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PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


BT   THE    HON. 


CHARLES    AUGUSTUS    MURRAY 


AUTHOR    OP 


'TRAVELS    IN    NORTH    AMERICA." 


Ferdinand.  Most  sure  the  goddess 

On  whom  these  airs  attend — 

My  prime  request 
Which  I  do  last  pronounce  is,  O  you  wonder, 
If  you  be  maid  or  no  1 

Miranda.  No  wonder,  sir, 

But  certainly  a  maid. 

Ferdinand.  My  language.  Heavens  ; 

Tempest,  act  1 


?^  E  W    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

82    CLIFF    STREET. 

1849. 


PREFACE. 


•^  I  HATE  a  Preface  !"  Such  will  probably 
be  the  reader's  exclamation  on  opening  this 
volume.  I  will,  however,  pursue  the  sub- 
ject a  little  farther  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue. 

Author.  "  I  entirely  agree  in  your  dislike 
of  a  Preface  ;  for  a  good  book  needs  none, 
imd  a  dull  book  cannot  be  mended  by  it." 

Reader.  "  If,  then,  you  coincide  in  my 
opinion,  why  write  a  Preface]  Judging 
from  appearances,  your  book  is  long  enough 
without  one !" 

A.  "  Do  not  be  too  severe  ;  it  is  precisely 
because  the  road  which  we  propose  to 
travel  together  is  of  considerable  extent, 
that  I  wish  to  warn  you  at  the  outset  of 
the  nature  of  the  scenery,  and  the  enter- 
tainment you  are  likely  to  meet  with,  in 
order  that  you  may,  if  these  afford  you 
no  attraction,  turn  aside  and  seek  better 
amusement  and  occupation  elsewhere." 

R  "  That  seems  plausible  enough  ;  yet, 
how  can  I  be  assured  that  tne  rogult  wjli 
fulfil  your  promise  ?  I  cncc  travellevl  ,''in 
a  stage-coach,  wherein  was  suspended,  for 
the  benefit  of  passengers,  a  coloured  print 
of  the  watering-place  which  was  our  des- 
tination ;  it  represented  a  magnificent  hotel, 
with  extensive  gardens  and  shrubberies, 
through  the  shady  walks  of  which,  gayly 
attired  parties  were  promenading  on  horse- 
back and  on  foot.  When  we  arrived,  I 
found  myself  at  a  large,  square,  unsightly 
inn  by  the  sea-side,  where  neither  flow-^er, 
shrub,  nor  tree  was  to  be  seen ;  and  on  in- 
quiry, I  was  informed  that  the  print  rep- 
resented the  hotel  as  the  proprietor  in- 
tended it  to  he  I  Suppose  I  were  to  meet 
with  a  similar  disappointment  in  my  jour- 
ney with  you  V 

A.  "  I  can  at  least  offer  you  this  comfort ; 
that  whereas  you  could  not  have  got  out 
of  the  stage  half  way  on  the  road  without 


much  inconvenience,  you  can  easily  lay 
down  the  book  whenever  you  find  it  be- 
coming tedious;  if  you  seek  for  amuse- 
ment only,  you  probably  will  be  disap- 
pointed, because  one  of  my  chief  aims  has 
been  to  afford  you  correct  information  re- 
specting the  habits,  condition,  and  charac- 
ter of  the  North  American  Indians  and 
those  bordering  on  their  territory.  I  have 
introduced,  also,  several  incidents  founded 
on  actual  occurrences  ;  and  some  of  them, 
as  well  as  of  the  characters,  are  sketched 
from  personal  observation." 

R.  "  Indeed !  you  are  then  the  individual 
who  resided  w^ith  the  Pawnees,  and  pub- 
lished, a  few  years  since,  your  Travels  in 
North  America.  I  suppose  we  may  ex- 
pect iiT  this  volume  a  sort  of  pot-poum, 
composed  of  all  the  notes,  anecdotes,  and 
pbse;/vations  which  you  could  not  conve- 
niently squeeze  into  your  former  book  V 
■  '.A.  '{looking,  rather  foolish).  ."Although 
;th;3  terms' -ii?  \Chich  you  have  worded  your 
conjecture  are  not  the  most  flattenng,  I 
own  that  it  is  not  altogether  without  found- 
ation ;  nevertheless,  gentle  reader — " 

R.  "  Spare  your  epithets  of  endearment ; 
or,  at  least,  reserve  them  until  I  have  sat- 
isfied myself  that  I  can  reply  in  a  similar 
strain." 

A.  "  Nay,  it  is  too  churlish  to  censure  a 
harmless  courtesy  that  has  been  adopted 
even  by  the  greatest  dramatists  and  novel- 
ists from  the  time  of  Shakspeare  to  the 
present  day." 

R.  "  It  may  be  so ;  permit  me,  however, 
to  request,  in  the  words  of  one  of  those 
dramatists  to  whom  you  refer,  that  you 
will  be  so  obliging  as  to 

'  Forbear  the  prologue, 
And  I«t  me  know  the  lulntauce  of  thy  tale  !' " 

Tkt  OrpXaik 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

to  which  tlie  reader  will  find  a  sketch  of  a  TilUge  in  t2ie 
West,  and  will  bo  introduced  to  some  of  the  Iranaatis 
persons. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  country  in  the  world 
more  favoured,  in  respect  to  natural  advanta- 
ges, than  the  State  of  Ohio  in  North  America : 
the  soil  is  of  inexhaustible  fertility  ;  the  climate 
temperate ;  the  rivers,  flowing  into  Lake  Erie 
to  the  north,  and  through  Ine  Ohio  into  the 
Mississippi  to  the  south- we3t,  ar3  navigable  for 
many  hundreds  of  miles,  the  forests  abound 
with  the  finest  timber,  and  even  the  bowels  of 
the  earth  pay,  in  various  Kinds  of  mineral,  abun- 
dant contribution  to  the  general  wealth :  the 
southern  frontier  of  the  State  is  bounded  by  the 
noble  river  from  which  she  derives  her  name, 
and  which  obtained  from  the  early  French  tra- 
ders and  missionaries  the  well-deserved  appel- 
lation of  "  La  Belle  Riviere." 

Towns  and  cities  are  now  multiplying  upon 
its  banks  ;  the  axe  has  laid  low  vast  tracts  of 
its  forests ;  the  plough  has  passed  over  many 
thousand  acres  of  the  prairies  which  it  fertil- 
ized ;  and  crowds  of  steamboats,  laden  with 
goodS;  manufactures,  and  passengers  from  eve- 
ry part  of  the  world,  urge  their  busy  way 
through  its  waters. 

Far  different  was  the  appearance  and  condi- 
tion of  that  region  at  the  period  when  the  events 
detailed  in  the  following  narrative  occurred. 
The  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that,  at  the  close 
of  the  last  century,  the  vast  tracts  of  forest  and 
prairie  now  forming  the  States  of  Ohio,  Indiana, 
and  Illinois,  were  all  included  in  what  was  then 
called  the  North-west  Territory  :  it  was  still  in- 
habited by  numerous  bands  of  Indian  tribes,  of 
which  the  most  powerful  were  the  Lenape  or 
Delawares,  the  Shawanons,  the  Miamies,  and 
the  Wyandots  or  Hurons. 

Here  and  there,  at  favourable  positions  on 
the  navigable  rivers,  were  trading  posts,  defend- 
ed by  small  forts,  to  which  the  Indians  brought 
their  skins  of  bear,  deer,  bison,  and  beaver  ; 
receiving  in  exchange,  powder,  rifles,  paint, 
hatchets,  knives,  blankets,  and  other  articled, 
which,  although  unknown  to  their  forefathers, 
had  become  to  them,  through  their  intercourse 
with  the  whiles,  numbered  among  the  necessa- 
ries of  life.  But  the  above-mentioned  animals, 
especially  the  last  two,  were  already  scarce  in 
this  region  ;  and  the  more  enterprising  of  the 
hunters,  Indian  as  well  as  white  men,  made 
annual  excursions  to  the  wild  and  boundless 
hunting-ground,  westward  of  the  Mississippi. 

At  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
villages  and  settlements  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  Ohio,  being  scarce  and  far  apart,  were  built, 
rather  for  the  purpose  of  trading  with  the  In- 
dians than  for  agriculture  or  civilized  industry ; 


an''  their  inhabitants  were  as  bold  and  haruy, 
sometimes  as  wild  and  lawless,  as  the  red  men, 
with  whom  they  were  beginning  to  dispute  tha 
soil. 

Numerous  quarrels  arose  between  these  west- 
ern settlers  and  their  Indian  neighbours ;  blood 
was  frequently  shed,  and  fierce  retaliation  en- 
sued, which  ended  in  open  hostility.  The  half- 
disciplined  militia,  aided  sometimes  by  regular 
troops,  invaded  and  burnt  the  Indian  villages ; 
while  the  red  men,  seldom  able  to  cope  with 
their  enemy  in  the  open  field,  cut  ofl'  detached 
parties,  massacred  unprotected  families,  and  so 
swift  and  indiscriminate  was  their  revenge,  that 
settlements,  at  some  distance  from  the  scene 
of  war,  were  often  aroused  at  midnight  by  the 
unexpected  alarm  of  the  war-whoop  and  the 
firebrand.  There  were  occasions,  however, 
when  the  Indians  boldly  attacked  and  defeated 
the  troops  sent  against  them ;  but  General 
Wayne,  having  taken  the  command  of  the  west- 
ern forces  (about  four  years  before  the  com- 
mencement of  our  tale),  routed  them  at  the  bat- 
tle of  the  Miamies  with  great  slaughter  ;  after 
which  many  of  them  went  off  to  the  Missam 
plains,  and  those  who  remained,  no  more  ven- 
tured to  appear  in  the  field  against  the  United 
States. 

One  of  the  earliest  trading  posts  established 
in  that  region  was  Marietta,  a  pretty  village 
situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum  river, 
where  it  falls  into  the  Ohio.  Even  so  far  back 
as  the  year  1799  it  boasted  a  church,  several 
taverns,  a  strong  block-house,  serving  as  a  pro- 
tection against  an  attack  from  the  Indians  • 
stores  for  the  sale  of  grocery ;  and,  in  short, 
such  a  collection  of  buildings  as  has,  in  more 
than  one  instance  in  the  western  states  of 
America,  grown  into  a  city  with  unexampled 
rapidity. 

This  busy  and  flourishing  village  had  taken 
the  lead,  of  all  others  within  a  hundred  miles, 
in  the  construction  of  vessels  for  the  navigation 
of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi ;  nay,  some  of  the 
more  enterprising  merchants  there  settled,  had 
actually  built,  launched,  and  freighted  brigs  and 
schooners  of  sufficient  burthen  to  brave  the  seas 
in  the  Mexican  gulf;  and  had  opened,  in  their 
little  inland  port,  a  direct  trade  with  the  West 
Indian  islands,  to  which  they  exported  flour, 
pork,  maize,  and  other  articles,  their  vessels 
returning  laden  with  fruit,  coffee,  sugar,  and 
rum. 

The  largest  store  in  the  village,  situated  in 
the  centre  of  a  row  of  houses  fronting  the  river, 
was  built  of  brick,  and  divided  into  several 
compartments,  wherein  were  to  he  found  all 
the  necessaries  of  life,— all  such  at  least  as 
were  called  for  by  the  inhabitants  of  Marietta 
and  its  neighbourhood  ;  one  of  these  compart- 
ments was  crowded  with  skins  and  furs  from 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


the  NoHK>vest,  i)lid;\Vith  dlAi^hes,  cottons,  and 
woollfn  stuffs,  from  England  ;  the  second  with 
'•'earthcnv/a're,  ,'ou.tle'rj',  mirrors^  iifips,  stoves, 
•'  grates,-' d:,c.;'  v/hile'in  the  tliirG',\vhi/.h  was  ccr- 
ta'irily  the  most  freqiiehted,'  were  sold  flour,  tea, 
sugar,  rum,  whiskey,  gunpowder,  spices,  cured 
I)ork,  &c.  ;  and  in  a  deep  corner  or  recess  of  the 
•atter  was  a  trap-door,  not  very  often  opened, 
but  which  led  to  a  cellar,  wherein  was  stored  a 
reasonable  quantity  of  Madeira  and  claret,  the 
tpiality  of  which  would  not  have  disgraced  the 
best  hotel  in  Philadelphia. 

Over  this  multifarious  property  on  sale,  pre- 
sided David  Muir,  a  bony,  long-armed  man  of 
about  forty-five  years  of  age,  whose  red,  bristly 
hair,  prominent  cheek  bones,  and  sharp,  sunken 
gray  eyes,  would,  without  the  confirming  evi- 
dence of  his  broad  Scottish  accent,  have  indi- 
cated to  an  experienced  observer  the  country 
to  which  he  owed  his  birth.  In  the  duties  of 
his  employment,  David  was  well  seconded  by 
his  helpmate, — a  tall,  powerful  woman,  whose 
features,  though  strong  and  masculine,  retained 
the  marks  of  early  beauty,  and  whose  voice, 
when  raised  in  wrath,  reached  the  ears  of  every 
individual,  even  in  the  farthest  compartment  of 
the  extensive  store  above  described. 

David  was  a  shrewd,  enterprising  fellow,  trust- 
worthy in  matters  of  business,  and  peaceable 
enough  in  temper  ;  though  in  more  than  one  af- 
fray, which  had  arisen  in  consequence  of  some 
of  his  customers,  whitemen  and  Indians,  having 
taken  on  the  spot  too  much  of  his  "  fire-water," 
he  had  shown  that  he  was  not  to  be  affronted 
with  impunity  ;  nevertheless  in  the  presence  of 
Mrs.  Christie  (so  was  his  spouse  called)  he  was 
gentle  and  subdued,  never  attempting  to  rebel 
against  an  authority  which  an  experience  of 
twenty  years  had  proved  to  be  irresistible  ;  one 
only  child,  aged  now  about  eighteen,  was  the 
fruit  of  their  marriage  ;  and  Jessie  Muir  was 
certainly  more  pleasing  in  her  manners  and  in 
her  appearance  than  might  have  been  expected 
from  her  parentage  ;  she  assisted  her  mother  in 
cooking,  baking,  and  other  domestic  duties,  and, 
when  not  thus  engaged,  read  or  worked  in  a 
corner  of  the  cotton  and  silk  compartment  over 
which  she  presided  ;  two  lads,  engaged  at  a 
salary  of  four  dollars  a  week,  to  assist  in  the 
sale,  care,  and  package  of  the  goods,  completed 
David's  establishment,  vi'hich  was  perhaps  the 
largest  and  the  best  provided  that  could  be  found 
westward  of  the  Alleghany  mountains. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  all 
this  property  was  his  own  :  it  belonged  for  the 
most  part  to  Colonel  Brandon,  a  gentleman  who 
resided  on  his  farm,  seven  or  eight  miles  from 
the  village,  and  who  entrusted  David  Muir  with 
the  entire  charge  of  the  stores  in  Marietta  ;  the 
accounts  of  the  business  were  regularly  audited 
by  the  colonel  once  every  year,  and  a  fair  share 
of  the  profits  as  regularly  made  over  to  David, 
whose  accuracy  and  integrity  had  given  much 
satisfaction  to  his  principal. 

Three  of  the  largest  trading  vessels  from  the 
port  of  Marietta  were  owned  and  freighted  by 
Colonel  Brandon  ;  the  command  and  manage- 
ment of  them  being  entrusted  by  him  to  Edward 
Ethelston,  a  young  man  who,  being  now  in  his 
twenty-eighth  year,  discharged  the  duty  of  cap- 
tain and  supercargo  with  ihe  ^i  eatest  steadiness, 
ability,  and  success. 


As  young  Ethelston  and  family  will  occupy  d 
considerable  place  in  our  narrative,  it  may  be 
as  well  to*detail  briefly  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  his  enjoying  so  large  a  share  of  the  colo- 
nel's affection  and  confidence. 

About  eleven  years  before  the  date  mentioned 
as  being  that  of  the  commencement  of  our  tale, 
Colonel  Brandon,  having  sold  his  property  in 
Virginia,  had  moved  to  the  Northwest  Territo- 
ry, with  his  wife  and  his  two  children,  Reginald 
and  Lucy  ;  he  had  persuaded,  at  the  same  t  jrie, 
a  Virginian  friend,  Digby  Ethelston,  who,  like 
himself,  was  descended  from  an  ancient  royalist 
family  in  the  mother  country,  to  accompany  him 
in  this  migration  ;  the  feelings,  associations, 
and  prejudices  of  both  the  friends  had  been 
frequently  wounded  during  the  war  which  ter- 
minated in  the  independence  of  the  United 
States  ;  for  not  only  were  both  attached  by  those 
feelings  and  associations  to  the  old  country,  but 
they  had  also  near  connexions  resident  there, 
with  whom  they  kept  up  a  friendly  intercourse. 

It  was  not,  therefore,  difficult  for  Colonel 
Brandon  to  persuade  his  friend  to  join  him  in 
his  proposed  emigration  ;  the  latter  who  was  a 
widower,  and  who,  like  the  Colonel,  had  only 
two  children,  was  fortunate  in  having  under  his 
roof  a  sister,  who  being  now  past  the  prime  of 
life,  devoted  herself  entirely  to  the  charge  of  her 
brother's  household.  Aunt  Mary  (for  she  was 
known  by  no  other  name)  expressed  neither 
aversion  nor  alarm  at  the  prospect  of  settling 
permanently  in  so  remote  a  region  ;  and  the  two 
families  moved  accordingly,  with  goods  and 
chattels,  to  the  banks  of  the  Ohio. 

The  colonel  and  his  friend  were  both  possess- 
ed of  considerable  property,  a  portion  of  which 
they  invested  in  the  fur  companies,  which  at  that 
time  carried  on  extensive  traffic  in  the  north- 
west territory ;  they  also  acquired  from  the 
United  States  government  large  tracts  of  land 
at  no  great  distance  from  Marietta,  upon  which 
each  selected  an  agreeable  site  for  his  farm  or 
country- residence. 

Their  houses  were  not  far  apart,  and  though 
rudely  built  at  first,  they  gradually  assumed  a 
more  comfortable  appearance  ;  wings  were  ad- 
ded, stables  enlarged,  the  gardens  and  peach- 
orchards  were  well  fenced,  and  the  adjoining 
farm-offices  amply  stocked  with  horses  and  cat- 
tle. 

For  two  years  all  went  on  pro.sperously  ;  the 
boys,  Edward  Ethelston  and  Reginald  Brandon, 
were  as  fond  of  each  other  as  their  fathers 
could  desire  ;  the  former  being  three  years  the 
senior,  and  possessed  of  excellent  qualities  of 
head  and  heart,  controlled  the  ardent  and  some- 
what romantic  temper  of  Reginald  ;  both  were 
at  school  near  Philadelphia  ;  when  on  a  beauti- 
ful day  in  June,  Mr.  Ethelston  and  Aunt  Mary 
walked  over  to  pay  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Brandon, 
leaving  little  Evelyn  (who  was  then  about  eight 
years  old)  with  her  nurse  at  home;  they  re- 
mained at  ColoneJ  Brandon's  to  dine,  and  were 
on  the  point  of  returning  in  the  afternoon,  when 
a  farm-servant  of  Mr.  Ethelston's  rushed  into 
the  room  where  the  two  gentlemen  were  sittii.g 
alone  ;  lie  was  pale,  breathless,  and  so  agitated 
that  he  could  not  utter  a  syllable  :  "  For  hea- 
ven's sake,  speak  !  What  has  happened  1"  ex- 
claimed Colonel  Brandon. 

A  dreadful  pause  ensued ;  at  length,  he  ra 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


ther  gasped  than  said,  "The  Indians!"  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out 
some  horrid  spectacle. 

Poor  Ethelston's  tongue  clove  to  his  mouth  ; 
the  prescient  agony  of  a  father  overcame  him. 

"  What  of  the  Indians,  manl"  said  Colonel 
Brandlon  ;  angrily,  "  'sblood,  we  have  seen  In- 
dians enough  hereabout  before  now ; — what  the 
devil  have  they  been  at  I" 

A  groan  and  a  shudder  was  the  only  reply. 

The  colonel  now  lost  all  patience,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  By  heavens,  the  sight  of  a  redskin 
seems  to  have  frightened  the  fellow  out  of  his 
senses  !  I  did  not  know,  Ethelston,  that  you 
trusted  your  farm- stock  to  such  a  chicken-heart 
as  this !" 

Incensed  by  this  taunt  the  rough  lad  replied, 
"  Colonel !  fur  all  as  you  be  so  bold,  and  have 
seen,  as  they  say,  a  bloody  field  or  two,  you'd  a' 
been  skeared  if  you'd  a'  seen  this  job  ;  but  as 
for  my  being  afeared  of  Ingians  in  an  up  and 
down  fight,  or  in  a  tree-skriramage — I  don't  care 
who  says  it — faint  a  fact." 

"  I  believe  it,  my  good  fellow,"  said  the  Colo- 
nel ;  "  but  keep  us  no  longer  in  suspense  — say, 
what  has  happened!" 

"  Why  you  see.  Colonel,  about  an  hour  ago, 
Jem  and  Eliab  was  at  work  in  the  'baccy-field 
behind  the  house,  and  nurse  was  out  in  the  big 
meadow  a  walkin  with  Miss  Evelyn  when  I 
heard  a  cry  as  if  all  the  devils  had  broke  loose  ; 
in  a  moment,  six  or  eight  painted  Ingians  with 
rifles  and  tomahawks  dashed  out  of  the  laurel 
thicket,  and  murdered  poor  Jem  and  Eliab  be- 
fore they  could  get  at  their  rifles  which  stood 
by  the  worm  fence  ;*  two  of  them  then  went  af- 
ter the  nurse  and  child  in  the  meadow,  while 
the  rest  broke  into  the  house,  which  they  ran- 
sacked and  set  'o  fire  !" 

"  But  my  child  V  dried  the  agonized  father. 

"  I  fear  it's  gone  too,"  said  the  messenger  of 
this  dreadful  news.  "  I  saw  one  devil  kill  and 
scalp  the  nurse,  and  t'other," — here  he  paused, 
awe-struck  by  the  speechless  agony  of  poor 
Ethelston,  who  stood  with  clasped  hands  and 
bloodless  lips,  unable  to  ask  for  the  few  more 
words  which  were  to  complete  his  despair. 

"  Speak  on,  man,  let  us  know  the  worst ;" 
said  the  Colonel,  at  the  same  time  supporting 
the  trembling  form  of  his  unhappy  friend. 

"  I  seed  the  tomahawk  raised  over  the  sweet 
child,  and  I  tried  to  rush  out  o'  my  hidin'  place 
to  save  it,  when  the  flames  and  the  smoke 
broke  out,  and  I  tumbled  into  the  big  ditch  be- 
hw  the  garden,  over  head  in  water  ;  by  the 
Hme  I  got  out  and  reached  the  place,  the  red 
aevils  were  all  gone,  and  the  house,  and  straw, 
««nd  barns  all  in  a  blaze  !" 

Poor  Ethelston  had  only  heard  the  first  few 
»vords — they  were  enough — his  head  sunk  upon 
isis  breast,  his  whole  frame  shuddered  convul- 
'vely ;  and  a  rapid  succession  of  inarticulate 
T)unds  came  from  his  lips,  among  which  no- 
liing  could  be  distinguished  beyond  "  child," 

tomahawk,"  "  Evelyn." 

It  is  needless  to  relate  in  detail  all  that  fol- 
owed  this  painful  scene  ;  the  bodies  of  the  un- 
fortunate labourers  and  of  tJie  nurse  were  found  ; 

*  It  may  be  necessafy  to  inform  some  of  our  English 
readers,  that  a  worm  fence  is  a  coarse,  JBf^^g  railing,  com- 
aion  ia  the  acw  .'*tvlements  of  Americs  '  iters  iinbcr  is 
Dieatiful. 


all  had  been  scalped  ;  that  of  the  child  was  not 
found ;  and  though  Colonel  Brandon  himself 
led  a  band  of  the  most  experienced  hunters  in 
pursuit,  the  trail  of  the  savages  could  not  be 
followed ;  with  their  usual  wily  foresight  they 
had  struck  off  through  the  forest  in  different 
directions,  and  succeeded  in  baffling  all  attempts 
at  discovering  either  their  route  or  their  tribe  , 
messengers  were  sent  to  the  trading  posts  at 
Kaskaskia,  Vincennes,  and  even  to  Genevieve, 
and  St.  Louis,  and  all  returned  dispirited  by  a 
laborious  and  fruitless  search. 

Mr.  Ethelston  never  recovered  this  calami 
tous  blow  ;  several  fits  of  paralysis,  following 
each  other  in  rapid  succession,  carried  him  off 
within  a  few  months.  By  his  will  he  appointed 
a  liberal  annuity  to  Aunt  Mary,  and  left  the  re- 
mainder of  his  property  to  his  son  Edward,  but 
entirely  under  the  control  and  guardianship  of 
Colonel  Brandon. 

The  latter  had  prevailed  upon  Aunt  Mary  and 
her  young  nephew  to  become  inmates  of  his 
house  ;  where,  after  the  soothing  effect  of  time 
had  softened  the  bitterness  of  their  grief,  they 
fi)und  the  comforts,  the  occupations,  the  en- 
dearments, the  social  blessings  embodied  in  the 
word  "  home."  Edward  became  more  fondly 
attached  than  ever  to  his  younger  companion, 
Reginald  ;  and  Aunt  Mary,  besides  aiding  Mrs. 
Brandon  in  the  education  of  her  daughter,  found 
time  to  knit,  to  hem,  to  cook,  to  draw,  to  plant 
vegetables,  to  rear  flowers,  to  read,  to  give 
medicine  to  any  sick  in  the  -neighbourhood,  and 
to  comfort  all  who,  like  herself,  had  suffered 
under  the  chastising  hand  of  Providence. 

Such  were  the  circumstances  which  (elevea 
years  before  the  commencement  of  this  narra- 
tive) had  led  to  the  affectionate  and  paternal 
interest  which  the  Colonel  felt  for  the  son  of 
his  friend,  and  which  was  increased  by  the  high 
and  estimable  qualities  gradually  developed  in 
Edward's  character.  Before  proceeding  further 
in  our  tale,  it  is  necessary  to  give  the  reader 
some  insight  into  the  early  history  of  Colonel 
Brandon  himself,  and  into  those  occurences  in 
the  life  of  his  son  Reginald,  which  throw  light 
upon  the  events  hereafter  to  be  related. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Containing  an  account  of  the  marriage  of  Colonel  Bran 
don  and  its  consequences. 

George  Brandon  was  the  only  son  of  a 
younger  brother,  a  scion  of  an  ancient  and  dis- 
tinguished family  :  they  had  been,  for  the  most 
part,  staunch  Jacobites,  and  George's  father 
lost  the  greater  part  of  his  property  in  a  fruitless 
endeavour  to  support  the  ill-timed  and  ill-con- 
ducted expedition  of  Charles  Edward,  in  1745. 

After  this  he  retired  to  the  Continent  and 
died,  leaving  to  his  son  little  else  besides  his 
sword,  a  few  hundred  crowns,  and  an  untai 
nished  name.  The  young  man  returned  to 
England ;  and,  being  agreeable,  acco.mplished 
and  strikingly  handsome,  was  kindly  received 
by  some  of  his  relations  and  their  friends. 

During  one  of  the  visits  that  he  paid  at  the 
house  of  a  neighbour  in  the  country,  he  fell 
desperately  in  love,  with  Lucy  Shirley,  the 
daughter  of  the  richest  squire  in  the  country,  a 
determined  Whig,  and  one  wlo  hated  a  Jaco 


6 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


hite  worse  than  a  Frenchman.  "As  George 
Brandon's  passion  was  returned  with  equal  ar- 
do'ir,  and  the  object,  of  it  was  young  and  inex- 
perienced as  himself,  all  the  obstacles  opposed 
to  their  union  only  served  to  add  fuel  to  the 
(lame  ■  and,  after  repeated  but  vain  endeavours 
on  the  part  of  Lucy  Shirley  to  reconcile  her 
father,  or  her  only  brother,  to  tlie  match,  she 
elujied  with  her  young  lover :  and,  by  a  rapid 
escape  into  Scotland,  where  they  were  imme- 
diately married,  they  rendered  abortive  all  at- 
tempt at  pursuit. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  young  couple  be- 
gan to  feel  some  of  tho  painful  consequences  of 
th3ir  i-mprudence.  The  old  scjuire  was  not  to 
be  appeased ;  he  would  neither  see  his  daugh- 
ter, nor  would  he  open  one  of  the  many  letters 
which  she  wrote  to  entreat  his  forgiveness  : 
but,  although  incensed,  he  was  a  proud  man 
and  scrupulously  just  in  all  his  dealings  :  Lucy 
had  been  left  £10,000  by  her  grand-mother,  but 
it  was  not  due  to  her  until  she  attained  her 
twenty-first  year,  or  married  with  her  father's 
cn7isent.  The  squire  waved  both  these  condi- 
tions; he  knew  that  his  daughter  had  fallen 
from  a  brilliant  sphere  to  one  comparatively 
nnnible.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  wrath  he 
did  not  wish  her  to  starve,  and  accordingly  in- 
structed his  lawyer  to  write  to  Mrs.  Brandon, 
and  to  inform  her  that  he  had  orders  to  pay  her 
£500  a-year,  until  she  thought  fit  to  demand  the 
payment  of  the  principal. 

George  and  his  wife  returned,  after  a  brief 
absence,  to  England,  and  made  frequent  efforts 
to  overcome  by  entreaty  and  submission  the 
old  squire's  obduracy;  but  it  was  all  in  vain  ; 
neither  were  they  more  successful  in  propitia- 
ting the  young  squire,  an  eccentric  youth,  who 
lived  among  dogs  and  horses,  and  who  had  im- 
bibed from  his  father  a  hereditary  taste  for  old 
port,  and  an  antipathy  to  Jacobites.  His  reply 
to  a  letter  which  George  wrote,  entreating  his 
good  offices  in  effecting  a  reconciliation  between 
Lucy  and  her  father,  will  serve  better  than  an 
elaborate  description  to  illustrate  his  character  ; 
it  ran  as  follows  : — 

Sir, 
When  my  sister  married  a  Jacobite,  against 
father's  consent,  she  carried  her  eggs  to  a  fool's 
market,  and  she  nmst  make  the  best  of  her  own 
bargain.  Father  isn't  such  a  flat  as  to  be  gul- 
led with  your  fine  words  now ;  and  tho'  they 
say  I'm  not  over  forw'rd  in  my  sohoolin',  you 
must  put  some  better  bait  on  your  trap  before 
vou  catch 

Marmaduke  Shirley,  Jun. 

It  may  well  be  imagined,  that  after  the  re- 
ceipt of  this  epistle  George  Brandon  did  not 
seek  to  renew  his  intercourse  with  Lucy's  bro- 
ther ;  but  as  she  had  now  presented  him  with 
a  little  boy,  he  began  to  meditate  seriously  on 
the  means  which  he  should  adopt  to  better  his 
fortunes. 

One  of  his  most  intimate  and  esteemed 
Inends,  Digby  Ethelston,  being  like  himself, 
a  portionless  member  of  an  ancient  family,  had 
gone  out  early  in  life  to  America,  and  had,  by 
dint  of  persevering  industry,  gained  a  respect- 
able competence ;  while  in  the  southern  colo- 
nies he  had  married  the  daughter  of  an  old 
French  plante-,  who  had  left  the  marquisate  to 


which  he  was  entitled  in  his  own  country,  ii 
order  to  live  in  peace  and  quiet  among  the 
sugar  canes  and  cotton  fields  of  Louisiana ; 
Ethelston  had  received  with  his  wife  a  consid- 
erable accession  of  fortune,  and  they  were  on 
the  eve  of  returning  across  the  Atlantic,  her 
husband  having  settled  all  the  affairs  which  had 
brought  him  to  England. 

His  representations  of  the  New  World  made 
a  strong  impression  on  the  sanguine  mind  of 
George  Brandon,  and  he  proposed  to  his  wife 
to  emigrate  with  their  little  one  to  America ; 
poor  Lucy,  cut  off  from  her  own  family  and  de- 
voted to  her  husband,  made  no  difficulty  what- 
ever, and  it  was  soon  settled  that  they  should 
accompany  the  Ethelstons. 

George  now  called  upon  Mr.  Shirley's  solici- 
tor, a  dry,  matter-of-fact,  parchment  man,  to  in- 
form him  of  their  intention,  and  of  their  wish 
that  the  principal  of  Lucy's  fortune  might  be 
paid  up.  The  lawyer  took  down  a  dusty  box 
of  black  tin,  whereon  was  engraved  "  Marma- 
duke Shirley,  Esq.,  Shirley  Hall,  No.  7,"  and 
after  carefully  perusing  a  paper  of  instructions, 
he  said,  "  Mrs.  Brandon's  legacy  shall  be  paid 
up,  sir,  on  the  1st  of  July  to  any  party  whom 
she  may  empower  to  receive  it  on  her  behalf, 
and  to  give  a  legal  discharge  for  the  same." 

"  And  pray,  sir,"  said  George,  hesitating,  "  as 
we  are  going  across  the  Atlantic,  perhaps  never 
to  return,  do  you  not  think  Mr.  Shirley  would 
see  his  daughter  once  before  she  sails,  to  give 
her  his  blessing? 

Again  the  man  of  parchment  turned  his  sharp 
nose  towards  the  paper,  and  having  scanned  its 
contents,  he  said,  "  I  find  nothing,  sir,  in  these 
instructions  on  that  point ;  Good  morning,  Mr. 
Brandon — James,  shew  in  Sir  John  Waltham." 

George  walked  home  dispirited,  and  the  punc- 
tual solicitor  failed  not  to  inform  the  squire  im- 
mediately of  the  young  couple's  intended  emi- 
gration and  the  demand  for  the  paying  up  of  the 
sum  due  to  Lucy.  In  spite  of  his  long  cherish- 
ed prejudices  against  George  Brandon's  Jaco- 
bite family,  and  his  anger  at  the  elopement,  he 
was  somewhat  softened  by  time,  by  what  he 
heard  of  the  blameless  life  led  by  the  young 
man,  and  by  the  respectful  conduct  that  the  lat- 
ter had  evinced  towards  his  wife's  family ;  for 
it  had  happened  on  one  occasion  that  some  of 
his  young  companions  had  thought  fit  to  speak 
of  the  obstinacy  and  stinginess  of  the  old  squire  ; 
this  language  George  had  instantly  and  indig- 
nantly checked,  saying,  "  My  conduct  in  marry- 
ing his  daughter  aga'nst  his  consent,  was  un- 
justifiable ;  though  he  has  not  forgiven  her,  he 
has  behaved  justly  ana  honourably  ;  any  word 
spoken  disrespectfully  cf  my  wife's  father,  I 
shall  consider  a  personal  insult  to  myself" 

This  had  accidentally  reached  the  ears  of  tho 
old  squire,  and,  though  still  'oo  proud  and  too 
obstinate  to  agree  to  any  recorciliation,  he  said 
to  tlie  solicitor:  "  Perkins,  I  wiM  not  be  recon- 
ciled to  these  scapegraces,  I  wih  have  no  inter- 
course with  them,  but  I  will  see  Lu-^y  before  she 
goes  ;  she  must  not  see  me  ; — arr-^nge  it  as 
you  please;  desire  her  to  come  to  yo'^r  house 
to  sign  the  discharge  for  the  £10,000,  in  per- 
son ;  you  can  put  me  m  a  cupboard,  in  the  next 
room,  where  you  will,  a  glass  door  will  do  ;— 
you  understand  1" 

"  Yes,  sir.     When  V 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


'Oh.  the  sooner  the  better;  whenever  the 
papers  are  ready." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  sir."  And  thus  the  inter- 
view closed. 

Meantime  George  made  one  final  effort  in  a 
letter  which  he  addressed  to  the  Squire,  couch- 
ed in  terms  at  once  manly  and  respectful ; 
owning  the  errors  that  he  had  committed,  but 
hoping  that  forgiveness  might  precede  this  long, 
this  last  separation. 

This  letter  was  returned  to  him  unopened, 
and  in  order  to  conceal  from  Lucy  the  grief  and 
mortification  of  his  high  and  wounded  spirit,  he 
was  obliged  to  absent  himself  from  home  for 
many  hours,  and  when  he  did  return,  it  was 
witli  a  clouded  brow. 

Certainly  the  fate  of  this  young  couple,  though 
not  altogether  prosperous,  was  in  one  particular 
a  remarkable  exception  to  the  usual  results  of 
a  runaway  match  ;  they  were  affectionately 
and  entirely  devoted  to  each  other  ;  and  Lucy, 
though  she  had  been  once,  and  only  once,  a  dis- 
obedient daughter,  was  the  most  loving  and 
obedient  of  wives. 

The  day  fixed  for  her  signature  arrived.  Mr. 
Perkins  had  made  all  his  arrangements  agree- 
ably to  his  wealthy  client's  instructions ;  and 
when,  accompanied  by  her  husband,  she  enter- 
ed the  solicitor's  study,  she  was  little  conscious 
that  her  father  was  separated  from  her  only  by 
a  frail  door,  which  being  left  ajar,  he  could  see 
her,  and  hear  every  word  that  she  spoke. 

Mr.  Perkins,  placing  the  draft  of  the  dis- 
charge into  George  Brandon's  hand,  together 
with  the  instrument  whereby  his  wife  was  put 
in  possession  of  the  £10,000,  said  to  him, 
"  Would  it  not  be  better,  sir,  to  send  for  your 
soHcitor  to  inspect  these  papers  on  behalf  of 
yourself  and  Mrs.  Brandon,  before  she  signs  the 
discharge  1" 

"  Allow  me  to  inquire,  sir,"  replied  George, 
"whether  Mr.  Shirley  has  perused  these  pa- 
pers, and  has  placed  them  here  for  his  daugh- 
ter's signature]" 

"  Assuredly,  he  has,  sir,"  said  the  lawyer, 
"  and  I  have  too,  on  his  behalf;  you  do  not  im- 
agine, sir,  that  my  client  would  pay  the  capital 
sum  without  being  certain  that  the  discharge 
was  regular  and  sufficient !" 

"  Then  I  am  satisfied,  sir,"  said  George,  with 
something  of  disdain  expressed  on  his  fine 
countenance.  "Mr.  Shirley  is  a  man  of  hon- 
our, and  a  father ;  whatever  he  has  sent  for  his 
daughter's  signature  will  secure  her  interests  as 
effectually  as  if  a  dozen  solicitors  had  inspect- 
ed it." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  a  sort  of 
indistinct  hem  proceeded  from  the  ensconced 
Squire,  to  cover  which  Mr.  Perkins  said,  "  But, 
sir,  it  is  not  usual  to  sign  papers  of  this  con- 
quence  without  examining  them." 

"  Lucy,  my  dear,"  said  George,  turning  with 
a  smile  of  affectionate  confidence  to  his  wife ; 
"  to  oblige  Mr.  Perkins,  I  will  read  through 
these  two  papers  attentively ;  sit  down  for  a 
minute,  as  they  are  somewhat  long  ;"  so  say- 
ing, he  applied  himself  at  once  to  his  task. 

Meantime,  Lucy,  painfully  agitated  and  ex- 
cited, made  several  attempts  to  address  Mr. 
Perkins ;  but  her  voice  failed  her,  as  soon  as 
she  turned  her  eyes  upon  that  gentleman's  rigid 
countenance  ;  at  length  however,  by  a  desper- 


ate effort,  she  succeeded  in  asking,  tremulous- 
ly, "  Mr.  Perkins,  have  you  seen  my  father 
lately?' 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  lawyer,  nibbing  hi« 
pen. 

"  Oh  !  tell  me  how  he  is  ! — Has  the  gout  left 
himl — Can  he  ride  to  the  farm  as  he  used  V 

"He  is  well,  madam,  very  well,  I  believe." 

"Shall  yoi}  see  him  soon  again,  sirl" 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  must  show  him  these  papers 
when  signed." 

"  Oh  !  then,  tell  him,  that  his  daughter,  who 
never  disobeyed  him  but  once,  has  wept  bitter- 
ly for  her  fault ;  that  she  will  probably  never 
see  him  again,  in  this  world  ;  that  she  blesses 
him  in  her  daily  prayers.  Oh !  tell  him,  I 
charge  you  as  you  are  a  man,  tell  him,  that  I 
could  cross  the  ocean  happy  ;  that  I  could  bear 
years  of  sickness,  of  privation,  happy ;  that  I 
could  die  happy,  if  I  had  but  my  dear,  dear 
father's  blessing."  As  she  said  this,  the  young 
wife  had  unconsciously  fallen  upon  one  knee 
before  the  man  of  law,  and  her  tearful  eyes 
were  bent  upon  his  countenance  in  earnest  sup- 
plication. 

Again  an  indistinct  noise,  as  of  a  suppressed 
groan  or  sob,  was  heard  from  behind  the  door, 
and  the  solicitor  wiping  his  spectacles  and  turn- 
ing away  his  face  to  conceal  an  emotion  oi 
which  he  felt  rather  ashamed,  said  :  "  I  will 
tell  him  all  you  desire,  madam ;  and  if  I  re- 
ceive his  instructions  to  make  any  communica- 
tion in  reply,  I  will  make  it  faithfully,  ard  with- 
out loss  of  time." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you  a  thousand  times,' 
said  Lucy ;  and  resuming  her  seat,  she  endea- 
voured to  recover  her  composure. 

George  had  by  this  time  run  his  eye  over  the 
papers,  and  although  he  had  overheard  his  wife's 
appeal  to  the  solicitor,  he  would  not  interrupt 
her,  nor  throw  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  an  , 
object  which  he  knew  she  had  so  much  at  heart. 
"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  sir,"  said  he  ;  "  you 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  provide  the  witness- 
es, and  Mrs.  Brandon  will  affix  her  signature." 

Two  clerks  of  Mr.  Perkins'  were  according- 
ly summoned,  and  the  discharge  having  been 
signed  in  their  presence,  they  retired.  Mr.  Per- 
kins now  drew  another  paper  from  the  leaves 
of  a  book  on  his  table,  saying  :  "  Mr.  Brandon, 
the  discharge  being  now  signed  and  attested,  I 
have  further  instructions  from  Mr.  Shirley  to 
inform  you  that  although  he  cannot  alter  his 
determination  of  refusing  to  see  his  daughter, 
or  holding  any  intercourse  with  yourself,  he  is 
desirous  that  you  should  not  in  America  find 
yourself  in  straitened  circumstances  ;  and  has 
accordingly  authorised  me  to  place  in  your 
hands  this  draft  upon  his  banker  for  £5000." 

"  Mr.  Perkins,"  said  Georgt,  in  a  tone  of  min- 
gled sadness  and  pride  ;  "  in  tiie  payment  of  the 
£10,000,  my  wife's  fortune,  Mr.  Shirley,  though 
acting  honourably,  has  only  done  justice,  and 
has  dealt  as  he  would  have  dealt  with  strangers; 
had  he  thought  proper  to  listen  to  my  wife's,  «r 
to  my  own  repeated  entreaties  for  forgiveness 
and  reconciliation,  I  would  gratefully  have  re- 
ceived from  him,  as  from  a  father,  any  favour 
that  he  wished  to  confer  on  us ;  but,  sir,  as  he 
refuses  to  see  me  under  his  roof,  or  even  to  give 
his  affectionate  and  repentant  child  a  parting 
blessing,   I  would   rather  work   for  my  dailv 


8 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


bread  than  receive  at  his  hands  the  donation  of 
a  guinea." 

As  lie  said  this,  he  tore  the  draft  and  scatter- 
ed its  shreds  on  the  table  before  the  astonished 
lawyer.  Poor  Lucy  was  still  in  tears,  yet  one 
look  assured  her  husband  that  she  felt  with  him. 
He  added  in  a  gentler  tone,  "  Mr.  Perkins  ac- 
cept my  acknowledgments  for  your  courtesy  ;' 
and  offering  his  arm  to  Lucy,  turned  to  leave 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Containing  aorae  further  account  of  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Brandon,  and  of  the  Education  of  their  eon  Reginald. 

While  the  scene  described  in  the  last  chap- 
ter was  passing  in  the  lawyer's  study,  stormy 
and  severe  was  the  struggle  going  on  in  the 
breast  of  the  listening  father ;  more  than  once 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  rushing  into  the 
room  to  fold  his  child  in  his  arms ;  but  that  ob- 
stinate pride,  which  causes  in  life  so  many  bit- 
ter hours  of  regret,  prevented  him,  and  check- 
ed the  natural  impulse  of  affection  :  still,  as  she 
turned  with  her  husband  to  leave  the  room,  he 
unconsciously  opened  the  door,  on  the  lock  of 
which  his  hand  rested,  as  he  endeavoured  to 
get  one  last  look  at  a  face  which  he  had  so 
long  loved  and  caressed.  The  door  being  thus 
partially  opened,  a  very  diminutive  and  favour- 
ite spaniel,  that  accompanied  him  wherever  he 
went,  escaped  through  the  aperture,  and,  recog- 
nizing Lucy,  barked  and  jumped  upon  her  in  an 
ecstacy  of  delight. 

"  Heavens  !"  cried  she,  "  it  is — it  must  be 
Pan  '"  At  another  time  she  would  have  fond- 
ly caressed  it,  but  one  only  thought  now  occu- 
pied her ;  trembling  on  her  husband's  arm,  she 
whispered,  "  George,  papa  must  be  here."  At 
that  moment  her  eye  caught  the  partially-open- 
ed door,  which  the  agitated  Squire  still  held, 
and,  breaking  from  her  husband,  she  flew  as  if 
by  instinct  into  the  adjacent  room,  and  fell  at 
her  father's  feet. 

Poor  Mr.  Perkins  was  now  grievously  dis- 
concerted, and  calling  out,  "This  way,  madam, 
this  way  ;  that  is  not  the  right  door,"  was  about 
to  follow,  when  George  Brandon,  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  lawyer's  arm,  said  impressively, 

"  Stay,  sir ;  that  room  is  sacred !"  and  led 
him  back  to  his  chair.  His  quick  mind  had 
seized  in  a  moment  the  correctness  of  Lucy's 
conjecture,  and  his  good  feeling  taught  him 
that  no  third  person,  not  even  he,  should  in- 
trude upon  the  father  and  the  child. 

The  old  squire  could  not  make  a  long  resist- 
ance when  the  gush  of  his  once-loved  Lucy's 
tears  trickled  upon  his  hand,  and  while  her 
half-choked  voice  sobbed  for  his  pardon  and  his 
blessing ;  it  was  in  vain  that  he  summoned 
all  his  pride,  all  his  strength,  all  his  anger ; 
Nature  would  assert  her  rights  ;  and  in  another 
minute  his  child's  head  was  on  his  bosom,  and 
he  whispered  over  her,  "  I  forgive  you  Lucy  ; 
tuay  God  bless  you,  as  I  do  !" 

For  some  time  after  this  was  the  interview 
prolonged,  and  Lucy  seemed  to  be  pleading  for 
some  boon  which  she  could  not  obtain  ;  never- 
theless her  tears,  her  old  familiar  childish  ca- 
resses, had  regained  something  of  their  former 


dominion  over  the  choleric,  but  warm-hearted 
Squire  ;  and  in  a  voice  of  joy  that  thrilled  even 
through  the  quiet  man  of  law,  she  cried, 
"  George  !  George,  come  in  !"  he  leaped  from 
his  seat,  and  in  a  moment  was  at  the  feet  of  her 
father.  There  as  he  knelt  by  Lucy's  side,  the 
old  Squire  put  one  hand  upon  the  head  of  each, 
saying,  "  My  children,  ail  that  you  have  evei 
done  to  offend  me  is  forgotten  ;  continue  to  love 
and  to  cherish  each  other,  and  may  God  pros 
per  you  with  every  blessing!"  George  Bran- 
don's heart  was  full ;  he  could  not  speak,  but 
straining  his  wife  affectionately  to  his  bosom, 
and  kissing  her  father's  hand,  he  withdrew  into 
a  corner  of  the  room,  and  for  some  minutes  re- 
mained oppressed  by  emotions  too  strong  to  find 
relief  in  expressions. 

We  need  not  detail  at  length  the  consequen- 
ces of  this  happy  and  unexpected  reconciliation. 
The  check  was  re-written,  was  doubled,  and 
was  accepted.  George  still  persevered  in  his 
wish  to  accompany  his  friend  to  Virginia  ;  where 
Ethelston  assured  him  that,  with  his  .£20,000 
prudently  managed,  he  might  easily  acquire  a 
sufficient  fortune  for  himself  and  his  fairaly. 

How  mighty  is  the  power  of  circumstance:  and 
upon  what  small  pivots  does  Providence  some 
times  allow  the  wheels  of  human  fortune  to  be 
turned  !  Here,  in  the  instance  just  related,  the 
blessing  or  unappeaseo  wrath  of  a  father,  the 
joy  or  despair  of  a  daughter,  the  peace  or  dis- 
cord of  a  family,  all,  all  were  dependent  upon 
the  bark  and  caress  of  a  spaniel !  For  that  stern 
old  man  had  made  his  determination,  and  would 
have  adhered  to  it,  if  Lucy  had  not  thus  been 
made  aware  of  his  presence,  and  by  her  grief 
aiding  the  voice  of  Nature,  overthrown  all  the 
defences  of  his  pride. 

It  happened  that  the  young  Squire  was  a* 
this  time  in  Paris,  his  father  having  sent  him 
thither  to  see  the  world  and  learn  to  fence  ;  a 
letter  was,  however,  written  by  Lucy,  announ- 
cing to  him  the  happy  reconciliation,  and  en- 
treating him  to  participate  in  their  common  hap- 
piness. 

The  arrangements  for  the  voyage  were  soon 
completed ;  the  cabin  of  a  large  vessel  being 
engaged  to  convey  the  whole  party  to  Norfolk 
in  Virginia.  The  Old  Squire  offered  no  oppo- 
sition, considering  that  George  Brandon  was  too 
old  to  begin  a  profession  in  England,  and  that 
he  might  employ  his  time  and  abilities  advanta- 
geously in  the  New  World. 

We  may  pass  over  many  of  the  ensuing  years, 
the  events  of  which  have  little  influence  on  our 
narrative,  merely  informing  the  reader  that  the 
investment  of  Brandon's  money,  made  by  tlw 
advice  of  Ethelston,  was  prosperous  in  the  ex- 
treme. In  the  course  of  a  year  or  two,  Mrs. 
Brandon  presented  her  lord  with  a  little  girl, 
who  was  named  after  herself.  In  the  following 
year,  Mrs.  Ethelston  had  also  a  daughter :  the 
third  confinement  was  not  so  fortunate,  and 
she  died  in  childbed,  leaving  to  Ethelston,  Ed- 
ward, then  about  nine,  and  little  Evelyn  a 
twelvemonth  old. 

It  was  on  this  sad  occasion  that  he  persuaded 
his  sister  to  come  out  from  England  to  reside 
with  him,  and  take  care  of  his  motherless  chil- 
dren :  a  task  that  she  undertook  and  fulfilled 
with  the  love  and  devotion  of  the  most  affec- 
tionate mother. 


THE  PRA.IRIE-BIRD. 


9 


In  course  of  time  the  war  broke  out  which 
ended  in  the  independence  of  the  Colonies. 
During  its  commencement,  Brandon  and  Ethel- 
ston  both  remained  firm  to  the  Crown  ;  but  as 
it  advanced,  they  oecame  gradually  convinced 
of  the  impolicy  and  injustice  of  the  claims  urged 
by  England  ;  Brandon  having  sought  an  inter- 
view with  Washington,  the  arguments,  and  the 
character,  of  that  great  man  decided  him ;  he 
'oined  the  Independent  party,  obtained  a  com- 
mand, and  distinguished  himself  so  much  as  to 
obtain  the  esteem  and  regard  of  his  commander. 
As  soon  as  peace  was  established  he  had,  for 
reasons  before  stated,  determined  to  change  his 
residence,  and  persuaded  Ethelston  to  accom- 
pany him  with  his  family. 

After  the  dreadful  domestic  calamity  men- 
tioned in  the  first  chapter,  and  the  untimely 
death  of  Ethelston,  Colonel  Brandon  sent  Ed- 
ward, the  son  of  his  deceased  friend,  to  a  dis- 
tant relative  in  Hamburgh,  desiring  that  every 
care  might  "be  given  to  give  him  a  complete 
mercantile  and  liberal  education,  including  two 
years'  study  at  a  German  university. 

Mez^nwhile  the  old  Squire  Brandon  was  dead, 
but  his  son  and  successor  had  written,  after  his 
own  strange  fashion,  a  letter  to  his  sister,  beg- 
ging her  to  send  over  her  boy  to  England,  and  he 
would  "  make  a  man  of  him."  After  duly  weigh- 
ing this  proposal,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Brandon  de- 
termined to  avail  themselves  of  it ;  and  Reginald 
was  accordingly  sent  over  to  his  uncle,  who  had 
promised  to  enter  him  immediately  at  Oxford. 

When  Reginald  arrived,  Marmaduke  Shirley 
turned  him  round  half  a  dozen  times,  felt  his 
arms,  punched  his  ribs,  looked  at  his  ruddy 
cheeks  and  brown  hair,  that  had  never  known 
a  barber,  and  exclaimed  to  a  brother  sportsman 
who  was  standing  by,  "  D — d  if  he  ain't  one  of 
the  right  sort!  eh,  Harry  1"  But  if  the  uncle 
was  pleased  with,  the  lad's  appearance,  much 
more  delighted  was  he  with  his  accomplish- 
ments :  for  he  could  walk  down  any  keeper  on 
the  estate,  he  sat  on  a  horse  like  a  young  cen- 
taur, and  his  accuracy  with  a  rifle  perfectly 
confounded  the  Squire.  "  If  this  isn't  a  chip 
of  the  old  block,  my  name  isn't  Marmaduke 
Shirley,"  said  he ;  and  for  a  moment  a  shade 
crossed  his  usually  careless  brow,  as  he  remem-.- 
bered  that  he  had  wooed,  and  married,  and 
been  left  a  childless  widower. 

But  although  at  Shirley  Hall  Reginald  fol- 
lowed the  sports  of  the  field  with  the  ardour 
natural  to  his  age  and  character,  he  rather  an- 
noyed the  Squire  by  his  obstinate  and  perse- 
vering attention  to  his  studies  at  College ;  he 
remembered  that  walking  and  shooting  were 
accomplishments  which  he  might  have  acquired 
and  perfected  in  the  woods  of  Virginia  ;  but  he 
felt  it  due  to  his  parents,  and  to  the  confidence 
whicii  they  had  reposed  in  his  discretion,  to 
carry  back  with  him  some  more  useful  knowl- 
edge and  learning. 

With  this  dutiful  motive,  he  commenced  his 
Btudies ;  and  as  he  advanced  in  them,  his  natu- 
rally quick  intellect  seized  on  and  appreciated 
the  beauties  presented  to  it ;  authors,  in  whose 
writings  he  had  imagined  and  expected  little 
else  but  difficulties,  soon  became  easy  and  fa- 
miliar; and  what  he  had  imposed  upon  himself 
from  a  high  principle  as  a  task,  proved,  ere  long 
a  source  of  abundant  pleasure. 


In  I  he  vacations  he  visited  his  good-humour 
ed  uncle,  who  never  failed  to  rally  him  as  'i 
"  Latin-monger"  and  a  book-worm  ;  but  R,egi- 
nald  bore  the  jokes  with  temper  not  less  merr-o 
than  his  uncle's ;  and  whenever,  after  a  hard 
run,  he  had  "  pounded"  the  Squire  or  the  hunts- 
man, he  never  failed  to  retaliate  by  ansv.'eriag 
the  compliments  paid  him  on  his  riding  with 
some  such  jest  as  "  Pretty  well  for  a  book-worm, 
uncle."  It  soon  became  evident  to  all  the  ten- 
ants, servants,  and  indeed  to  the  whole  neigh- 
boiirhood,  that  Reginald  exercised  a  despotic 
influence  over  the  Squire,  who  respected  inter- 
nally those  literary  attainments  in  his  nephew 
which  he  affected  to  ridicule. 

When  Reginald  had  taken  his  degree,  which 
he  did  with  high  honour  and  credit,  he  felt  an 
ardent  desire  to  visit  his  friend  and  school-fel- 
low, Edward  Ethelston,  in  Germany  ;  he  was 
also  anxious  to  see  something  of  the  Continent, 
and  to  study  the  foreign  languages ;  this  wish 
he  expressed  without  circumlocution  to  the 
Squire,  who  received  the  communication  with 
undisguised  disapprobation  :  "  What  the  devil 
can  the  boy  want  to  go  abroad  fori  not  satisfied 
with  wasting  two  or  three  years  poking  over 
Greek,  Latin,  Mathematics,  and  other  infernal 
'  atics'  and  '  ologies,'  now  you  must  go  across 
the  Channel,  to  eat  sour-crout,  soup-maigre, 
and  frogs !  I  won't  hear  of  it,  sir ;"  and  in 
order  to  keep  his  wrath  warm,  the  Squire  poked 
the  fire  violently. 

In  spite  of  this  determination  Reginald,  33 
usual  carried  his  point,  and  in  a  few  weeks  was 
on  board  a  packet  bound  for  Hamburgh,  his 
purse  being  well  filled  by  the  Squire,  who  told 
him  to  see  all  that  could  be  seen,  and  •'  not  to 
let  any  of  those  Mounseers  top  him  at  any- 
thing." Reginald  was  also  provided  with  let- 
ters of  credit  to  a  much  larger  amount  than  he 
required ;  but  the  first  hint  which  he  gave  of  a 
wish  to  decline  a  portion  of  the  Squire's  gene- 
rosity raised  such  a  storm,  that  our  hero  was 
fain  to  submit. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Containing  sundry  adventures  of  Reginald  Brandon  and 
his  friend  Ethelston  on  the  Continent ;  also  some  further 
proceedings  at  Squire  Shirley's  ;  and  the  return  of  Reg- 
inald Brandon  to  his  home.  In  this  chapter  the  sport- 
ing reader  will  find  an  example  of  an  unmade  rider  on 
a  made  hunter. 

Reginald  having  joined  his  attached  and 
faithful  friend  Ethelston  at  Hamburgh,  the 
young  men  agreed  to  travel  together  ;  and  the 
intimacy  of  their  early  boyhood  ripened  into  a 
mature  friendship,  based  upon  a  mutual  esteem  ; 
in  personal  advantages,  Reginald  was  greatly 
the  superior;  for  although  unusually  tall  and 
strongly  built,  such  was  the  perfect  symmetry 
of  his  proportions,  that  his  height,  and  the  great 
muscular  strength  of  his  chest  and  limbs,  were 
carried  off  by  the  grace  with  which  he  moved, 
and  by  the  air  of  high-breeding  by  which  he  was 
distinguished ;  his  countenance  was  noble  and 
open  in  expression ;  and  though  there  was  a 
fire  in  his  dark  eye  which  betokened  passions 
easily  aroused,  still  there  was  a  franknes?  on 
the  brow,  and  a  smile  around  the  mouth  iliat 
told  of  a  nature  at  once  kindly,  fearless,  and 
without  suspicion. 


10 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Ethelston,  who  was,  be  it  remembered,  three 
yeais  older  than  his  friend,  was  of  middle  stat- 
ure, t)ut  active  and  well  proportioned  ;  his  hair 
and  eyebrows  were  of  the  jettest  black,  and  his 
countenance  thoughtful  and  grave ;  but  there 
was  about  the  full  and  firm  lip  an  expression  of 
determination  not  to  be  mistaken  ;  habits  of 
study  and  reflection  had  already  written  their 
trace  upon  his  high  and  intellectual  brow ;  so 
that  one  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time  might 
imagine  him  only  a  severe  student ;  but  ere  he 
bad  seen  him  an  hour  in  society,  he  would  pro- 
nounce him  a  man  of  practical  and  command- 
ing character.  The  shade  of  melancholy,  which 
was  almost  habitual  on  his  countenance,  dated 
from  the  death  of  his  father,  brought  prema- 
turely by  sorrow  to  his  grave,  and  from  the  loss 
of  his  little  sister,  to  whom  he  had  been  tender- 
.y  attached.  The  two  friends  loved  each  other 
with  the  affection  of  brothers  ;  and,  after  the 
separation  of  the  last  few  years,  each  found  in 
the  other  newly  developed  qualities  to  esteem. 

The  state  of  Europe  during  the  autumn  of 
1795  not  being  favourable  for  distant  excur- 
sions, Ethelston  contented  himself  with  show- 
ing his  friend  all  objects  worthy  of  his  attention 
in  the  north  of  Germany,  and  at  the  same  time 
assisted  him  in  attaining  its  rich,  though  diffi- 
cult language  ;  by  associating  much  during  the 
winter,  with  the  students  from  the  Universities, 
Reginald  caught  some  of  their  enthusiasm  re- 
specting the  defence  of  their  country  from  the 
arms  of  the  French  republic  ;  he  learned  that  a 
large  number  of  Ethelston's  acquaintances  at 
Hamburgh  had  resolved  in  the  spring  to  join  a 
corps  of  volunteers  from  the  Hanseatic  towns, 
destined  to  fight  under  the  banner  of  the  Arch- 
du  le  Charles ;  to  their  own  surprise,  our  two 
friends  were  carried  away  by  the  stream,  and 
found  themselves  enrolled  in  a  small,  but  active 
and  gallant  band  of  sharp-shooters,  ordered  to 
act  on  the  flank  of  a  large  body  of  Austrian  in- 
fantry. More  than  once  the  impetuous  courage 
of  Reginald  had  nearly  cost  him  his  life;  and 
in  the  action  at  Amberg,  where  the  Archduke 
defeated  General  Bernadotte,  he  received  two 
wounds,  such  as  would  have  disabled  a  man  of 
'ess  hardy  constitution.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Ethelston,  whose  bravery  was  tempered  by  un- 
ruffled coolness,  urged  his  friend  to  expose  him- 
«elf  less  wantonly  ;  Reginald  always  promised 
■t,  but  in  the  excitement  of  the  action  always 
'ergot  the  promise. 

After  he  had  recovered  from  his  wounds,  his 
"iommanding  oflicer,  who  had  noticed  his  fear- 
tess  daring,  a  quality  so  valuable  in  the  skir- 
"nishing  duty,  to  which  his  corps  were  appoint- 
ed, sent  for  him,  and  offered  to  promote  him. 
''Sir,''  said  Reginald,  modestly,  "  I  thank  you 
heartily,  but  I  must  decline  the  honour  you  pro- 
pose to  me.  I  am.  too  inexperienced' to  lead 
others;  my  friend  and  comrade,  Ethelston,  is 
three  years  my  senior ;  in  action  he  is  always 
by  my  side,  sometimes  before  me  ;  he  has  more 
skill  or  riper  judgment ;  any  promotion  that 
should  prefer  me  before  him,  would  be  most 
painful  to  me."  He  bowed  and  withdrew.  On 
the  following  day,  the  same  oflicer,  who  had 
mentioned  Reginald's  conduct  to  the  Archduke, 
presented  each  of  the  friends,  from  him,  with  a 
gold  medal  of  the  Emperor ;  a  distinction  the 
more  gratifying  to  Reginald,  from  his  knowledge 


that  he  had  been  secretly  the  means  of  brmgnig 
his  friend's  merit  into  the  notice  of  his  com- 
mander. 

They  served  through  the  remainder  of  that 
campaign,  when  the  arms  of  the  contending 
parties  met  with  alternate  success  ;  towards  its 
close,  the  Archduke  having  skilfully  effected 
his  object  of  uniting  his  forces  to  the  corps 
d'armee  under  General  Wartenleben,  compelled 
the  French  to  evacuate  Franconia,  and  to  re- 
tire towards  Switzerland. 

This  retreat  was  conducted  with  much  siiifl 
by  General  Moreau ;  several  times  did  the 
French  rear-guard  make  an  obstinate  stand 
against  the  pursuers,  among  whom  Reginald 
and  his  comrades  were  always  the  foremost. 
On  one  occasion,  the  French  army  occupied 
a  position  so  strong  that  they  were  not  driven 
from  it  without  heavy  loss  on  both  sides  ;  and 
even  after  the  force  of  numbers  had  compelled 
the  main  body  to  retire,  there  remained  a  gal- 
lant band  who  seemed  resolved  to  conquer  or 
die  upon  the  field ;  in  vain  did  the  Austrian 
leaders,  in  admiration  of  their  devoted  valour, 
call  to  them  to  surrender  ;  without  yielding  an 
inch  of  ground,  they  fell,  fighting  where  they 
stood.  Reginald  made  the  most  desperate  ef- 
forts to  save  their  young  commander,  whose 
chivalrous  appearance  and  brilliantly  decorated 
uniform  made  him  remarkable  from  a  great 
distance ;  several  times  did  he  strike  aside  a 
barrel  pointed  at  the  French  oflicer;  but  it  was 
too  late ;  and  when  at  length,  covered  with 
dust,  and  sweat,  and  blood,  he  reached  tho 
spot,  he  found  the  young  hero  whom  he  had 
striven  to  save,  stretched  on  the  ground  by 
several  mortal  wounds  in  his  breast ;  he  saw, 
however,  Reginald's  kind  intention,  smiled 
gratefully  upon  him,  waved  his  sword  over  his 
head,  and  died. 

The  excitement  of  the  battle  was  over,  and 
leaning  on  his  sword,  Reginald  still  bent  over 
the  noble  form  and  marble  features  of  the 
young  warrior  at  his  feet,  and  he  sighed  deeply 
when  he  thought  how  suddenly  had  this  flower 
of  manly  beauty  been  cut  down.  "  Perjuaps," 
said  he,  half  aloud,  "  some  now  childless  moth- 
er yet  waits  for  this  last  prop  of  her  age  and 
name  ;  or  some  betrothed  lingers  at  her  win- 
dow, and  wonders  why  he  so  long  delays." 

Ethelston  was  at  his  side,  his  eyes  also  bent 
sadly  upon  the  same  object ;  the  young  friends 
interchanged  a  warm  and  silent  grasp  of  the 
hand,  each  feeling'  that  he  read  the  heart  of 
the  other  !  At  this  moment,  a  groan  escaped 
from  a  wounded  min,  who  was  half  buried  un- 
der the  bleeding  bodies  of  his  comrades  ;  with 
some  difficulty  Reginald  dragged  him  out  from 
below  them,  and  the  poor  fellow  thanked  him 
for  his  humanity  ;  he  had  only  received  a  slight 
wound  on  the  head  from  a  spent  ball,  which 
had  stunned  him  for  the  time  ;  but  he  soon  re- 
covered from  its  effects,  and  looking  around,  ho 
saw  the  body  of  the  young  commander  stretched 
on  the  plain. 

"Ah,  man  pauvre  General!"  he  exclaimed; 
and  on  farther  inquiry,  Reginald  learned  that  it 
was  indeed  the  gallant,  the  admired,  the  belov- 
ed General  Marceau,  w  hose  brilliant  career  waa 
thus  untimely  closed. 

"  I  will  go,"  whispered  Ethelston,  "  and  bear 
this  tidings  to  the  Archduke  ;  meantime,  Regi- 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


11 


nald,  guard  the  honoured  remains  from  the 
camp-spoiler  and  the  plunderer."  So  saying  he 
withdrew ;  and  Reginald,  stooping  over  the 
prostrate  form  before  him,  stretched  it  decently, 
closed  the  eyes,  and  throwing  a  mantle  over 
the  splendid  uniform,  sat  down  to  indulge  in  the 
serious  meditations  inspired  by  the  scene. 

He  was  soon  aroused  from  them  by  the  poor 
fellow  whom  he  had  dragged  forth,  who  said  to 
him,  "  Sir,  I  yield  myself  your  prisoner." 

"  And  who  are  you,  my  friend  1" 

"  I  was  courier,  valet,  and  cook  to  M.  de  Ya- 
reuil,  aide-de-camp  to  the  General  Marceau  ; 
both  lie  dead  together  before  you." 

"  And  what  is  your  name,  my  good  fellow  1" 

"  Gustave  Adolphe  Montmorenci  Perrot." 

"A  fair  string  of  names,  indeed,"  said  Regi- 
nald, smiling.  "  But  pray.  Monsieur  Perrot, 
how  came  you  here  1  are  you  a  soldier  as  well 
as  a  courier  1" 

"  Monsieur  does  me  too  much  honour,"  said 
the  other,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  I  only 
came  from  the  baggage-train  with  a  message  to 
my  master,  and  your  avant-garde  peppered  us 
60  hotly  that  I  could  not  get  back  again.  I  am 
not  fond  of  fighting ;  but  somehow,  when  I  saw 
poor  Monsieur  de  Vareuil  in  so  sad  a  plight,  I 
did  not  wish  to  leave  him." 

Reginald  looked  at  the  speaker,  and  thought 
he  had  never  seen  in  one  faqe  such  a  compound 
of  slyness  and  honesty,  drollery  and  sadness. 
He  did  not,  however,  reply,  and  relapsed  into 
his  meditation.  Before  five  minutes  had  passed. 
Monsieur  Perrot,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  idea, 
fell  on  his  knees  before  Reginald,  and  said, 

"  Monsieur  has  saved  my  life — will  he  grant 
ne  yet  one  favour?' 

"  If  within  my  power,"  said  Reginald,  good- 
iumouredly. 

"  Will  Monsieur  take  me  into  his  service  1  I 
aave  travelled  over  all  Europe ;  I  have  lived 
long  in  Paris,  London,  Vienna  ;  I  may  be  of  use 
.0  Monsieur  ;  but  I  have  no  home  now." 

"  Nay,  but  Monsieur  Perrot,  I  want  no  serv- 
ant ;  I  am  only  a  volunteer  with  the  army." 

"I  see  what  Monsieur  is,"  said  Perrot,  archly, 
"in  spite  of  the  dust  and  blood  with  which  he 
is  disfigured.  I  will  ask  no  salary  ;  I  will  share 
your  black  bread,  if  you  are  poor,  and  will  live 
in  your  pantry  if  you  are  rich :  I  only  want  to 
eerve  you." 

Monsieur  Perrot's  importunity  overruled  all 
the  objections  that  Reginald  could  raise ;  and 
he  at  last  consented  to  the  arrangement,  pro- 
vided the  former,  after  due  reflection,  should 
adhere  to  his  wish. 

Ethelston  meanwhile  returned  with  the  party 
sent  by  the  Archduke  to  pay  the  last  token  of 
respect  to  the  remains  of  the  youthful  General. 
They  were  interred  with  all  the  military  hon- 
ours due  to  an  officer  whose  reputation  was, 
considering  his  years,  second  to  none  in  France, 
save  that  of  Napoleon  himself. 

After  the  ceremony.  Monsieur  Perrot,  now  on 
parole  not  to  bear  arms  against  Austria,  obtain- 
ed leave  to  return  to  the  French  camp  for  a 
week,  in  order  to  "  arrange  his  affairs,"  at  the 
expiration  of  which  he  promised  to  rejoin  his 
new  master.  Ethelston  blamed  Reginald  for 
his  thoughtlessness  in  engaging  this  untried  at- 
tendant. The  latter,  however,  laughed  at  his 
friend,  and  said,  "  Though  he  is  such  a  droll- 


looking  creature,  I  think  there  is  good  in  him 
at  all  events,  rest  assured  I  will  not  trust  him 
far  without  trial." 

A  few  weeks  after  these  events.  General  Mo- 
reau  having  effected  his  retreat  into  Switzer- 
land, an  armistice  was  concluded  on  the  Rhine 
between  the  contending  armies  ;  and  Reginald 
could  no  longer  resist  the  imperative  commands 
of  his  Uncle  to  return  to  Shirley  Hall.  Mon- 
sieur Gustave  Adolphe  Montmorenci  Perrot  had 
joined  his  new  master,  with  a  valise  admirably 
stocked,  and  wearing  a  peruke  of  a  most  fash- 
ionable cut.  Ethelston  shrewdly  suspected  that 
these  had  formed  part  of  poor  Monsieur  de  Va- 
reuil's  wardrobe,  and  his  dislike  of  Reginald's 
foppish  valet  was  not  thereby  diminished. 
■  On  the  route  to  Hamburgh  the  friends  passed 
through  many  places  where  the  luxuries,  and 
even  the  necessaries,  of  life  had  been  rendered 
scarce  by  the  late  campaign.  Here  Perrot  was 
in  his  element  ;  fatigue  seemed  to  be  unknown 
to  him  ;  he  was  always  ready,  active,  useful  as 
a  courier,  and  unequalled  as  a  cook  and  a  caterer ; 
so  that  Ethelston  was  compelled  to  confess  that 
if  he  only  proved  honest,  Reginald  had  indeed 
found  a  treasure. 

At  Hamburgh  the  two  friends  took  an  affec- 
tionate farewell,  promising  to  meet  each  other 
in  the  course  of  the  following  year  on  the  banks 
of  the  Ohio.  Reginald  returned  to  his  Uncle, 
who  stormed  dreadfully  when  he  learned  that 
he  had  brought  with  him  a  French  valet,  and 
remained  implacable  in  spite  of  the  circumstan- 
ces under  which  he  had  been  engaged ;  until 
one  morning,  when  a  footman  threw  down  the 
tray  on  which  he  was  carrying  up  the  Squire's 
breakfast  of  beeksteaks  and  stewed  kidneys, 
half  an  hour  before  "  the  meet"  at  his  best  cover- 
side.  What  could  now  be  donel  The  cook 
was  sulky,  and  sent  word  that  there  were  no 
more  steaks  or  kidneys  to  be  had.  The  Squire 
•was  wrath  and  hungry.  Reginald  laughed,  and 
said,  "  Uncle,  send  for  Perrot." 

"  Perrot  be  d — d  !"  cried  the  Squire.  "  Does 
the  boy  think  I  want  some  pomatum  1  What 
else  could  that  coxcomb  give  me  !" 

"May  I  try  him,  Uncle  1"  said  Reginald,  still 
laughing. 

"  You  may  try  him :  but  if  he  plays  any  ot 
his  jackanapes  pranks,  PU  tan  his  hide  for  him, 
I  promise  you !" 

Reginald  having  rung  for  Perrot,  pointed  to 
the  remains  of  the  good  things  which  a  servant 
was  still  gathering  up,  and  said  to  him,  "  Send 
up  breakfast  for  Mr.  Shirley  and  myself  in  one 
quarter  of  an  hour  from  this  minute :  you  are 
permitted  to  use  what  you  find  in  the  larder ; 
but  be  punctual." 

Perrot  bowed,  and,  without  speaking,  disap- 
peared. 

"  The  devil  take  the  fellow  !  he  has  some 
sense,"  said  the  angry  Squire  ;  "  he  can  receive 
an  order  without  talking;  one  of  my  hulking 
knaves  would  have  stood  there  five  minutes  out 
of  the  fifteen,  saying,  '  Yes,  sir  ;  PU  see  what 
can  be  done  :'  or,  '  PU  ask  Mr.  AUtripe,'  or 
some  other  infernal  stuff.  Come,  Reginald, 
look  at  your  watch.  Let  us  stroll  to  the  stable ; 
we'll  be  back  to  a  minute  ;  and  if  that  fellow 
plays  any  of  his  French  tricks  upon  me,  Pll  give 
it  him."  So  saying,  the  jolly  Squire  cut  the 
head  off  one  of  his  gardener's  favourite  plants, 


12 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


with  his  hunting  whip,  and  led  the  way  to  the 
stable. 

M'e  may  now  return  to  Monsieur  Perrot,  and 
see  how  he  set  about  the  discharge  of  his  sud- 
den commission  ;  but  it  may  be  necessary,  at 
the  same  time,  to  explain  one  or  two  particulars 
not  known  to  his  master,  or  to  the  Squire. 
Monsieur  Perrot  was  very  gallant,  and  his  ten- 
der heart  had  been  smitten  by  the  charms  of 
Mary,  the  still-room  maid  ;  it  so  happened  on 
this  very  morning  that  he  had  prepared  slily,  as 
a  surprise,  a  little  "  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette," 
with  which  he  intended  to  soften  Mary's  obdu- 
racy. We  will  not  inquire  how  he  had  obtained 
the  mushroom,  the  lemon,  and  the  sundry  other 
good  things  with  which  he  was  busily  engaged 
in  dressing  a  plump  hen-pheasant,  vifhen  he  re- 
ceived the  above  unexpected  summons.  Mon- 
sieur Perrot's  vanity  was  greater  than  either  his 
gourmandise  or  his  love ;  and,  without  hesita- 
tion, he  determined  to  sacrifice  to  it  the  hen- 
pheasant  :  his  first  step  was  to  run  to  the  still- 
room  ;  and  having  stolen  a  kiss  from  Mary,  and 
received  a  box  on  the  ear  as  a  reward,  he  gave 
her  two  or  three  very  brief  but  important  hints 
fbr  the  coifee,  which  was  to  be  made  immedi- 
ately ;  he  then  turned  his  attention  to  the  hen- 
pheasant,  sliced  some  bacon,  cut  up  a  ham,  took 
possession  of  a  whole  basket  of  eggs,  and  flew 
about  the  kitchen  with  such  surprising  activity, 
and  calling  for  so  many  things  at  once,  that  Mr. 
AUtripe  left  his  dominion,  and  retired  to  his 
own  room  in  high  dudgeon. 

Meanwhile  the  Squire,  having  sauntered 
through  the  stables  with  Reginald,  and  enlight- 
ened him  with  various  comments  upon  the 
points  and  qualities  of  his  favourite  hunters, 
took  out  his  watch,  and  exclaimed,  "the  time  is 
up,  my  boy  ;  let  us  go  in  and  see  what  your  pre- 
cious Mounseer  has  got  for  us."  As  they  en- 
tered the  library,  Monsieur  opened  the  opposite 
door,  and  announced  breakfast  as  quietly  and 
composedly  as  if  no  unusual  demand  had  been 
made  upon  his  talents.  The  Squire  led  the  way 
into  the  breakfast-room,  and  was  scarcely  more 
surprised  than  was  Reginald  himself  at  the 
viands  that  regaled  his  eye  on  the  table.  In 
addition  to  the  brown  and  white  loaves,  the  rolls, 
and  other  varieties  of  bread,  there  smoked  on 
one  dish  the  delicate  salmi  of  pheasant,  on  an- 
other the  Squire's  favourite  dish  of  bacon,  with 
poached  eggs,  and  on  a  third,  a  most  tempting 
Omelette  au  Jatnbon. 

Marmaduke  Shirley  opened  his  eyes  and 
mouth  wide  with  astonishment,  as  Monsieur 
Perrot  offered  him,  one  after  another,  these  del- 
icacies, inquiring,  with  undisturbed  gravity,  if 
"  Monsieur  desired  anything  else  1  as  there  were 
other  dishes  ready  below  !" 

"  Other  dishes  !  why,  man,  here's  a  breakfast 
for  a  Court  of  aldermen,"  said  the  Squire;  and 
naring  ascertained  that  the  things  were  as 
agreeable  to  the  taste  as  to  the  eye,  and  that 
the  coffee  was  more  clear  and  high  flavoured 
than  he  had  ever  tasted  before,  he  seized  his 
oepLew's  hand,  saying,  "  Reginald,  my  boy,  I 
give  in  ;  your  Master  Perrafs  a  trump,  and  no 
man  shall  ever  speak  a  word  against  him  in 
this  house  !  A  rare  fellow  !"  here  he  took  an- 
other turn  at  the  omelette  ;  "  hang  me  if  he 
shan't  have  a  day's  sport;"  and  the  Squire, 
chuckling  at  the  idea  that  had  suddenly  crossed 


him,  rang  the  bell  violently:  "Tell  Repton, 
said  he  to  the  servant  who  entered,  "to  saddle 
'  Rattling  Bess'  for  Monsieur   Perrot,  and   to 
take  her  to  the  cover- side  with  the  other  hor- 
ses, at  ten." 

"She  kicks  a  bit  at  starting,"  he  added  to 
Reginald;  "but  she's  as  safe  as  a  mill;  and 
though  she  rushes  now  and  then  at  the  fences, 
she  always  gets  through  or  over  'em." 

Now  it  was  poor  Perrot's  turn  to  be  aston- 
ished :  to  do  him  justfce,  he  was  neither  a  had 
horseman  (as  a  courier)  nor  a  coward  ;  but  he 
had  never  been  out  with  hounds,  and  the  enu- 
meration of  "Rattling  Bes.s's"  qualities  did  not 
sound  very  attractive  to  his  ear ;  he  began 
gently  to  make  excuses,  and  to  decline  the  pro- 
posed favour  :  he  had  not  the  "  proper  dress  ;" 
"  he  had  much  to  do  for  Monsieur's  wardrobe  at 
home  ;"  but  it  was  all  to  no  purpose,  the  Squire 
was  determined  ;  Repton's  coat  and  breeches 
would  fit  him,  and  go  he  mjist. 

With  a  rueful  look  at  his  master,  Perrot  slunk 
off,  cursing  in  his  heart  the  salmi  and  the  ome- 
lette, which  had  procured  him  this  undesired 
favour ;  but  he  was  ordered  to  lose  no  time  in 
preparing  himself,  so  he  first  endeavoured  to 
get  into  Mr.  Ripton's  clothes ;  that  proved  im- 
possible, as  Mr.  R.  had  been  a  racing  jockey,  - 
and  was  a  feather-weight,  with  legs  like  nut- 
crackers ;  having  no  time  for  deliberation.  Mon- 
sieur Perrot  drew  from  his  valise  the  coiyier 
suit  which  he  had  worn  in  France ;  and,  tor^he 
surprise  of  the  whole  party  assembled'at  the 
door,  he  appeared  clad  in  a  blue  coat,  turned  up 
with  yellow,  a  cornered  hat,  and  enormous 
boots,  h"'f  a  foot  higher  than  his  knees  :  he  was 
ordered  to  jump  up  behind -the  Squire's  car- 
riage, and  away  they  went  to  the  cover-side, 
amid  the  ill-suppressed  titter  of  the  grooms  and 
footmen,  and  the  loud  laughter  of  the  maids, 
whose  malicious  faces,  not  excepting  that  of 
Mary,  were  at  the  open  v/indows  below. 

When  they  reached  the  place  appointed  for 
"  the  meet,"  and  proceeded  to  mount  the  impa-  I 
tient  horses  awaiting  them,  Perrot  eyed  with 
no  agreeable  anticipation  the  long  ears  of  Rat- 
tling Bess  laid  back,  and  the  restless,  wag  of 
her  rat-tail,  and  he  ventured  one  more  attempt 
at  an  escape.  "  Really,  sir,"  said  he  to  the 
Squire,  "  I  never  hunted,  and  I  drtn't  think  I 
can  manage  that  animal ;  she  looks  very  sav- 
age." 

"  Never  mind  her.  Monsieur  Perrot,"  said 
the  Squire,  enjoying  the  poor  valet's  ill-disse«i 
bled  uneasiness.  "  She  knows  her  business 
here  as  well  as  any  whipper-in  or  huu'.sman  ; 
only  let  her  go  her  own  way,  and  you'll  never 
be  far  from  the  brush." 

"  Very  well,"  muttered  Perrot ;  "  I  hope  she 
knows  her  business  ;  I  know  mine,  and  that  is 
to  keep  on  her  back,  which  PU  do  as  well  as  I 
can." 

The  eyes  of  the  whol6  field  were  upon  this 
strangely  attired  figure,  and  as  soon  as  he  got 
into  the  saddle,  "  Rattling  Bess"  began  to  kick 
and  plunge  violently ;  we  have  said  that  ho 
was  not  in  some  respects  a  bad  horseman,  and 
although  in  this,  her  first  prank,  he  lost  one  of 
his  stirrups,  and  his  cornered  hat  fell  off,  he 
contrived  to  keep  both  his  seat  and  his  temper  ; 
while  the  hounds  were  drawing  the  cover,  one 
of  the  Squire's  grooms  restored  the  hat,  and 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


13 


gave  him  a  string  wherewith  to  fasten  it,  an 
operation  which  he  had  scarcely  concluded,  when 
the  inspiring  shouts  of  "  Tally-ho,"  "  Gone 
away,"  "  Forward,"  rang  on  his  ears.  "  Rat- 
tling Bess"  seemed  to  understand  the  sounds 
as  well  as  ever  alderman  knew  a  dinner-bell ; 
and  away  she  went  at  full  gallop,  convincing 
Monsieur  Perrot,  after  an  ineffectual  struggle 
of  a  few  minutes  on  his  part,  that  both  the 
speed  and  direction  of  her  course  were  matters 
over  which  he  could  not  exercise  the  smallest 
influence. 

On  they  flew,  over  meadow  and  stile,  ditch 
md  hedge,  nothing  seemed  to  check  Rattling 
Bess  ;  and  while  all  the  field  were  in  astonished 
admiration  at  the  reckless  riding  of  the  strange 
courier,  that  worthy  was  catching  his  breath 
and  muttering  through  his  teeth  '•  Diable  d'ani- 
mal,  she  have  a  mouth  so  hard,  like  one  of  Mr. 
Alltripe's  bif-steak — she  know  her  business — 
and  a  sacre  business  it  is — hola  there  !  mind 
yourself!"  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
to  a  horseman  whose  horse  had  fallen  in  brush- 
ing through  a  thick  hedge,  and  was  struggling 
to  rise  on  the  other  side  just  as  Rattling  Bess 
followed  at  tremendous  speed  over, the  same 
place  ;  lighting  upon  the  hind-quarters  of  her 
hapless  predecessor,  and  scraping  all  the  skin 
off  his  loins,  she  knocked  the  rider  head  over 
heels  into  the  ploughed^  field  where  his  face 
was  buried  a  foot  deep  in  dirty  mould  ;  by  a 
powerful  effort  she  kept  herself  from  falling, 
and  wept  gallantly  over  the  field  ;  Perrot  still 
muttering,  as  he  tugged  at  the  insensible  mouth, 
"  She  know  her  business,  she  kill  dat  poor  devil 
in  the  dirt,  she  kill  herself  and  me  too." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  hounds,  having  over- 
run the  scent,  came  to  a  check,  and  were  gath- 
ered by  the  huntsman  into  a  green  lane,  whence 
they  were  about  to  "  try  back"  as  Rattling  Bess 
came  up  at  unabated  speed.  "  Hold  hard  there, 
hold  hard  !"  shouted  at  once  the  huntsman,  the 
whips,  and  the  few  sportsmen  who  were  up 
with  the  hounds.  "  Where  the  devil  are  you 
going,  man  1"  "  The  fox  is  viewed  back." 
"Hallo!— you're  riding  into  the  middle  of  the 
pack."  These  and  similar  cries  scarcely  had 
time  to  reach  the  ears  of  Perrot,  ere  "  Rattling 
Bess"  sprang  over  the  hedge  into  the  green 
lane,  and  coming  down  among  the  unfortunate 
dogs,  split  the  head  of  one,  broke  the  back  of 
another,  and  laming  two  or  three  more,  carried 
her  rider  over  the  opposite  fence,  who  still  pant- 
♦  ing  for  breath,  with  his  teeth  set,  muttered, 
"  She  know  her  business,  sacre  animal." 

After  crossing  two  more  fields,  she  cleared  a 
hedge  so  thick  that  he  could  not  see  what  was 
en  the  other  side ;  but  he  heard  a  tremendous 
crash,  and  was  only  conscious  of  being  hurled 
with  violence  to  the  ground  ;  slowly  recovering 
his  senses,  he  saw  Rattling  Bess  lying  a  few 
yards  from  him,  bleeding  profusely  ;  and  his 
own  ears  were  saluted  by  the  following  com- 
passionate inquiry  from  the  lips  of  a  gardener, 
who  was  standing  over  him,  spade  in  hand  : 
"D— n  your  stupid  outlandish  head,  what  be 
you  a  doin'  here  V 

The  half-stunned  courier,  pointing  to  Rat- 
tling Bess,  replied  :  "  She  know  her  business." 
The  gardener,  though  enraged  at  the  entire 
demolition   of  his  melon-bed,   and   of  sundry 
forced  vegetables  under  glass,  was  not  an  ill- 


tempered  fellow  it.  .he  main  ;  and  seeing  that 
the  horse  was  ha.f  killed,  and  the  rider,  a 
foreigner,  much  bruised,  he  assisted  poor  Per- 
rot to  rise,  and  having  gathered  from  him,  that 
he  was  in  the  service  of  rich  Squire  Shirley, 
rendered  all  the  aid  in  his  power  to  him  and 
to  Rattling  Bess,  who  had  received  some  very 
severe  cuts  from  the  glass. 

When  the  events  ot  the  day  came  to  be  talkcl 
over  at  the  Hall,  and  it  proved  that  it  was  tha 
Squire  himself  whom  Perrot  had  so  unceremo- 
niously ridden  over, — that  the  huntsman  would 
expect  some  twenty  guineas  for  the  hounds, 
killed  or  maimed,— that  the  gardener  would 
probably  present  a  similar,  or  a  larger  account 
for  a  broken  melon-bed  and  shivered  glass,— 
and  that  Rattling  Bess  vi^as  lame  for  the  season, 
the  Squire  did  not  encourage  much  conversation 
on  the  day's  sport ;  the  only  remark  that  he 
was  heard  to  make,  being  "  What  a  fool  I  was 
to  put  a  frog-eating  Frenchman  on  an  English 
hunter !" 

Monsieur  Perrot  remained  in  his  room  for 
three  or  four  days,  not  caring  that  Mary  should 
see  his  visage  while  it  was  adorned  with  a  black 
eye  and  an  inflamed  nose. 

Soon  after  this  eventful  chase,  Reginald  oh- 
tained  his  Uncle's  leave  to  obey  his  father's 
wishes  by  visiting  Paris  for  a  few  months  ;  his 
stay  there  was  shortened  by  a  letter  which  he 
received  from  his  sister  Lucy,  announcing  to 
him  his  mother's  illness,  on  the  receipt  of  which 
he  wrote  a  few  hurried  lines  of  explanation  to 
his  Uncle,  and  sailed  by  the  first  ship  for  Phila- 
delphia, accompanied  by  the  faithful  Perrot, 
and  by  a  large  rough  dog  of  the  breed  of  the  old 
Irish  wolf- hound,  given  to  him  by  the  Squire. 

On  arriving,  he  found  his  mother  better  than 
he  had  expected  ;  and,  as  he  kissed  off  the  teara 
of  joy  which  Lucy  shed  on  his  return,  he  whis- 
pered to  her  his  belief  that  she  had  a  little  ex- 
aggerated their  mother's  illness,  in  order  to 
recall  him.  After  a  short  time,  Ethelston  also 
returned,  and  joined  the  happy  circle  assembled 
at  Colonel  Brandon's. 

It  was  now  the  spring  of  1797,  between  which 
time  and  that  mentioned  as  the  date  of  out 
opening  chapter,  a  period  of  nearly  two  years 
nothing  worthy  of  peculiar  record  occurred  ; 
Reginald  kept  up  a  faithful  correspondence 
with. his  kind  uncle,  whose  letters  showed  how 
deeply  he  felt  his  nephew's  absence.  Whether 
Monsieur  Perrot  interchanged  letters  with  Mary, 
or  consoled  himself  with  the  damsels  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  the  following  pages  may 
show.  His  master  made  several  hunting  ex- 
cursions, on  which  he  was  always  accompanied 
by  Baptiste,  a  sturdy  backwoodsman,  who  was 
more  deeply  attached  to  Reginald  than  to  any 
other  being  on  earth  ;  and  Ethelston  had,  as 
we  have  before  explained,  undertaken  the  whole 
charge  of  his  guardian's  vessels,  with  one  ol 
the  largest  of  which  he  was,  at  the  commence 
ment  of  our  tale,  absent  in  the  West  India 
Islands. 


CHAPTER  V. 

An  adventure  in  the  woods.— Reginald  Brandon  makes 

the  acquaintance  of  an  Indian  chief. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  April ;  the  robin 

was  beginning  his  early  song,  the  vvood-peckei 

darted  his  beak  against  the  rough  bark,  and  tha 


14 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


squirrel  hopped  merrily  from  bough  to  bough  I 
among  the  gigantic  trees  of  the  forest,  as  two 
hunters  followed  a  winding  path  which  led  to  a 
ferry  across  the  Muskingum  river. 

One  was  a  powerful,  athletic  young  man,  with 
a  countenance  strikingly  handsome,  and  cm- 
browned  by  exercise  and  exposure  ;  his  dress 
was  a  hunting  shirt,  and  leggings  of  deer-skin  ; 
his  curling  brown  locks  escaped  from  under  a 
cap  of  wolf-skin  ;  and  his  mocassins,  firmly  se- 
cured round  the  ankle,  were  made  from  the 
tough  hide  of  a  bear  ;  he  carried  in  his  hand  a 
short  rifle  of  heavy  calibre  and  an  ornamented 
louteau-de-chasse  hung  at  his  belt.  His  com- 
panion lower  in  stature,  but  broad,  sinewy,  and 
weather-beaten,  seemed  to  be  some  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  the  elder;  his  dress  was  of  the 
same  material,  but  more  soiled  and  worn  ;  his 
rifle  was  longer  and  heavier  ;  and  his  whole  ap- 
pearance that  of  a  man  to  whom  all  inclemen- 
cies of  season  were  indifferent,  all  the  dangers 
and  hardships  of  a  western  hunter's  life  famil- 
iar ;  but  the  most  remarkable  part  of  his  equip- 
ment was  an  enormous  axe,  the  handle  studded 
with  nails,  and  the  head  firmly  riveted  with  iron 
hoops. 

"  Well  Master  Reginald"  said  the  latter ; 
"  we  must  hope  to  find  old  Michael  and  his  fer- 
ry-boat at  the  Passage  des  Rochers,  for  the  riv- 
er is  much  swollen,  and  we  might  not  easily 
swim  it  with  dry  powder." 

"  What  reason  have  you  to  doubt  old  Mi- 
chael's being  found  at  his  post !"  said  Reginald  ; 
"  we  have  often  crossed  there,  and  have  seldom 
found  him  absent." 

"  True,  master  ;  but  he  has  of  late  become 
fery  lazy ;  and  he  prefers  sitting  by  his  fire, 
and  exchanging  a  bottle  of  fire-water  with  a 
strolling  Ingian  for  half  a  dozen  good  skins,  to 
tugging  a  great  flat-bottomed  boat  across  the 
Muskingum  during  the  March  floods." 

"  Baptiste,"  said  the  ooung  man,  "  it  grieves 
me  to  see  the  reckless  avidity  with  which  spir- 
its are  sought  by  the  Indians  ;  and  the  violence, 
outrage,  and  misery  which  are  the  general  con- 
sequence of  their  dram-drinking." 

"  Why  you  see,  there  is  something  very  good 
in  a  cup  of  West  Ingy  rum  ;"  here  Baptisle's 
hard  features  were  twisted  into  a  grin  irresis- 
tably  comic,  and  he  proceeded,  "  it  warms  the 
stomach  and  the  heart ;  and  the  savages,  when 
they  once  taste  it,  suck  at  a  bottle  by  instinct, 
as  natural  as  a  six-weeks  cub  at  his  dam  :  I 
often  wonder.  Master  Reginald,  why  you  spoil 
that  fine  eau  de  vie  which  little  Perrot  puts  into 
your  hunting  flask,  by  mixing  with  it  a  quanti- 
ty of  water  !  In  my  last  trip  to  the  mountains, 
where  I  was  first  guide  and  turpret,*  they  gave 
me  a  taste  now  and  then,  and  I  never  found  it 
do  me  harm  ;  but  the  nature  of  an  Ingian  is  dif- 
ferent, you  know." 

*'  Well,  Baptiste,"  said  Reginald,  smiling  at 
his  follower's  defence  of  his  favourite  beverage  ; 
"  I  will  say,  that  I  never  knew  you  to  take 
more  than  you  could  carry ;  but  your  head  is 
as  strong  as  your  back,  and  you  sometimes 
prove  the  strength  of  both." 

The  conversation  was  suddenly  interrupted 
by  the  report  of  Reginald's  rifle,  and  a  grey 
squirrel  fell  from  the  top  of  a  hickory,  where  he 


"  JJnffUci  "  Interpreter.' 


was  feasting  in  fancied  security.  Baptiste  tooK 
up  the  little  animal,  and  having  examined  it  at- 
tentively, shook  his  head  gravely,  saying,  "  Mas- 
ter Reginald,  there  is  not  a  quicker  eye,  nor  a 
truer  hand  in  the  Territory,  but — " 

As  he  hesitated  to  finish  the  sentence,  Regi- 
nald added  laughing,  "but — but — I  am  an  ob- 
stinate fellow,  because  I  will  not  exchange  my 
favourite  German  rifle,  with  its  heavy  bullet,  for 
a  long  Virginia  barrel,  with  a  ball  like  a  pea ; 
is  it  not  so,  Baptiste  1" 

The  guide's  natural  good-humour  struggled 
with  prejudices  which,  on  this  subject,  had  been 
more  than  once  wounded  by  his  young  compan- 
ion, as  he  replied,  "  AVhy,  Master  Reginald, 
the  deer,  whose  saddle  is  on  my  shoulder,  found 
my  pea  hard  enough  to  swallow,  and  look  here, 
at  this  poor  little  vermint  you  have  just  killed, — 
there  is  a  hole  in  his  neck  big  enough  to  let  the 
life  out  of  a  grisly  bear  ;  you  have  hit  him  near- 
ly an  inch  farther  back  than  I  taught  you  to  aim 
before  you  went  across  the  great  water,  and 
learnt  all  kinds  of  British  and  German  notions  V 

Reginald  smiled  at  the  hunter's  characteris- 
tic reproof,  and  replied  in  a  tone  of  kindness, 
"  Well,  Baptiste,  all  that  I  do  know  of  tracking 
a  deer,  or  lining  a  bee,  or  of  bringing  down  one 
of  these  little  vermint,  I  learned  first  from  you  ; 
and  if  I  am  a  promising  pupil,  the  credit  is  due 
to  Baptiste,  the  best  hunter  in  forest  or  prairie  !" 

A  glow  of  pleasure  passed  over  the  guide's 
sunburnt  countenance  ;  and  grasping  in  his  hard 
and  horny  fingers  his  young  master's  hand,  he 
said,  "  Thank'ee,  Master  Reginald  ;  and  as  for 
me,  though  I'm  only  a  poor  '  Coureur  des  bois,'*  I 
a'nt  feared  to  back  my  pupil  against  any  man  that 
walks,  from  Dan  Boone,  of  Kentucky,  to  Bloody- 
hand,  the  great  war-chief  of  the  Cayugas." 

As  he  spoke,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  river, 
and  the  blue  smoke  curling  up  among  the  trees, 
showed  our  travellers  that  they  had  not  missed 
their  path  to  Michael's  log-house  and  ferry. 
"What  have  we  here?"  exclaimed  Baptiste, 
catching  his  companion  by  the  arm  ;  "  'tis  even 
as  I  told  you  :  the  old  rogue  is  smoking  his 
pipe  over  a  glass  of  brandy  in  his  kitchen  cor- 
ner ;  and  there  is  a  wild-looking  Indian  pulling 
himself  across  with  three  horses  in  that  crazy 
batteau,  almost  as  old  and  useless  as  its  owner !" 

"  He  will  scarcely  reach  the  opposite  bank," 
said  Reginald  ;  "  the  river  is  muddy  and  swoll- 
en with  melted  snow,  and  his  horses  seem  dis- 
posed to  be  unquiet  passengers." 

They  had  now  approached  near  enough  to 
enable  them  to  distinguish  the  features  of  the 
Indian  in  the  boat ;  the  guide  scanned  them 
with  evident  surprise  and  interest,  the  result  of 
which  was,  a  noise  that  broke  from  him,  seme- 
thing  between  a  grunt  and  a  whistle,  as  he 
muttered,  "  What  can  have  brought  him  here  1" 

"  Do  you  know  that  fine-looking  fellow,  then  1 " 
inquired  Reginald. 

"  Know  him.  Master  Reginald ! — does '  Wolf* 
know  Miss  Lucy  1 — does  a  bear  know  a  bee- 
tree  1 — I  should  know  him  among  a  thousand 
Red-skins,  though  he  were  twice  as  well  dis- 
guised. Tete-bleu,  master,  look  at  those  wild 
brutes  how  they  struggle;  he  and  they  will 
taste  Muskingum  water  before  long." 

*  "  Coureur  des  bois,"  an  appellation  often  ^vcn  tollio 
Cajiadian  and  lialf-breed  woodsman. 


THE   PRAIR.IE-BIRD. 


15 


While  he  was  speaking  one  of  the  horses  | 
reared,  another  kicked  furiously,  the  shallow 
flat  boat  was  upset,  and  both  they  and  the  In- 
dian fell  headlong  into  the  river  ;  they  had  been 
secured  together  by  a  "  laryette"  or  thong  of 
hide,  which  unfortunately  came  athwart  the  In- 
dian's shoulder,  and  thus  he  was  held  below  the 
water,  while  the  struggles  of  the  frightened  ani- 
mals rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  extricate 
himself  "He  is  entangled  in  the  laryette," 
saia  me  guide ;  "  nothing  can  save  him,"  he 
added  in  a  grave  and  sadder  tone.  "  'Tis  a  no- 
ble youth,  and  I  would  have  wished  him  a  braver 
death  !  What  are  you  doing,  Master  Reginald  1 
— are  you  mad  1  No  man  can  swim  in  that 
torrent.     For  your  father's  sake — " 

But  his  entreaties  and  attempts  to  restrain 
his  impetuous  companion  were  fruitless,  for 
Reginald  had  already  thrown  on  the  ground  his 
leathern  hunting  shirt,  his  rifle,  and  ammunition ; 
and  shaking  off  the  grasp  of  the  guide  as  if  the 
latter  had  been  a  child,  he  plunged  into  the  river, 
and  swam  to  the  spot  where  the  feebler  strug- 
gles of  the  horses  showed  that  they  were  now 
almost  at  the  mercy  of  the  current.  When  he 
reached  them,  Reginald  dived  below  the  near- 
est, and  dividing  the  laryette  with  two  or  three 
successful  strokes  of  his  knife,  brought  the  ex- 
hausted Indian  to  the  surface ;  for  a  moment, 
he  feared  that  he  had  come  too  late  ;  but  on  in- 
haling a  breath  of  air,  the  Redskin  seemed  to 
regain  both  consciousness  and  strength,  and 
was  able  in  his  turn  to  assist  Reginald,  who  had 
received,  when  under  water,  a  blow  on  the 
head  from  the  horse's  hoof,  the  blood  flowing 
fast  from  the  wound  ;  short  but  expressive  was 
the  greeting  exchanged  as  they  struck  out  for 
the  bank  which  one  of  the  horses  had  already 
gained ;  another  was  bruised,  battered,  and 
tossed  about  among  some  shelving  rocks  lower 
down  the  river ;  and  the  third  was  fast  hurried 
towards  the  same  dangerous  spot,  when  the  In- 
dian, uttering  a  shrill  cry,  turned  and  swam  again 
towards  this,  his  favourite  horse,  and  by  a  great 
exertion  of  skill  and  strength,  brought  it  to  a 
part  of  the  river  where  the  current  was  less 
rapid,  and  thence  led  it  safely  ashore. 

These  events  had  passed  in  less  time  than 
their  narration  has  occupied,  and  the  whole  bi- 
ped and  quadruped  party  now  stood  drenched 
and  dripping  on  the  bank.  The  two  young  men 
gazed  at  each  other  in  silence,  with  looks  of 
mingled  interest  and  adnjiration ;  indeed,  if  a 
sculptor  had  desired  to  place  together  two  differ- 
ent specimens  of  youthful  manhood,  in  which 
symmetry  and  strength  were  to  be  gracefully 
united,  he  could  scarcely  ha^e  selected  two  finer 
models :  in  height  they  might  be  about  equal ; 
and  though  the  frame  and  muscular  proportions 
of  Reginald  were  more  powerful,  there  was  a 
roundness  and  compact  knitting  of  the  joints, 
and  a  sinewy  suppleness  in  the  limbs  of  his  new 
acquaintance,  such  as  he  thought  he  had  never 
seen  equalled  in  statuary  or  in  life.  The  In- 
dian's gaze  was  so  fixed  and  piercing,  that  Regi- 
nald's eye  wandered  more  than  once  from  his 
countenance  to  the  belt,  where  his  war-club  was 
still  suspended  by  a  thong,  the  scalp-knife  in  its 
sheath,  and  near  it  a  scalp,  evidently  that  of  a 
white  man,  and  bearing  the  appearance  of  hav- 
ing been  recently  taken. 

With  a  slight  shudder  of  disgust,  he  raised 


his  eyes  again  to  the  chiselled  featares  oi  the 
noble-looking  being  before  him,  and  felt  assured 
that  though  they  might  be  those  of  a  savage 
warrior,  they  could  not  be  those  of  a  lurking  as- 
sassin. The  Indian  now  moved  a  step  forward, 
and  taking  Reginald's  hand,  placed  it  upon  his 
own  heart,  saying  distinctly  in  English,  "My 
brother  !" 

Reginald  understood  and  appreciated  this  sim- 
ple expression  of  gratitude  and  friendship;  ho 
imitated  his  new  friend's  action,  and  evinced, 
both  by  his  looks  and  the  kindly  tones  of  his 
voice,  the  interest  which,  to  his  own  surprise, 
the  Indian  had  awakened  in  his  breast. 

At  this  juncture  they  were  joined  by  the 
guide,  who  had  paddled  himself  across  in  a 
canoe  that  he  found  at  the  ferny,  which  was  two 
hundred  yards  above  the  spot  where  they  now 
stood.  At  his  approach,  the  young  Indian  re- 
sumed his  silent  altitude  of  repose  ;  while  ap- 
parently unconscious  of  his  presence,  Baptiste 
poured  upon  his  favourite  a  mingled  torrent  of 
reproofs  and  congratulations. 

"Why,  Master  Reginald,  did  the  mad  spirit 
possess  you -to  jump  into  the  Muskingum,  and 
dive  like  an  otter,  where  the  water  was  swift 
and  dark  as  the  Niagara  rapids  !  Pardie, 
though,  it  was  bravely  done !  another  minute, 
and  our  Redskin  friend  would  have  been  in  the 
hunting-ground  of  his  forefathers.  Give  me 
your  hand,  master ;  I  love  you  better  than 
ever  !  I  had  a  mind  to  take  a  duck  myself  after 
ye  ;  but  thought,  if  bad  luck  came,  I  might  serve 
ye  better  with  the  canoe."  While  rapidly  ut- 
tering these  broken  sentences,  he  handed  to 
Reginald  the  hunting-shirt,  rifle,  and  other 
things,  which  he  had  brought  over  in  the  canoe, 
and  wrung  the  water  out  of  his  cap,  being  all 
the  time  in  a  state  of  ill-dissembled  excitement. 
This  done,  he  turned  to  the  young  Indian,  who 
was  standing  aside,  silent  and  motionless.  The 
guide  scanned  his  features  with  a  searching 
look,  and  then  muttered  audibly,  "  I  knew  it 
must  be  he." 

A  gleam  shot  from  the  dark  eye  of  the  Indian, 
proving  that  he  heard  and  understood  the 
phrase,  but  not  a  word  escaped  his  lips. 

Reginald,  unable  to  repress  his  curiosity,  ex- 
claimed, "  Must  be  who,  Baptiste"!  Who  is  my 
Indian  friend — my  brother  T' 

A  lurking  smile  played  round  the  mouth  of 
the  guide,  as  he  said  in  a  low  tone  to  the  In- 
dian, "  Does  the  paint  on  my  brother's  face  tell 
a  tale  1  is  his  path  in  the  night  1  must  his  name 
dwell  between  shut  lips  1" 

To  this  last  question  the  Indian,  moving  for- 
ward with  tlTat  peculiar  grace  and  innate  dig- 
nity which  characterized  all  his  movements, 
replied,  "The  War-Eagle  hides  his  name  from 
none  :  his  cry  is  heard  from  far,  and  his  path 
is  strait:  a  dog's  scalp  is  at  his  belt!"  Here 
he  paused  a  moment ;  and  added,  in  a  softened 
tone,  "  But  the  bad  Spirit  prevailed  ;  the  waters 
were  too  strong  for  him ;  the  swimming- war- 
rior's knife  came ;  and  again  the  War-Eagle 
saw  the  light." 

"  And  found  a  brother — is  it  not  sol"  added 
Reginald. 

"  It  is  so !"  replied  the  Indian :  and  there 
was  a  depth  of  pathos  in  the  tone  of  his  voice 
as  he  spoke,  which  convinced  Reginald  that 
those  words  came  from  the  heart. 


16 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"There  were  three  horses  with  you  in  the 
bao,"  said  the  guide :  "  two  are  under  yonder 
trees; — where  is  the  third  1" 

"  Dead,  among  those  rocks  below  the  rapids," 
answered  War-Eagle,  quietly.  "  He  was  a  fool, 
and  was  taken  from  a  fool,  and  both  are  now 
together  :"  as  he  spoke  ho^pointed  scornfully  to 
the  scalp  which  himg  at  ills  belt. 

Reginald  and  Baptiste  interchanged  looks  of 
tip'jasy  curiosity,  and  then  directing  their  eyes 
towards  the  distant  spot  indicated  by  the  In- 
dian, they  distinguished  the  battered  carcass  of 
the  animal,  partly  hid  by  the  water,  and  partly 
resting  against  the  rock,  which  prevented  it 
from  floating  down  with  the  current. 

The  party  now  turned  towards  the  horses 
among  the  trees  ;  which,  after  enjoying  them- 
selves by  rolling  in  the  grass,  were  feeding, 
apparently  unconscious  of  their  double  misde- 
meanour in  having  first  upset  the  bac,  and  then 
nearly  drowned  their  master  by  their  struggles 
in  the  water.  As  Reginald  and  hi«  two  com- 
panions approached,  an  involuntary  exclama- 
tion of  admiration  burst  from  him. 

"  Heavens,  Baptiste  !  did  you  ever  see  so 
magnificent  a  creature  as  that  with  the  laryette 
round  his  neck^  And  what  a  colour  I  it  seems 
between  chestnut  and  black  !  Look  at  his  short, 
wild  head,  his  broad  forehead,  his  bold  eye,  and 
that  long  silky  mane  falling  below  his  shoulder  I 
Look,  also,  at  his  short  back  and  legs !  Why, 
he  has  the  beauty  of  a  barb  joined  to  the  strength 
of  an  English  hunter  !" 

It  may  be  well  imagined  that  the  greater  por- 
tion of  this  might  have  been  a  soliloquy,  as 
Baptiste  understood  but  few,  the  Indian  none, 
of  the  expressions  which  Reginald  uttered  with 
enthusiastic  rapidity ;  both,  however,  under- 
stood enough  to  know  that  he  was  admiring 
the  animal,  and  both  judged  that  his  admiration 
was  not  misplaced. 

Our  hero  (for  so  we  must  denominate  Regi- 
nald Brandon)  approached  to  handle  and  caress 
the  horse ;  but  the  latter,  with  erect  ears  and 
expanded  nostrils,  snorted  an  indignant  refusal 
of  these  civilities,  and  trotted  off,  tossing  high 
his  mane  as  if  in  defiance  of  man's  dominion. 
At  this  moment,  the  War-Eagle  uttered  a  shrill, 
peculiar  cry,  when  immediately  the  obedient 
horse  came  to  his  side,  rubbing  his  head  against 
his  master's  shoulder,  and  courting  those  ca- 
resses which  he  had  so  lately  and  so  scornfully 
refused  from  Reginald. 

While  the  docile  and  intelligent  animal  thus 
stood  beside  him,  a  sudden  ray  of  light  sparkled 
in  the  Indian's  eye,  as  with  rapid  utterance,  not 
unmingled  with  gesticulation,  he. said,  "The 
War-Eagle's  path  was  toward  the  evening  sun  ; 
his  tomahawk  drank  the  Comanchee's  blood ; 
the  wild  horse  was  swift,  and  strong,  and  fierce ; 
the  cunning  man  on  the  evening  prairie  said  he 
was  Nekimi* — 'the  Great  Spirit's  angry  breath ;' 
but  the  War-Eagle's  neck-bullet  struck" — 

At  this  part  of  the  narrative,  the  guide,  car- 
ried away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  scene  de- 
scribed, ejaculated  in  the  Delaware  tongue, 
"  That  was  bravely  done  !" 

For  a  moment  the  young  Indian  paused  ;  and 
then,  with  increased  rapidity  and  vehemence, 
told  in  his  own   language   bow  he  had   cap- 

*  Nekimi  is  the  Delaware  for  "Thunder  " 


tured  and  subdued  the  horse;  which  faithlui 
creature,  seemingly  anxious  to  bear  witness  to 
the  truth  of  his  master's  tale,  still  sought  and 
returned  his  caresses.  The  Indian,  however, 
was  not  thereby  deterred  from  the  purpose 
which  had  already  made  his  eye  flasli  witli  plea- 
sure. Taking  the  thong  in  his  hand,  and  plac- 
ing it  in  that  of  Reginald,  he  said,  resuming  the 
English  tongue,  "  The  War-Eagle  gives  Nekimi 
to  his  brother.  The  .white  warrior  may  nunt 
the  mastoche,*  he  may  overtake  his  enemies, 
he  may  fly  from  the  prairie-fire  when  the  wind 
is  strong  :  Nekimi  never  tires!" 

Reginald  was  so  surprised  at  this  unexpectea 
offer,  that  he  felt  much  embarrassed,  and  hesi- 
tated whether  he  ought  not  to  decline  the  gift. 
Baptiste  saw  a  cloud  gathering  on  the  Indian's 
brow,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  to  his  master  in 
French,  "  You  must  take  the  horse ;  a  refusal 
would  mortally  offend  him."  Our  hero  accor- 
dingly accompanied  his  expression  of  thanks 
with  every  demonstration  of  satisfaction  and 
affection.  Again  War-Eagle's  face  brightened 
with  pleasure ;  but  the  effect  upon  Nekimi 
seemed  to  be  very  different,  for  he  stoutly  re- 
sisted his  new  master's  attempts  at  approach 
or  acquaintance,  snorting  and  backing  at  every 
step  made  by  Reginald  in  advance. 

"  The  white  warrior  must  learn  to  speak  to 
Nekimi,"  said  the  Indian,  quietly  ;  and  he  again 
repeated  the  short,  shrill  cry  before  noticed.  In 
vain  our  hero  tried  to  imitate  the  sound  ;  the 
horse's  ears  remained  deaf  to  his  voice,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  his  new  acquisition  could  prove  but 
of  little  service  to  him. 

War-Eagle  now  took  Reginald  aside,  and 
smeared  his  hands  with  some  grease  taken  from 
a  small  bladder  in  his  girdle,  and  on  his  extend- 
ing them  again  towards  the  horse,  much  of  the 
fear,  and  dislike  evinced  by  the  latter  disap- 
peared. As  soon  as  the  animal  would  permit 
Reginald  to  touch  it,  the  Indian  desired  him  to 
hold  its  nostril  firmly  in  his  hand,  and  placing 
his  face  by  the  horse's  head,  to  look  up  stead- 
fastly into  its  eye  for  several  minutes,  speaking 
low  at  intervals  to  accustom  it  to  his  voice  ; 
he  assured  him  that  in  a  few  days  Nekimi 
would  through  this  treatment  become  docile 
and  obedient. 


CHAPTER  VL 

Reginald  and  Baptiste  pay  a  visit  to  Wai-eaffle. — .^n  at 
tempt  at  treashery  meets  with  summary  punishment. 

The  other  horse  being  now  secured,  the  party 
prepared  to  resume  their  journey  ;  and  as  it 
appeared  after  a  few  words  whispered  between 
the  Indian  and  the  guide,  that  their  routes  were 
in  the  same  direction,  they  struck  into  the  for- 
est, Baptiste  leading,  followed  by  Reginald,  and 
War-Eagle  bringing  up  the  rear  with  ihe  two 
horses. 

After  walking  a  few  minutes  in  silence,  "  Bap» 
tiste,"  said  our  hero  in  French,  ••  what  was  the 
story  told  about  the  horse  1  I  understood  little 
of  what  he  said  in  English,  and  none  of  what  he 
spoke  in  his  own  tongue." 

*  In  the  Delaware  language  this  e.xpression  seems  ap- 
plicable to  any  large  swift  animal,  as  it  is  given  to  the  elk 
the  batfalo,  &c 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


17 


*'  rie  told  us,  Master  Reginald,  that  he  was 
out  on  a  war-party  against  the  Camanchees,  a 
wild  tribe  of  Indians  in  the  South-west ;  they 
steal  horses  from  the  Mexicans,  and  exchange 
them  with  the  Aricaras,  Kioways,  Pawnees, 
and  other  Missouri  Indians." 

"  Well,  Baptiste,  how  did  he  take  this  swift 
horse  with  his  '  neck-bullet,'  as  he  called  it  ■" 

"  Ihat,  Master  Reginald,  is  the  most  difRcult 
shot  in  the  prairie  ;  and  I  have  known  few  Red- 
skins up  to  it.  The  western  hunters  call  it 
'  creasing  ;' — a  ball  must  be  shot  just  on  the  up- 
per edge  of  the  spine  where  it  enters  the  horse's 
neck  ;  if  it  is  exactly  done,  the  horse  falls  im- 
mediately, and  is  secured,  then  the  wound  is 
afterwards  healed ;  but,  if  the  ball  strikes  an 
inch  lower,  the  spine  is  missed,  or  the  horse  is 
killed.  Few  Redskins  can  do  it,"  muttered  the 
guide,  "  and  the  '  doctor'  here,"  shaking  his 
long  rifle,  "  has  failed  more  than  once  ;  but 
War- Eagle  has  said  it,  and  there  are  no  lies  in 
■kis  moutn." 

"  Tell  me,  Baptiste,"  said  Reginald,  earn- 
estly ;  "  tell  me  something  about  my  brother's 
history,  his  race,  and  exploits." 

"  Afterwards,  my  young  master.  I  know  not 
■  that  he  understands  us  now  ;  bpt  these  Indians 
are  curious  crilturs  in  hearing  ;  I  believe  if  you 
spoke  in  that  strange  Dutch  lingo  which  you 
learnt  across  the  water,  the  Redskins  would 
know  how  to  ansvi^er  you — stay,"  he  added,  put- 
ting his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  "  here  is  work  for 
the  doctor." 

Reginald  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  piece, 
but  saw  nothing  ;  and  the  guide,  while  taking 
his  aim,  still  muttered  to  himself,  "  the  pills  are 
very  small,  but  they  work  somewhat  sharp." 
Pausing  a  moment,  he  drew  the  trigger  ;  and  a 
sudden  bound  from  under  a  brake,  at  fifty  yards 
distance,  was  the  last  death-spring  of  the  un- 
lucky deer  whose  lair  had  not  escaped  the  hun- 
ter's practised  eye. 

"  Bravely  shot,"  shouted  Reginald  ;  "  what 
•  says  War-Eagle  !" 

"  Good,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"Nay,"  said  Baptiste  ;  "  there  was  not  much 
in  the  shot ;  but  your  French  waly-de-sham 
might  have  walked  past  those  bushes  without 
noting  the  twinkle  of  that  crittur's  eye.  Our 
Redskin  friend  saw  it  plain  enough  I  warrant 
you,"  he  added,  with  an  inquiring  look. 

"  War-Eagle's  path  is  not  on  the  deer  track," 
said  the  young  chief,  with  a  stern  gravity. 

In  a  very  few  miuutes  an  additional  load  of 
venison  was  across  the  sturdy  shoulders  of  the 
guide,  and  the  party  resumed  their  march  in 
silence. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  the  Indian 
halted,  saying,  "  War-Eagle's  camp  is  near ; 
will  my  white  brother  eat  and  smoke  ! — the  sun 
is  high,  he  can  then  return  to  his  great  wig- 
wam." 

Reginald,  who  was  anxious  to  see  more  of 
bis  new  friend,  and  in  whom  the  morning's  ex- 
ercise had  awakened  a  strong  relish  for  a  slice 
of  broiled  venison,  assented  at  once,  and  desired 
him  to  lead  the  way. 

As  he  was  still  followed  by  the  two  horses, 
War-Eagle  was  somewhat  in  advance  of  his 
companions,  and  Baptiste  whispered  in  French, 
"  Beware,  Master  Reginald — you  may  fall  into 
A  trap." 

B 


"  For  shame,"  said  the  latter,  colouring  with 
indignation  ;  "  can  you  suspect  treachery  m 
him  1  Did  you  not  yourself  say  he  could  not 
liel" 

"  Your  reproof  is  undeserved,"  said  the  cool 
and  wary  hunter ;  "  War-Eagle  may  not  be 
alone,  there  may  be  turkey-buzzards  with  him." 

"If  there  be  a  score  of  vultures,"  said  Regi- 
nald, "  I  will  follow  him  without  fear — he  would 
not  lead  us  into  harm." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  was  the  guide's 
answer ;  and  again  the  party  resumed  their 
march  in  silence. 

They  soon  arrived  at  a  place  where  the  forest 
was  less  densely  wooded ;  some  of  the  larger 
trees  appeared  to  have  been  overthrown  by  a 
hurricane,  and  some  of  the  lesser  to  have  fallen 
by  the  axe.  Nekimi  trotted  forward,  as  if  mak- 
ing for  a  spot  that  he  recognised,  and  the  Ib- 
dian  recalled  him  with  the  same  cry  that  he 
had  before  used,  adding,  however,  another,  and 
a  shriller  sound. 

The  guide  shook  his  head,  and  muttered 
something  inaudibly  between  his  teeth,  loosen- 
ing at  the  same  time  the  huge  axe  in  his  belt, 
and  throwing  his  long  rifle  over  his  arm,  ready 
for  immediate  use. 

These  preparations  did  not  escape  the  obser- 
Tation  of  Reginald  ;  and  although  he  said  noth- 
ing, he  felt  more  uneasy  than  he  cared  to  own  ; 
for  it  struck  him  that  if  the  guide,  who  seemed 
to  have  so  high  an  opinion  of  War-Eagle,  was 
apprehensive  of  treachery  or  of  some  .unfore- 
seen danger,  there  was  less  ground  for  his  own 
confidence. 

Meantime  the  Indian  walked  composedly  for- 
ward until  he  reached  the  camp,* — a  pretty 
spot,  sheltered  on  the  windward  side  by  a  laurel 
thicket,  and  on  the  other  commanding  a  view  of 
the  open  glade,  and  of  a  small  stream  winding 
its  silent  course  towards  the  river  which  our 
party  had  so  lately  left. 

On  a  grassy  plot,  between  two  venerable 
trees,  the  embers  of  a  smouldering  fire  sent  up 
the  thin  blue  vapour  which  rises  from  the  burn- 
ing of  green  wood,  several  logs  of  which  were 
still  piled  for  fuel ;  while  sundry  bones  and 
feathers,  scattered  at  no  great  distance,  gave 
sufficient  evidence  of  recent  feasting. 

War-Eagle  glanced  hastily  around  his  camp  ; 
and  leaving  Nekimi  to  feed  at  liberty,  secured 
the  less  tractable  horse  ;  while  he  was  thus  cm- 
ployed,  the  guide  whispered  in  a  low  voice, 
"  There  are  three  or  four  Indians  here  !  I  trace 
their  marks  on  the  grass,  and  I  know  it  by  this 
fire ;  it  is  a  war  party — there  are  no  squaws 
here;  Master  Regi  lald,  keep  your  ears  and 
eyes  open,  but  show  no  distrust ;  if  he  offers  a 
pipe,  all  may  yet  be  right." 

Although  the  guide  said  this  so  distinctly  that 
Reginald  heard  every  syllable,  he  was  to  all  ap- 
pearance busily  engaged  in  throwing  some  dry 
sticks  on  the  fire,  and  easing  himself  of  the 
skins  and  the  venison  with  which  he  was  load- 
ed. The  Indian  now  took  from  a:  hollow  in  one 
of  the  old  trees  before-mentioned,  a  pipe,  the 
bowl  of  which  was  of  red  sandstone,  and  the 


*  Among  the  vrestern  hunters  any  resting-place  for  the 
night,  or  even  where  a  fire  has  been  made  for  a  mid-day 
halt,  though  it  may  be  by  one  individual,  is  commonly 
called  "  a  camp."  This  must  be  borne  in  mind  througb 
out  th«  following  tale. 


16 


1  HE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


stick  p&inted  and  ornamented  with  stained  por- 
cupine quills  ;  he  also  drew  out  a  leather  bag  of 
Kinnc-ktnck  ;*  and  having  filled  and  lighted  his 
pipe,  seated  himself  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  fire,  and  gravely  invited  Reginald  to  sit  on 
his  right,  and  the  guide  on  his  left.  As  soon  as 
they  were  seated,  War-Eagle  inhaled  a  large 
volume  of  smoke  ;  and  looking  reverently  up  to 
the  sky,  sent  forth  a  long  whiff,  as  an  offering  to 
the  Great  Spirit;  then  simply  saying,  "My 
brother  is  welcome,"  he  passed  the  pipe  to  Re- 
ginald, and  afterwards  to  Baptiste. 

For  some  time  they  smoked  in  silence  :  not 
a  sound  was  heard  but  the  crackling  of  the 
wood  on  the  fire,  and  the  occasional  chirrup  of 
a  robin  in  the  neighbouring  bushes  ;  this  silent 
system  not  suiting  Reginald's  ardent  tempera- 
ment, he  abruptly  addressed  the  Indian  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  Has  my  brother  come  far  from  his  peo- 
ple!" 

A  cloud  gathered  on  the  chief's  brow,  and 
the  guide  thought  that  a  storm  of  wrath  would 
be  excited  by  this  unlucky  question ;  but  the 
Indian  looking  steadily  upon  the  frank  open 
countenance  of  the  speaker,  replied  in  a  voice 
rather  melancholy  than  fierce,  "  War- Eagle  has 
few  people ;  the  bones  of  his  fathers  are  not 
far  r 

Our  hero  anxious  to  dismiss  a  subject  which 
seemed  painful  to  his  new  friend,  turned  the 
conversation  to  his  equipment,  and  observed, 
"  My  brother  walks  abroad  without  fear ;  he  is 
almost  without  arms." 

The  Indian  carelessly  resting  his  hand  upon 
his  war-club,  said  (speaking  rather  to  himself 
than  to  his  companions),  "It  has  tasted  blood  : 
ask  the  Dahcotahs  !" 

"  The  Dahcotahs  are  dogs,"  said  the  guide 
angrily.  "  Their  skins  are  red,  but  their  hearts 
aie  white  !" 

War-Eagle  turning  upon  him  a  penetrating 
look,  continued,  "  Grande-Hache  is  a  warrior  ; 
he  has  smoked,  has  feasted,  has  fought  among 
the  Lena-pe  •*  he  has  struck  more  than  one  Dah- 
cotah  chief.  But  the  Grande-Hache  cannot 
rest :  the  scalp  of  his  mother  hangs  in  the  lodge 
of  the  Assiniboins ;  t  her  spirit  is  unquiet  in  the 
dark  hunting-ground." 

The  guide  made  no  reply,  but  the  forced 
compression  of  his  lips,  and  the  muscular  con- 
traction that  passed  over  his  sinewy  frame, 
showed  how  deeply  he  cherished  that  vengeance 
which  the  Indian's  word  awakened. 

"  This  is,  then,"  said  our  hero  to  himself, 
"  the  cause  of  that  fierce  unextinguishable  hate 
which  Baptiste  has  always  borne  to  these 
Sioux  ;  I  cannot  wonder  at  it."  Reginald  con- 
tinued, however,  his  conversation  respecting 
his  new  friend's  equipment,  in  the  same  tone  : 
"  My  brother's  war-club  is  strong,  and  that  iron 
spike  in  its  head  is  sharp ;  but  the  rifle  kills 
Irom  far,  and  the  white  men  are  not  all  friends 
10  him." 


*  Kinne-kinek  is  a  mixture  made  by  the  Indians  from 
the  inner  bark  of  tbe  willow  pounded  small,  tobacco,  and 
the  dried  leaves  of  the  sumach:  the  flavour  of  this  com- 
position is  by  no  means  disagreeable  ;  the  word  itself  is 
Delaware,  but  the  mixture  is  in  common  use  among  many 
tribes. 

*The  Delawares  call  themselves  Lenni-Lenape, — "  the 
ancient  or  original  people." 

^Assiniboins — the  "stone  heaters" — a  powerful  and 
warlike  branch  of  the  great  Dahcotah  or  Sioui  nation. 


"  War-Eagle  has  ears  and  eyes ;  he  can  see 
snakes  in  the  grass,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"  Nay,  but  my  brother  is  careless,"  said  Regi- 
nald laughing ;  "  Grande-H&che,  as  you  call 
him,  and  I  are  two  men.  both  strong  and  arm- 
ed with  rifles  :  if  we  were  not  his  brothers,  the 
War-Eagle  would  be  in  danger." 

"  The  bad  Spirit  made  the  thick  water  and 
the  horses  too  strong  for  War-Eagle,"  said  the 
latter,  referring  to  the  morning's  accident,  "  but 
he  could  not  be  hurt  by  his  brothers  rifle." 

"  And  why  so  ■?"  demanded  Reginald. 

"  Because,"  said  the  Indian,  "  the  white  wai- 
rior  has  smoked,  has  taken  his  brother's  gift, 
and  the  Great  Spirit  has  written  on  his  face 
that  he  cannot  speak  lies." 

"  You  are  right,  my  brave  friend,"  said  Regi- 
nald, (not  a  little  gratified  by  the  untutored 
compliment;)  "but  if  you  fall  in  with  white 
men  who  carry  rifles,  and  who  de  speak  lies — 
how  fares  it  with  you  then  V 

"  War-Eagle  is  always  ready"  said  he,  in  the 
same  unmoved  tone  ;  "the  Grande- H&che  is  a 
great  warrior — my  brother  will  take  many 
scalps ;  yet  if  their  tongues  were  forked — if 
their  hearts  were  bad — both  would  die  where 
they  now  sit — they  have  neither  ears  nor  eyes 
— but  the  Lenape  is  a  chief,  they  are  as  safe 
here  as  in  the  great  white  village." 

Though  inwardly  nettled  at  this  taunt,  which 
he  felt  to  be  not  altogether  undeserved,  the 
guide  took  no  other  notice  of  it  than  to  strain 
to  the  utmost  those  organs  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing which  the  Redskin  had  held  so  cheap,  but 
in  vain  :  the  forest  around  them  seemed  wrapt 
in  solitude  and  silence ;  the  eyes  of  Reginald, 
however,  served  him  better  on  this  occasion. 
"  By  heaven,  the  Indian  speaks  truth,"  said  he ; 
"  I  see  them  plainly — one,  two,  three  !  and  we, 
Baptiste,  are  at  their  mercy." 

This  he  spoke  in  French,  and  the  gTiide  an- 
swered in  the  same  language  :  "  Do  you  see 
Indians,  Master  Reginald,  where  I  can  see 
naught  but  trees,  and  logs,  and  grass ;  if  it  is 
so — I  am  an  owl,  and  no  hunter !" 

"  Glance  your  eye,"  said  our  hero,  calmly,  to 
yon  old  fallen  log,  that  lies  fifty  or  sixty  yards 
to  your  right,  there  are  three  small  parallel  lines 
visible  there, — they  are  three  gun-barrels  ;  the 
sun  shone  on  them  a  minute  since,  and  their 
muzzles  are  directed  full  upon  us." 

"  It  is  true ;  your  eyes  are  younger  than 
mine,  I  suppose,"  said  the  guide,  apparently 
more  disconcerted  at  that  circumstance  than  at 
the  imminent  peril  of  their  situation.  He  add- 
ed, in  a  low,  determined  tone,  "  but  they  musj 
shoot  very  true,  if  they  wish  to  prevent  me  from 
taking  this  deep  and  deceitful  villain  with  mg 
on  the  long  journey." 

During  the  whole  of  this  conversation,  War- 
Eagle  sat  in  unmoved  silence,  occasionally  puf- 
fing out  a  whiff  from  the  fragrant  herb  in  his 
pipe.  Reginald  met  the  unexpected  dangej 
with  the  straightforward,  daring  courage  which 
was  the  characteristic  of  his  mind ;  Baptiste 
with  the  cool  resolution  which  was  the  result 
of  a  life  of  perils,  stratagems,  and  escapes. 

"  War-Eagle,"  said  the  former,  "  you  speak 

true ;  Grand-Hache  and  I  have  shut  our  eyes 

and  ears ;  but  they  are  now  open ;  I  see  your 

warriors." 

The  Indian  turned  his  searching  eye  full  upon 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


19 


the  speaker;  he  met  a  look  bold,  open,  fearless  | 
as  his  own.     "  WTiere  can  my  white  brother 
see  warriors  1"  he  inquired. 

"  Their  guns  are  across  yonder  log,"  said  Re- 
ginald ;  "  and  their  muzzles  are  pointed  here." 

'*  It  is  so,"  said  War-Eagle  ;  "  the  red  men 
are  on  the  war-path ;  they  seek  blood  ;  is  my 
white  brother  not  afraid  !" 

"  War-Eagle  is  a  chief,"  replied  the  young 
man;  "he  cannot  lie, — he  has  said  that  his 
white  brother  is  as  safe  as  in  the  wigwam  of 
his  father!" 

Again  the  Indian  bent  a  scrutinizing  look 
upon  the  countenance  of  the  speaker,  and  again 
.net  the  same  smile  of  fearless  confidence.  With 
more  emotion  than  he  had  yet  shown,  he  said, 
'  The  Great  Spirit  has  given  to  my  white  broth- 
er the  big  heart  of  a  Lenape  !" 

He  now  made  a  signal  to  his  ambuscade  to 
come  forth,  on  which  they  started  up  from  be- 
hind the  large  fallen  tree  which  had  hitherto 
screened  them,  and  advanced  slowly  towards 
the  camp.  They  were  three  in  number ;  two 
of  them  active  looking  men,  of  moderate  stat- 
ure, but  of  symmetrical  proportions  ;  the  third 
a  lad,  apparently  about  seventeen  years  old ; 
the  faces  of  the  two  former  were  painted  with 
black  stripes,  which  gave  them  an  appearance 
at  once  fierce  and  grotesque  ;  they  were  lightly 
clad  in  hunting  shirts,  leggins,  and  mocassins, 
ail  of  elk-skin,  and  each  carried  a  tomahawk, 
scalp-knife,  and  the  gun  before  mentioned  ;  the 
young  lad  carried  no  other  weapon  but  the  gun  ; 
his  hunting-shirt  was  fancifully  ornamented 
with  tassels  of  porcupine  quills,  and  was  fas- 
tened at  the  waist  by  a  belt  studded  with  party- 
coloured  beads ;  his  leggins  were  fringed,  and 
his  mocassins  were  also  braided  with  the  quills 
of  the  porcupine ;  in  figure  he  was  slight  and 
tall ;  as  he  drew  near,  Reginald  thought  his 
countenance  even  more  remarkable  than  that 
of  War-Eagle ;  indeed  its  beauty  would  have 
been  almost  effeminate,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
raven  blackness  of  the  hair,  and  the  piercing 
fire  of  the  dark  eyes.  The  three  came  forward 
in  silence,  the  lad  being  rather  in  advance  of 
the  others,  and  stood  before  the  War-Eagle. 

He  bade  them  in  hhs  own  language  to  be 
seated,  and  smoke  the  pipe  with  the  white  men. 
They  did  so,  with  the  exception  of  the  lad,  who 
not  being  yet  a  warrior,  passed  it  untouched  ; 
and  when  it  had  gone  round,  War-Eagle  har- 
angued his  party ;  as  he  narrated  the  events  of 
the  morning,  Reginald  was  struck  by  the  deep 
and  flexible  modulation  of  his  voice ;  and  al- 
though he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  the 
language,  fancied  that  he  knew  when  the  chief 
related  his  immersion  and  subsequent  preserva- 
tion by  the  white  man's  knife. 

At  this  portion  of  the  tale,  the  Indian  youth 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  emotion  ;  his 
glistening  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  speaker, 
and  every  feature  of  his  intelligent  countenance 
Deamed  with  affectionate  interest :  as  War- 
Eagle  described  his  being  struck  under  water, 
etunned  by  a  blow  from  a  horse's  foot,  and  that 
the  thick  water  covered  him,  a  hurried  excla- 
mation escaped  from  the  boy's  lips  ;  and  when 
his  chief  related  how  the  white  warrior  had 
dived,  had  cut  the  cord  in  which  he  was  entan- 
gled, and  had  brought  him  again  to  the  air  and 
to  life,  the  youth,  no  longer  able  to  control  his 


feelings,  threw  himself  mtc  Reginald's  arms, 
exclaiming  in  good  English, 

"The  Great  Spirit  reward  the  white  warri- 
or :  he  has  given  me  back  my  chief — my  liroth- 
er !" 

Our  hero  was  no  less  astonished  than  was 
the  guide,  at  such  uncontrolled  emotion  m  a 
youth  of  a  nation  so  early  taught  to  conceal 
their  feelings  ;  nor  were  they  less  surprised  at 
the  clearness  and  purity  of  accent  with  which 
he  expressed  himself  in  English. 

"  I  only  did,  my  boy,"  said  Reginald,  kindly, 
"  what  you  would  have  done  had  you  been  in 
my  place." 

"  You  are  a  great  warrior,"  said  the  youth, 
running  hi«  eye  over  the  powerful  frame  beside 
him :  "  Wingenund  would  have  gone  into  the 
strong  river,  and  would  have  died  with  the 
War-Eagle." 

"  Is  Wingenund,  then,  your  name,  my  brave 
boyi" 

"  It  was  my  forefather's  name,"  said  the 
youth,  proudly.  "  I  have  yet  no  name :  but 
War-Eagle  says  I  may  have  one  soon,  and  I 
will  have  no  other." 

"  I  feel  sure  you  well  deserve  your  forefa- 
ther's name,"  said  Reginald.  "What  does  it 
mean  in  my  language  1" 

"  It  means  '  The  Beloved  V  " 

"The  youth  speaks  true,"  murmured  the 
guide  (who,  though  busily  engaged  in  rounding 
off  a  bullet  with  his  knife,  lost  not  a  word  or 
gesture  that  passed),  "  he  speaks  only  truth  ;  I 
knew  his  forefather  well :  a  braver  and  better 
heart  never  dwelt  among  th6  Lenape." 

The  boy  looked  gratefully  at  the  weather- 
beaten  hunter  ;  and  as  he  cast  his  eyes  down 
in  silence,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  say 
whether  pleasure,  pride,  or  pain,  predominated 
in  their  expression. 

"  Tell  me,"  resumed  Reginald,  "  haw  com« 
you  to  speak  English  like  a  white  ra-an  V 

"The  good  father  and  Olitipa  taught  me." 

Reginald  looked  at  the  guide  for  an  explana- 
tion ;  that  worthy  personage  shook  his  head, 
saying,  "The  boy  talks  riddles;  but  they  are 
not  hard  to  guess.  The  good-father  must  be 
some  missionary,  or  priest ;  and  Olitipa  would 
in  their  tongue  signify  '  pretty  prairie-fowl ;'  so 
it  is  probably  the  name  of  a  Delaware  woman — 
perhaps  his  sister." 

"  Kehella  la — so  it  is,"  said  the  boy :  "  Oli- 
tipa is  in  your  tongue  '  pretty  prairie-bird,'  and 
she  is  my  sister." 

"Where  is  Prairie-bird  1"  inquired  Reginald, 
amused  by  the  youth's  naivete.. 

"  Far,  far  away,  beyond  the  great  river  !  But 
we  will  go  back  soon; — shall  we  not?"  he  in- 
quired, looking  up  timidly  at  War-Eagle; 

" Pecliu  lenitti,"*  answered  the  chief;  and 
leaning  towards  the  youth,  he  added  some 
words  in  a  whisper,  which  made  him  start  up 
to  obey  the  orders  he  had  received. 

Reginald  was  not  long  left  in  ignorance  of 
their  nature,  as  in  a  few  minutes  the  active  lad 
had  refreshed  the  fire,  and  was  busy  in  broiling 
seme  venison  steaks,  which,  after  the  exercise 
of  the  morning,  sent  up  a  steam  far  from  un- 
pleasant to^the  senses  of  any  of  those  present. 

"  Master  Reginald,"  said  the  guide,   "  that 


*  "  By-and-by,"  or  "  soon" 


20 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


«illy  perroquet  of  yours,  Gustave  Perrot,  is  al- 
ways telling  fine  stories  of  what  he  has  seen  in 
Europe,  and  talking  of  the  scent  of  roses,  and 
<ne  sweet  sounds  of  music,  till  the  girls  in  the 
clearins  think  he's  a  book-author  and  a  poet ; 
did  you  ever  smell  any  scent,  or  hear  any  music, 
sweeter  than  comes  from  the  hissing  and  friz- 
zing of  those  slices  of  fat  venison  after  a  six 
hours'  hunt  in  the  woods ^" 

'•Perhaps  not,"  said  Reginald,  laughing;  "but 
wc  are  only  hunters,  and,  Monsieur  Perrot  is  a 
man  of  taste." 

"  Whom  have  we  here  1"  grumbled  the  guide, 
as  an  Indian  appeared  in  the  distance  "  Friend 
War-Eagle,  is  this  another  of  your  bandl" 

"He  is,"  replied  the  chief:  "all  are  now 
nere." 

The  new-comer  was  a  powerful,  athletic- 
looking  man  ;  his  face  was  painted  one  half 
black,  and  the  other  half  striped  with  bars  of 
red ;  the  sleeves  of  his  hunting-shirt  were  so 
short  and  loose,  that  his  naked  arms  were  visi- 
ble, one  of  which  was  tatooed  in  the  form  of  a 
lizard,  and  on  the  other  he  wore  an  armlet  of 
brass  ;  his  leggins  and  mocassins  were  soiled 
and  torn,  and  the  perspiration  streaming  from 
his  matted  hair  shewed  that  he  had  travelled 
both  far  and  fast.  He  was,  like  the  rest,  equip- 
ped with  rifle,  tomahawk,  and  scalp-knife  ;  his 
countenance,  as  far  as  it  could  be  distinguished 
through  its  disguise  of  paint,  was  expressive  of 
cunning  and  ferocity.  Though  probably  much 
surprised  at  seeing  two  white  men  sitting  thus 
amicably  with  his  chief,  he  took  little  notice  of 
them,  or  of  the  rest  of  the  party ;  but  without 
asking,  or  being  asked,  any  questions,  seated 
himself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire,  lighted 
his  pipe,  and  smoked. 

"  Master  Reginald,"  said  the  guide,  in  French, 
"  I  do  not  like  that  fellow.  I  know  not  how  he 
comes  to  be  with  our  friend  here,  for  he  belongs 
to  another  tribe  :  I  have  seen  him  before." 

Meantime,  the  industrious  lad  had  broiled  his 
venison  steaks,  and  having  gathered  some  broad 
leaves,  which  served  on  this  occasion  for  plates, 
he  brought  the  first  slice  to  Reginald,  the  se- 
cond to  Baptiste,  the  next  to  War- Eagle,  and 
so  on,  until  he  went  through  the  party  ;  after 
which,  without  tasting  anything  himself,  he 
took  his  station  close  to  his  chief  and  his  new 
friend.  During  the  meal,  the  Indian  last  ar- 
rived talked  much  in  a  suppressed  voice  to  the 
one  next  to  him,  and  seemed  studiously  to 
avert  his  eyes  from  his  chief  and  the  two  white 
men. 

"  Tarhe,"  said  War-Eagle,  addressing  him, 
"  is  there  not  tassmanane*  for  the  stranger  1  he 
is  my  brother,  and  his  path  has  been  long." 

Tarhe  went  to  his  "  cache,"  a  spot  not  many 
yards  "distant,  and  taking  out  two  or  three  small 
cakes,  brought  them  round  behind  his  chief,  and 
offered  one  to  our  hero,  who  was  in  the  act  of 
receiving  it,  when  the  miscreant,  drawing  the 
knife  from  his  girdle,  aimed  a  blow  at  the  back 
of  the  unsuspecting  Reginald. 

Nothing  could  have  saved  him  from  instant 
death,  had  not  the  gallant  boy  thrown  himself 
between  the  savage  and  his  victim.  The  knife 
went  through  his  arm ;  and  so  deadly  was  the 


*  Tassmanan6  :  a  kind  of  bread  made  by  the  Delawares 
for  long  journeys.  It  is  made  of  maize,  powdered  very 
fine,  ancJ  sweetened  with  maple  sugar. 


force  by  which  it  was  guided,  that  it  still  de- 
scended, and  inflicted  a  slight  scratch  on  Regi- 
nald's shoulder. 

War-Eagle  sprang  like  a  tiger  from  the 
ground,  and  with  one  blow  of  his  tremendous 
war-club  dashed  the  ruffian  to  the  earth ;  then 
turning  suddenly  his  angry  glance  upon  the  two 
other  Indians,  he  asked  if  they  had  any  ii3rt  in 
Tarhe's  plot.  Neither  had  stirred  from  his 
seat,  and  both  declared  they  had  known  nothing 
of  his  intention.  It  was  well  for  thern  that  the 
chief  believed  them,  for  this  act  of  y'Cc  treachery 
had  aroused  all  the  slumbering  fire  within  him, 
and  the  veins  started  like  blue  cords  upon  his 
temples. 

Reginald's  first  impulse,  when  he  jumped 
upon  his  feet,  was  to  hasten  to  the  wounded 
youth,  whose  features  were  now  lighted  up  by 
a  smile  of  happiness.  "  Tell  me,  my  brave 
generous  boy,  are  you  much  hurtl" 

"  No,"  said  he  :  "I  should  have  been  hurt 
if  the  War-Eagle's  camp  had  been  stained  with 
the  blood  of  his  white  brother." 

The  sturdy  guide  himself  could  not  repress 
his  admiration  of  this  gallant  boy's  conduct, 
who  now  stood  looking  intently  upon  War- 
Eagle,  his  features  animated  by  excitement 
and  by  pride,  and  the  knife  still  fixed  up  to  the 
very  handle  in  his  arm. 

"  War-Eagle,"  said  Baptiste,  "  the  Lenape 
are  men, — their  boys  are  warriors  :  that  dog  is 
not  a  Lenape,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  pros- 
trate body  of  Tarhe. 

"  Tah-Delamatlenos,"*  said  the  chief  indig- 
nantly. The  youth  now  moving  a  step  forward, 
came  before  his  chief  with  an  air  of  modest 
dignity,  and  slowly  drew  the  reeking  knife  from 
his  arm,  while  a  stream  of  blood  gushed  from 
the  wound  ;  not  a  muscle  of  his  frame  trembled, 
not  a  feature  varied  its  expression,  as  he  said 
in  a  voice  of  musical  gentleness,  "  War-Eagle, 
will  Wingenund  allow  his  grandson  now  to  bear 
his  name?' 

"  Wi7igenund  /"  said  War-Eagle,  looking  upon 
him  with  affectionate  pride,  "  the  chiefs  at  the 
Council-fire  shall  know  that  the  blood  of  the 
well-beloved  still  flows  in  a  young  warrior's 
veins." 

'•  My  good  friend,"  said  the  guide  to  the  chief, 
"  you  have  no  time  to  lose,  the  lad  will  bleed  to 
death  !" 

Reginald  sprang  forward,  and  closing  as  he 
best  could  the  gaping  wound,  bound  his  hand- 
kerchief tightly  over  it. 

There  was,  indeed,  no  time  to  be  lost ;  for  the 
blood  had  flowed  more  freely  than  his  youthful 
frame  could  endure.  A  painful  dizziness  came 
over  him ;  and  murmuring  almost  inaudibly 
"  The  White  Warrior  is  safe,  and  Wingenund 
is  happy,"  he  fell  senseless  into  Reginald's  arms. 


*  "Tah-Delamattenos," — "  No,  he  is  a  Wyandot"  Tbia 
tribe  occupied  the  region  to  the  north  of  Ohio,  and  the 
north-west  of  Pennsylvania  ;  they  spol?e  a  dialect  of  the 
Iroquois,  and  are  better  known  by  tlie  name  of  Huron^ ; 
they  sometimes  hunted  with  the  Delaware,  by  wliom 
they  were  designated  as  above. 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


21 


CHAPTER  VII. 

■Containing  some  particulars  of  the  history  of  the  two 
Delawares  and  of  Baptiste.  The  latter  returns  with 
Re^nnald  to  Mooshanne,  the  residence  of  Colonel 
!3mndon. 

"  I  FEAR  he  will  die  !"  said  Reginald  in  a  tone 
of  the  deepest  grief,  as  he  stooped  over  the  in- 
animate form  of  the  wounded  boy. 

"Die  !"  said  the  War-Eagle,  almost  fiercely, 
'yes,  he  will  die  !  but  not  by  the  bite  of  yonder 
serpent,"  pointing  to  the  body  of  the  Wyandot ; 
"  he  will  die  when  the  Great  Spirit  orders  it ;  but 
before  he  dies,  the  murderers  of  his  father  shall 
hear  his  war-whoop !  His  tomahawk  shall  be 
red  in  their  blood  ;  their  scalps  shall  hang  at  his 
belt !  then  Wingenund  may  go  to  his  ancient 
people  in  the  happy  hunting  fields  !" 

"My  brother,"  said  Reginald  earnestly,  and 
still  supporting  the  insensible  frame  of  Winge- 
nund, "  do  not  lead  this  youth  to  shed  the  white 
man's  blood  !  He  cannot  call  back  those  who 
are  gone !  We  have  a  book  which  the  Great 
Spirit  gave  to  our  forefathers  ;  it  speaks  His 
own  words,  and  He  tells  us,  'Vengeance  is 
mine ;'  and  He  also  tells  us  that  if  we  would 
please  Him,  we  must  forgive  those  who  have 
injured  us  ;  His  arrows  are  very  sharp ;  His 
anger  is  fierce  ;  His  justice  is  sure.  Leave  Him 
to  punish  those  bad  men,  and  teach  the  '  well- 
beloved'  to  be  the  white  man's  friend." 

For  a  minute  the  chief  seemed  buried  in  deep 
thought ;  then  suddenly  starting  from  his  reve- 
rie, he  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone  to  one 
of  his  men,  who  instantly  moved  away,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  forest. 

War-Eagle  then  replied  in  a  tone  rather  of 
melancholy  than  of  reproof,  "  The  Great  Spirit 
never  speaks  to  the  red  man  in  wards  :  if  He  is 
fingry,  He  thunders  ;  if  He  is  pleased,  He  sends 
rain  and  sunshine,  to  make  the  corn  and  fruits 
to  grow,  and  sweet  grass  to  fatten  the  deer ;  my 
brother  says  the  Great  Spirit  has  spoken  plainly 
to  the  white  man  in  words,  and  that  those 
words  are  painted  in  a  book.  War-Eagle  be- 
lieves it,  because  my  brother's  tongue  is  not 
forked ;  but  he  would  ask, — Did  those  white 
men,  who  came  in  the  night  like  wolves  to  the 
couch  of  the  fawn,  who  murdered  the  father, 
the  kindred,  the  little  sisters  of  Wingenund, — 
did  those  men  hear  the  Great  Spirit's  words  !" 
"  My  brother,"  said  Reginald,  "  there  are 
among  white  men  many  wolves  and  serpents  : 
men  whose  hands  are  bloody,  and  their  tongue 
forked.  The  Great  Spirit  does  not  forbid  to 
punish,  or  even  to  kill  such  men,  in  defence  of 
ourselves,  our  wigwams,  our  children,  or  our 
friend ;  He  is  not  angry  with  War-Eagle  for 
striking  down  that  Huron  whose  hand  was 
raised  to  shed  his  brother's  blood  ;  but  when 
the  grass  of  many  seasons  has  grown  over  the 
graves  of  those  who  were  injured,  then  the 
Great  Spirit  commands  man  to  let  his  anger 
sleep,  to  bury  his  hatchet,  and  to  forgive." 

"It  may  be  so,"  said  War-Eagle  gravely, 
"  the  Good  Father  in  the  Western  Hunting- 
ground  has  said  the  same;  Olitipa,  whose  voice 
is  like  the  mocking-bird,  and  who  speaks  only 
truth,  she  has  spoken  the  same  ;  but  it  is  very 
dark,  War-Eagle  cannot  see  it." 

"Who  is  the  Prairie-bird  1"  inquired  Regi- 
nald, whose  curiosity  had  twice  been  excited  by 
the  mention  of  this  extraordinary  name. 


Before  the  chief  could  reply,  the  Indian,  whom 
he  had  sent,  returned  with  a  mess  made  from 
several  leaves,  herbs,  and  roots,  which  he  had 
bruised  and  reduced  to  a  kind  of  glutinous  pulp  ; 
War-Eagle  now  took  off  the  bandage  from  the 
youth's  arm ;  after  examining  it  carefully,  and 
applying  some  of  the  above  mixtures  to  both  the 
orifices  of  the  wound,  he  bound  it  again,  more 
strongly  and  skilfully  than  before  ;  then  taking 
him  in  his  arms,  as  if  he  had  been  a  little  child, 
he  carried  him  down  to  the  rivulet ;  and  by  dint 
of  bathing  his  temples  and  rubbing  forcibly  his 
hands  and  feet,  soon  restored  the  suspended 
animation. 

When  he  was  recovered  so  far  as  to  be  able 
to  speak,  Reginald,  sitting  down  by  him,  said  a 
thousand  kind  things  to  him,  such  as  were 
prompted  by  the  gratitude  of  a  generous  heart. 
While  they  were  conversing,  the  guide  drew 
near  to  the  chief;  and  pointing  to  the  body  of 
the  Wyandot,  which  still  lay  where  he  had  fall- 
en, said,  "  He  is  surely  dead  !" 

"  He  is  so,"  replied  the  other  gravely,  "  when 
War-Eagle  is  angry  he  does  not  strike  his  ene- 
my's forehead  twice." 

The  guide  now  turned  over  the  body ;  and 
seeing  that  the  iron  point  of  the  war-club  had 
entered  just  above  the  eyes,  and  had  sunk  deep 
into  the  brain,  he  knew  that  instant  death  must 
have  ensued.  The  chief  calhng  the  two  In- 
dians, desired  them  to  bury  the  body  where  it 
would  be  safe  from  wolves  and  buzzards.  "  But," 
he  added  sternly,  "  let  not  the  spot  be  marked 
for  his  kindred :  he  died  like  a  dog,  and  none 
should  lament  him." 

As  they  turned  away  to  execute  these  orders, 
the  guide  observed  to  the  chief  "  that  Huron 
has  not  been  long  with  the  War-Eagle." 

"True, — but  how  does  the  Grand-Hache 
know  it  1" 

"  His  eye  has  been  on  him  more  than  once  ; 
Grande-Hache  sees,  but  he  can  hold  his  tongue." 
"  Grande-Hiche  is  a  warrior,"  replied  the 
chief:  "  he  has  seen  many  things  ;  he  has  talk- 
ed with  the  wise  men  ;  does  he  know  why  yon 
Huron  wished  to  kill  the  young  white  brave  V 

"  He  does,"  said  Grande-Hache  ;  but  as  he 
did  not  of  himself  state  what  he  knew,  it  would 
have  been  contrary  to  the  usages  of  Indian 
courtesy  to  question  him  farther. 

Baptiste  now  diverting  the  conversation  to 
another  topic,  said,  "  It  is  singular  that  War- 
Eagle,  on  a  war-path  far  from  his  village,  should 
have  only  strangers  with  him,  excepting  the 
youth  who  is  wounded  !" 

"  What  means  the  Grand-Hache  1" 
"  He  means,"  replied  the  guide,  "  that  the 
other  two,  now  gone  to  bury  the  Huron,  are 
Southern  men* — they  are  not  Lenape." 

"  Grande-Hache  has  ears  and  eyes  open- 
how  can  he  know  that  he  speaks  truth!"  said 
the  chief 

"  Because  he  has  eyes  and  ears ;"  replied  the 
guide.  "  Does  War-Eagle  think  that  Grande- 
Hache  has  hunted  twenty  years  among  the  red 
nations,  and  knows  not  yet  the  mocassin  and 


*  Southern-men — in  the  Delaware  language  Chaoua- 
no  or  Shawano — ftnown  to  the  Americans  as  "  Shaw 
nees."  This  powerful  tribe  were  generally  in  alliance 
with  the  Lenape,  and  inhabited  the  counDy  on  their  west- 
ern frontier.  About  the  time  of  our  tale,  they  were  very 
numerous  on  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum  and  of  the 
Wabash  river. 


S'J 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


*ongue  of  a  Shawanonl  I  knew  them  at  a 
glance,"  he  added,  with  a  shrewd  smile,  "as 
well  as  I  knew  the  War-Eagle  in  the  batteau, 
though  both  he  and  they  have  put  on  their  faces 
the  paint  of  the  Mcngwe.'"* 

"  Grande-Hache  speaks  truth,"  replied  the 
chief,  dryly,  without  showing  the  surprise  and 
annoyance  that  he  felt  at  the  penetration  of  the 
guide.  "  The  men  are  Shawanons,  they  h«nt 
with  the  Lenape,  beyond  the  great  river — they 
are  brothers." 

So  saying,  he  brok^offthe  conversation,  and 
turning  towards  Wingenund,  saw  that  he  was 
talkmg  as  earnestly  and  freely  with  Reginald  as 
if  they  had  been  long  intimate ;  while  he  con- 
templated this  friendly  intercourse  with  a  smile 
of  satisfaction,  the  guide  felt  himself  called 
upon  to  remind  his  companion  that  the  sun  was 
getting  low,  that  they  had  yet  some  miles  to 
walk,  and  that  the  colonel  would  be  anxious 
and  impatient. 

"  True,"  said  Reginald,  springing  up,  "  I  must 
take  leave  of  my  brother,  and  of  my  young  pre- 
server ;  but  we  shall  meet  again  ;  we  will  hunt 
together,  and  be  friends." 

"  Let  it  be  so,"  said  the  lad,  with  an  ardour 
which  he  cared  not  to  conceal ;  "  and  Winge- 
nund will  tell  Prairie-Bird  that  the  white  warrior 
who  drew  War-Eagle  from  the  deep  water,  will 
come  to  see  her,  and  she  will  thank  him." 

While  the  boy  was  speaking,  the  chief  turned 
away,  and  busied  himself  in  fastening  a  thong- 
halter  firmly  to  the  head  of  Nekimi,  which  he 
again  led  to  his  new  master. 

Reginald  now  undid  from  his  waist  the  silver 
buckled  belt  with  the  couteau-de-chasse  which 
it  supported,  and  buckling  it  round  the  youth, 
he  said,  "  Wingenund  must  wear  this,  and  must 
not  forget  his  white  friend." 

The  boy's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure,  as  he 
received  this  gift ;  but  he  was  still  too  weak  to 
stand,  and  he  only  murmured,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Wingenund  will  not  forget." 

The  chief  now  taking  the  guide  aside,  said  to 
him,  in  his  own  language,  "  How  is  my  white 
brother  called?" 

"I  call  him  '  Master  Reginald.' "t 

.A.fter  one  or  two  ludicrous  attempts  at  an  imi- 
tation, War-Eagle  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  It 
is  not  good— may  his  Lenape  friend  call  him 
'Netis.'" 

As  soon  as  Reginald  was  informed  of  what 
had  passed,  and  of  the  meaning  of  his  new 
name,  he  accepted  it  with  pleasure,  and  Winge- 
nund repeated  it  again  and  again  as  our  hero 
bid  him  farewell. 

War-Eagle  insisted  upon  accompanying  him, 
and  leading  Nekimi  through  the  forest,  until 
they  reached  the  broad  wheel  track  which  pass- 
ed Colonel  Brandon's  house,  and  thence  led 
through  other  clearings  to  the  village  of  Mari- 
etta. As  they  went  along,  Reginald  desired 
Baptiste  in  a  whisper  to  talk  with  the  chief  and 
endeavoured  to  draw  from  him,  what  article  of 
dress,  ornament,  or  use,  he  would  most  value, 

*  Mengwe,  or  Mingoes, — the  Delaware  name  for  those 
Indians  who  resided  chiefly  in  the  northern  States  of  the 
Union,  and  wlio  are  better  linown  as  the  "  Iroquois." 

t  "Master  Reginald,"  might  well  puzzle  the  chief,  as 
tliere  is  no  letter  R  in  the  Delaware  language,  though 
some  of  them  contrive  to  pronounce  it.     '• 

"Netis"  signifies  in  their  tongue,  "a  trusted  friend," 
'one  to  whom  all  secrets  are  conlided." 


as  he  was  anxious  to  make  his  Indian  brother 
a  present ;  and  the  guide,  by  skilfully  manoeu 
vnng  his  conversation,  soon  learned  that  War 
Eagle  had,  on  this  last  excursion,  lost  his  rifle, 
and  that  he  was  also  short  of  ainmunition. 
They  now  emerged  from  the  forest  upon  the 
great  road,  if  it  might  be  so  called,  leading  to 
Marietta ;  and  the  Indian  putting  the  halter  of 
Nekimi  into  Reginald's  hand,  said  that  he  would 
return  to  his  camp.  Our  hero,  taking  him  by 
the  hand,  said,  "Netis  wishes  to  see  his  brother 
at  this  spot  to-morrow  at  noon." 

"  War-Eagle  will  come,"  was  the  brief  reply ; 
and  shaking  both  the  whitemen  cordially  by 
the  hand,  he  turned  and  disappeared  among  the 
trees. 

Reginald  and  the  guide  were  within  a  few 
miles  of  Colonel  Brandon's  house ;  but  they 
could  not  proceed  very  fast,  owing  to  the  evi- 
dent reluctance  shown  by  Nekimi  to  follow  his 
new  master  ;  he  neighed,  snorted,  jumped,  and 
played  all  manner  of  pranks  in  his  endeavour  to 
get  loose  ;  but  this  War-Eagle  had  foreseen, 
and  the  tough  halter  of  undressed  hide  was  well 
enough  secured  to  defy  all  his  efforts  at  escape. 

"  This  has  been  a  strange  day  of  adventures, 
Baptiste,"  said  Reginald  ;  "  it  has  been  to  me 
one  of  the  pleasantest  of  my  life  !" 

"  Why,  Master  Reginald,  it  has  been  a  day  of 
events,  such  as  they  are  ;  you  have  been  twice 
at  the  outside  edge  of  t'other  world,  with  water 
and  cold  iron." 

"  Oh,  there  was  not  much  harm  in  the  water," 
said  Reginald,  laughing ,  "  had  it  not  been  for 
the  knock  which  one  of  the  horses  gave  me  oa 
the  head  ;  but  that  villanous  attempt  of  the  Hu- 
ron makes  me  shudder  ; — to  offer  a  man  food, 
and  stab  him  while  he  is  taking  it !  I  thought 
such  a  thing  was  unknown  in  Indian  history," 

"  It  is,  almost,"  said  the  guide.  "  But  a  Hu- 
ron— and  a  Dacotah  !"  he  added,  bitterly, — 
"  would  murder  a  brother  to  gratify  revenge." 

"  But  I  had  never  injured  him,  Baptiste." 

"  His  memory  is  better  than  yours.  Master 
Reginald.  He  and  his  brother  were  two  of  the 
leading  warriors  in  that  unfortunate  affair 
where  St.  Clair  was  beat  by  the  Ingians,  upon 
the  north  fork  of  the  Miami.  I  was  there,  too, 
and  the  '  Doctor's  '  pills  did  some  sarvice — but 
not  much  to  signify,  neither.  Colonel  Brandon 
did  all  that  a  man  could  do,  but,  at  last,  he  was 
forced  back.  Well,  that  Tarhe  and  his  brother, 
first  in  the  pursuit,  killed  two  of  our  poor  fel 
lows,  and  were  scalping  'em,  when  the  Colonel 
called  out  to  'em,  and  fired.  He  killed  Tarhe's 
brother  dead.  I  see'd  it  all ;  and  I  took  a  long 
squint  with  the  Doctor  at  Tarhe,  which  only 
lamed  his  arm  a  bit ;  for,  you  see.  Master  Regi- 
nald, I  was  a  long  ways  off;  and  a  chap  don't 
shoot  quite  so  fine  when  he's  a  retreatin'  double 
quick,  vvith  a  few  hundred  Redskins  yellin'  in 
his  rear.  However,  that  Tarhe  has  been  more 
than  once  down  at  Marietta,  and  round  the 
neighbours'  clearins ;  and  he  knowed  you,  Mas- 
ter Reginald,  just  as  well  as  a  Kentucky  hog 
knows  an  acorn." 

"  Now  I  understand  it,  so  far,  Baptiste.    But 
if  the  fellow  wanted  to  take  my  life,  why  did 
he  not  hide  in  the  laurel-thicket,  and  shoot  me 
as  I  passed  ]     Why  did  he  make  the  attempt  ' 
where  my  death  was  sure  to  be  revenged  1" 
"Now,  Master  Reginald,  you    are  asking  » 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


93 


p«or  ignorant  crittur, — who  knows  nought  but 
a  Httle  huntin',  and,  may  be,  knows  a  beaver- 
skin  from  a  buffalo-hide, — all  the  ins  and  outs 
of  a  red  Ingran's  crooked  mind !  May  be,  he 
wanted  to  force  War-Eagle  into  shedding 
white-man's  blood.  I  saw  that  one  of  those 
Shawanons  was  up  to  his  game  ;  and  if  a  gen- 
eral skrimmage  had  come,  they'd  have  tried  to 
do  for  me.  Or,  perhaps,  when  he  found  his 
knife  so  convenient  to  the  back  of  your  neck, 
he  couldn't  lose  the  chance,  for  the  bad  spirit 
had  got  hold  of  him." 

''  By  heavens !"  cried  Reginald,  '•  I  never  can 
sufficiently  admire  the  quickness,  and  the  heroic 
courage  of  that  boy,  Wingenund !  Did  you 
see,  Baptiste,  how  he  drew  that  great  knife 
slowly  out  of  his  wounded  arm;  and  how  all 
the  tiHsc  he  smiled  upon  War-Eagle,  as  if  to 
show  him  that  he  despised  the  pain  V 

"  He  is  a  brave  youth,"  said  the  guide.  "  I 
know  the  stock  he  comes  from  :  if  he  were  a 
coward,  the  grisly  bear  might  breed  sheep'" 

"  Pray  tell  me  something  of  his  parents,  and 
of  his  story.     Is  he  related  to  War-Eagle  1" 

"  He  is,"  said  the  guide.  "  They  are  the 
children  of  two  brothers.  War-Eagle  of  the 
eldest ;  Wingenund  of  the  youngest." 

"Are  these  two  brothers  alive,  Baptiste  1" 

"No:  both  were  murdered  by  the  white 
men,  in  time  of  peace,  without  provocation. 
There  was  a  ^third  brother,  who,  happening  to 
be  absent  from  the  village  on  a  hunt,  escaped. 
He  has  now  gone  to  the  far- west,  hpyor.d  ths 
great  river.  Both  the  War-Eagle  and  the  boy 
are  called  his  sons ;  and  the  latter,  as  he  told 
us  to-day,  lives  in  his  lodge." 

"  Then  all  these  three  brothers  were  the  chil- 
dren of  Wingenund  1" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  who  was  he  1" 

"  One  of  the  old*  Lenape  : — first  in  council 
and  foremost  in  the  fight!  I  remember  him 
well  when  I  was  a  boy,"  said  the  guide,  warm- 
ing with  his  subject.  "  He  taught  me  to  fol- 
low a  trail,  and  to  travel  in  the  woods,  with  no 
other  guide  than  the  wind,  the  stars,  and  the 
bark  of  the  trees ;  and  before  I  was  as  old  as 
that  boy,  his  grandson,  he  lent  me  his  rifle  to 
shoot  the  first  Dacotah  as  ever  I  killed." 

"  What  was  the  party,  Baptiste  I"  said  Regi- 
nald (anxious  to  keep  the  guide  from  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Dacotahs),  "  what  party  was  it  that 
committed  the  atrocious  murder  upon  the  In- 
dians in  time  of  peace  1" 

"  Why,  Master  Reginald,  though  you  were 
but  a  youngster,  don't  you  remember  hearing 
that  twelve  or  fourteen  years  ago,  a  party  of 
white  men,  led  by  Williamson,  Harvey,  and 
some  other  rough  chaps  from  the  Kentucky 
side,  fell  upon  a  village  of  friendly  Indians  on 
the  hanks  of  Tuscarawas  river,  and  murdered 
all  they  found,  man,  woman,  and  child  1  Some 
of  these  poor  Redskins  had  been  made  Chris- 
tians, and  were  called  Moravians ;  and  their 
village,  as  was  destroyed,  was  called  by  some 
outlandish  name,  too  long  by  half  for  me  to 
B|ieak  or  to  remember."  They  had  given  over 
their  own  nai'ral  life  of  Smoking,  burning,  and 
fighting,  and  did  nothing  but  plant,  and  sow, 
and  pray  !  And,  after  all,  that's  the  way  they 
was  served,  Master  Reginald." 


*The  villace  w.is  ealletl  Gnaden-Iiutten — "tents,"  or 
'  e&bins  of  mace." 


•'  Horrible  and  disgraceful  crueity !"  said  the 
young  man  :  and  rather  thinking  aloud,  than 
addressing  his  companion,  he  added,  "  It  is  no 
wonder  that  the  Indians  receive  so  unwillingly 
Christian  precepts,  when  they  have  such  exam- 
ples of  Christian  practice.  I  am  not  surprised 
that  War-Eagle  finds  it  hard  to  forgive  suck  in- 
juries." 

"  And  yet  you  are  surprised.  Master  Regi- 
nald," said  the  guide,  in  a  deep  voice,  almost 
hoarse  from  repressed  emotion,  "  that  /  .^o  not 
forgive  the  Dacotah  1  Did  he  not  burn  the  log 
hut  where  I  was  born  and  raised  ]  Did  he  not 
murder  those  who  gave  me  birth  1  Did  he  not 
drive  me  out,  a  child,  into  the  woods,  to  live  by 
berries,  or  wild  fruits,  or  what  I  could  find  or 
kill  1  Is  not  my  father's  scalp  (not  half  reven- 
ged!) now  hanging  before  a  Dacotah  lodge! 
Oh  !  let  me  come  but  within  rifle  lange  of  the 
Throat-cutter,*  and  if  he  comes  off  with  a  whole 
skin,  I  zcill  forgive  him  !" 

Our  hero,  seeing  that  farther  discussion  would 
only  increase  an  excitement  which  already  mas- 
tered his  companion's  self-control,  said  to  him 
kindly,  "  Well,  Baptiste,  it  must  be  owned  that 
you  have  received  from  these  people  deep,  irre- 
parable wrong  !  You  are  a  man,  and  would 
not  pay  them  in  their  own  base  coin,  by  kiUing 
one  of  their  squaws  or  children  :  but  if  it  is  ev- 
er your  fortune  to  meet  them  in  a  lair  stand-up 
fight,  when  I  am  with  you,  then  you  shall  see 
that  I  can  stand  by  a  friend,  and  sha.  e  in  his 
just  feelings  of  resentment." 

"  I  know  it — I  know  it,  Master  Reginald,'' 
said  the  guide,  grasping  the  hand  extended  to 
him  ;  and  having  now  recovered  an  equanim- 
ity which  nothing  but  the  Dacotah  subject  ever 
disturbed,  he  added, 

"If  you  and  I  were  to  take  a  summer -hunt 
towards  the  mountains,  with  that  light-limbed 
War-Eagle,  who  has  the  eyes,  and  ears,  and 
spring  of  a  painter,t  we  might  p'raps  bring  in  a 
liandsome  load  o'  skins,  and  may  be,  pay  off  the 
Throat-cutters  an  old  debt  or  two." 

"  It  is  more  likely  than  you  imagine,  Bap- 
tiste, that  v/e  shall  make  an  excursion  to  the 
West,  this  spring  ;  for  my  father  told  me  the 
other  day — but  see,  there  he  is,  with  Lucy  on 
his  arm,  and  Aunt  Mary,  and  Wolf  by  her  side  !" 

As  he  said  this,  the  young  man  bounded  for- 
ward, and  in  a  moment  was  in  the  r\idst  of 
them,  kissing  his  sister,  shaking  his  father  and 
Aunt  Mary  affectionately  by  the  hand,  and  pat- 
ting Wolf's  great  shaggy  head. 

"  Dear  Reginald !  what  has  kept  you  so 
long!"  said  Lucy,  reproachfully;  where  can 
you  have  been  1  Why,  your  clothes  ,are  all  soil- 
ed ;  and  see,  papa,"  she  added  turning  deadly 
pale;  "there  is  blond  upon  his  hunting-shirt 
and  upon  his  cheek  !" 

"  What  a  little  coward  art  thou,"  said  Regi- 
nald, "  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  soldier  !  Why, 
Lucy,  the  few  drops  of  blood  upon  my  clothes 
must  surely  have  come  from  your  cheeks,  which 
are  as  pale  as  a  magnolia  fiower  !  Harkee  Lucy, 
I  must  do  something  to  drive  the  rosy  c  .irent 
back  to  its  proper  channel;  come  here,  girl;' 


*  Every  Imiian  tribe  has  its  peculiar  mark,  or  sign  ;  among 
all  liie  nations  of  the  far-west,  the  Sioux,  or  Dacotahs, 
are  designated  by  passing  the  hand  across  the  throat  aa  if 
cutting  it. 
t  A  Panther  is  so  called  by  the  western  hunters. 


24 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


and  bending  her  head  aside,  he  whispered  some- 
thine  in  her  ear. 

r^ver  was  the  effect  of  magic  more  rapid, 
or  more  potent ;  for  in  an  instant  the  obedi- 
ent blood  rushed  to  the  fair  girl's  cheek,  suffu- 
sing, at  the  same  time,  her  neck  and  temples 
with  the  same  glowing  hue  ;  casting  upon  her 
brother  a  look  at  once  playful  and  appealing,  she 
pinched  his  ear  between  her  tiny  fingers  till  he 
fairly  btgged  pardon,  and  promised  not  to  do  3D 
again. 

As  it  was  now  evident  that  Reginald  was 
not  much  hurt,  Lucy  turned  her  eyes  towards 
the  hunter,  who  approached,  leading  Nekimi, 
still  snorting,  prancing,  and  curvetting,  at  the 
full  length  of  his  laryette.  "  Baptiste,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "  where  have  you  found  that  wild,  un- 
tamed animall" 

"  He  belongs,"  said  the  hunter,  "  to  Master 
Reginald." 

The  Colonel  looked  to  his  son  for  an  explana- 
tion, who  giving  an  arm  to  his  sister,  while  the 
Colonel  escorted  Aunt  Mary,  turned  homeward, 
and  narrated,  as  they  went,  the  events  described 
in  this  and  the  foregoing  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Containing  a  Sketch  of  Mooshanne. — Re^nald  introduces 
hia  Sister  to  the  two  Delawares. 

The  day  following  that  on  which  the  events 
related  in  the  preceding  pages  occurred,  there 
was  an  assemblage  more  than  usually  numer- 
ous, gathered  in  and  around  the  capacious  store 
of  David  Muir,  in  Marietta:  immediately  in 
front  of  his  door  was  a  small  party,  who,  from 
their  bearing  and  appearance,  might  be  easily 
recognised  as  leading  persons  in  the  little  com- 
munity. In  the  midst  of  them  was  a  roughly- 
dressed  country  lad,  whose  haggard  appearance 
indicated  wretchedness  or  fatigue,  or  both ;  near 
the  group  stood  his  horse  reeking  with  sweat, 
and  showing  that  the  messenger,  for  such  he 
was,  had  not  spared  the  spurs  on  the  road. 
Many  and  eager  were  the  questions  put  to  him, 
and  the  countenances  of  his  auditors  evinced  no 
ordinary  degree  of  interest  in  his  replies ;  sever- 
al women,  and  a  dozen  or  two  of  boys  and  girls, 
made  repeated  endeavours  to  penetrate  into  this 
important  circle;  and  having  contrived  to  over- 
hear a  disjointed  word,  here  and  there,  such  as 
"Indian,"  "scalped,"  "rifle,"  &c.,  they  sluuk 
away,  one  by  one,  to  spread  it  abroad  through 
the  village,  that  a  neighbouring  settlement  had 
been  attacked  by  a  large  body  of  Indians,  armed 
with  rifles  and  tomahawks;  and  that  every  man, 
woman,  and  child,  excepting  this  messenger,  who 
had  escaped,  was  scalped ! 

We  will,  however,  introduce  the  reader  into 
the  centre  of  the  above-mentionad  group,  and 
detail  to  him  the  substance  of  the  news  which 
created  so  much  excitement. 

It  appears  that  on  the  preceding  day,  two 
brothers,  named  Hervey,  were  riding  homeward, 
after  attending  a  marriage,  at  a  small  settlement 
twenty  miles  to  the  northward  of  Marietta:  they 
were  not  above  half  a  mile  in  advance  of  several 
other  men,  also  returning  from  the  marriage; 
both  were  armed  with  rifles,  having  been  shoot- 
ing at  a  target  for  a  wager,  when  on  a  sudden,  a 
single  Indian,  uttering  a  loud  war-whoop,  sprang 
ttom  a  thicket  by  the  road,  and  at  one  stroke  of 


his  war-club  felled  the  elder  brother  to  the  earl*; 
before  the  second  could  come  up  to  his  assist- 
ance, the  same  Indian  aimed  a  sweeping  blow 
at  his  head  with  the  but-end  of  his  rifle;  the 
younger  Hervey  warded  the  blow  also  with  his 
rifle,  but  it  fell  with  such  force  that  both  barrels 
were  broken  off  from  the  stocks;  with  the  rapid- 
ity of  lightning,  the  Indian  struck  him  heavily  on 
the  head,  and  he  fell  stunned  from  his  horse.  A 
few  minutes  afterward,  he  recovered,  and  found 
.some  of  his  friends  standing  over  him;  his  un- 
fortunate brother  lay  dead  and  scalped  at  his 
side ;  his  horse  and  the  Indian  had  disappeared. 
Several  young  men  dashed  off  immediately  in 
pursuit,  and  tracked  the  hoofs  successfully  until 
the  fugitive 'had  entered  the  hardy  and  stony  bed 
of  a  rivulet  fiilling  into  the  Muskingum;  hence 
all  farther  search  proved  unsuccessful,  and  they 
returned  dispirited  to^their  companions. 

It  was  long  since  *so  daring  an  outrage  had 
been  committed  in  the  Territory;  seldom  was  it 
that  the  Redskins  would  attack  white  men  in 
open  day,  unless  they  were  greatly  superior  in 
numbers ;  but  for  a  single  Indian  to  fall  upon  two 
armed  whites,  killing  one  and  leaving  the  other 
for  dead,  almost  within  call  of  bis  friends,  was 
an  instance  of  audacity  to  which  the  oldest  hunt- 
er could  scarcely  remember  a  parallel ;  it  was 
evident  also  that  the  savage  had  been  aware  of 
a  party  of  whites  being  at  hand,  otherwise  he 
would  certainly  have  shot  one  brother  before  he 
attacked  the  other;  but,  avoiding  the  discharge 
of  his  rifle,  he  had  efiected  his  purpose  with  a 
war-club. 

Another  striking  circumstance  was  the  clear 
evidence  afforded  that  the  killing  of  the  eldei 
Hervey  was  an  act  of  personal  revenge ;  because 
the  younger  brother,  when  knocked  from  his 
horse,  had  fallen  helpless  at  the  Indian's  feet; 
and  the  latter,  purposely  to  show  that  he  had 
spared  his  life  and  scalp,  had  struck  a  knife 
through  the  lappet  of  his  coat  into  the  ground, 
with  force  enough  to  bury  it  up  to  the  haft. 
Four  or  five  of  the  best  hunters  had  recommen- 
ced the  pursuit;  and  although  they  once  struck 
the  trail  of  a  man  on  foot  evidently  running  from 
them,  they  were  again  baffled  by  the  river,  and 
returned  to  the  settlement. 

Such  was  the  sum  of  the  messenger's  intelli- 
gence, which  caused,  as  can  easily  be  imagined, 
no  little  sensation  in  Marietta  and  the  neigh- 
bouring districts. 

"  I  know  some  of  the  worst  o'  them  Redskin 
devils,"  said  a  bulky  young  man,  whose  counte- 
nance betrayed  violent  passions,  and  strong 
symptoms  of  free  indulgence  in  David  Muir's 
"fire-water;"  "tell  me  what  was  this  Ingian 
likel  how  did  Dick  Hervey  describe  himl" 

"He  hadn't  over  much  time  to  look  at  him," 
said  the  messenger,  "  afore  he  was  sent  to  sleep; 
but  he  says  he  was  a  very  tall,  powerful  chap, 
streaked  over  the  face  with  black." 

"  Was  he  a  young  un  or  an  old  un  T' 

"A  young  un,  and  active  as  a  deer,  or  be 
couldn't  have  knocked  those  two  Herveys  oft 
their  critturs,  as  a  man  knocks  off  a  corncob  with 
an  ash  plant." 

"  1  wish  I  had  him  here,"  said  the  young  gi- 
ant, shutting  a  hand  as  heavy  and  large  as  a 
shoulder  of  mutton.  "  I'd  give  him  a  real  Ken. 
tucky  hug." 

None  of  the  bystanders  seemed  able  to  form 
any  guess  as  to  who  the  perpetrator  of  this  bold 
outrage  might  be;  it  was  resolved,  however,  tn 
take  all  possible  measures  for  his  discovery :  a 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


25 


meeting  of  the  principal  inhabitants  was  conve- 
ned, a  description  of  the  Indian's  person,  and  of 
the  marks  by  which  Hervey's  horse  might  be 
recognised,  was  written,  and  several  copies 
thereof  made,  and  forwarded  to  the  nearest  posts 
and  ferries ;  at  the  same  time  a  reward  of  a  hun- 
dred dollars  was  offered  to  any  person  who 
should  discover  the  offender,  and  a  hundred  more 
for  his  seizure,  dead  or  alive. 

During  the  discussion  of  these  and  other  plans 
at  the  meeting,  our  old  acquaintance  David 
Muir,  who  felt  himself  not  to  be  one  of  the  least 
important  persons  present,  said,  "I'm  thinking, 
gentlemen,  it  would  be  as  weel  to  send  a  mes- 
senger out  to  Colonel  Brandon,  wi'  this  intelli- 
gence ;  he  kens  the  Indians  as  weel's  ony  man 
in  this  country-side,  mayhap  he'll  gie  us  some 
gude  counsel ;  and,  sirs,"  added  David,  his  grey 
eyes  twinkling  at  his  own  sagacity,  "  be  sure  ye 
dinna  forget  to  tak  the  advice  o'  yon  lang-head- 
ed  chiel,  Battiste  ;  if  the  Indian  deevil's  o'  this 
side  the  Mississippi,  Battiste  will  fin'  him  out, 
as  sure  as  twa  threes  mak  sax." 

This  was  one  of  the  longest  orations  which 
David  had  ever  delivered  in  public;  and  both 
his  suggestions  being  approved,  carried  ')iem.  con., 
and  the  meeting  dissolved,  David  returned  to  his 
store  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  coat-tail  pock- 
ets, and  his  countenance  big  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  rendered  essential  service  to  the 
Territory. 

We  must  now  return  to  Reginald,  who,  on 
the  morning  of  this  same  day,  rose  with  the  sun ; 
and  feeling  himself  nothing  the  worse  from  his 
slight  v/ounds,  or  from  his  diving  adventure,  sal- 
lied forth  to  see  how  Baptiste  had  provided  for 
Nekimi's  safety  and  comfort.  All  means  hav- 
ing failed  to  entice  him  into  a  stable,  the  hunter 
had  secured  him  firmly  to  an  oak,  casting  down 
for  him  abundance  both  of  food  and  litter.  Re- 
ginald approached  him,  holding  in  his  hand 
some  bread ;  and  having  given  the  sharp,  shrill 
cry  (which,  to  Lucy's  great  alarm,  he  had  prac- 
tised more  than  once  in  the  house),  he  was 
agreeably  surprised  to  perceive  that  the  horse 
recognised  it,  and  seemed  less  averse  to  his  ca- 
resses; having  fed  him,  and  carefully  observed 
all  the  rules  laid  down  by  War-Eagle  for  gaining 
his  affections,  he  returned  to  the  house,  and  be- 
gan to  collect  the  various  articles  which  he  pro- 
posed to  give  to  his  Indian  brother;  among  these 
was  a  good  Kentucky  rifle,  and  a  handsome 
buck's-horn  knife  for  the  chief;  he  selected  also 
a  light  fowling-piece,  which  he  had  used  as  a 
boy,  and  which  he  intended  for  Wingenund;  to 
these  he  added  several  pounds  of  powder,  and  a 
due  proportion  of  lead;  he  also  threw  into  the 
package  a  few  beads  and  a  large  cornelian  ring, 
which  had  been  long  the  occupant  of  his  dress- 
ing-case. 

When  he  had  collected  all  these  together  he 
gave  them  to  Baptiste,  desiring  him  to  be  ready 
to  accompany  him  to  the  rendezvous  after  break- 
last;  and  having  finished  his  preparations,  he 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Lucy's  room,  to  inquire 
whether  she  was  ready  to  preside  at  the  morning 
meal. 

"  Come  in,  Reginald,"  she  said ;  "  if  I  am  rath- 
er late  it  is  your  fault ;  for  your  adventures  of 
yesterday  have  driven  sleep  from  my  pillow; 
and  even  when  I  did  fall  asleep,  I  dreamed  of 
nothing  but  your  Indian  hero." 

"Say  you  so,  faithless  one"?"  replied  Regi- 
nald; "I  shall  tell  that  to—" 

"  Husi  Eow,  Reginald,"  said  the  blushing  girl. 


piutingher  little  hand  upon  his  mouth;  ''did  you 
not  promise  me  yesterday  that  you  would  not  do 
so  again  V 

"Perhaps  I  did,"  said  her^  brother;  "and  I 
will  keep  it  if  you  will  come  down  stairs  and 
give  me  a  very  good  cup  of  coffee." 

In  the  breakfast-room  they  were  joined  by  the 
Colonel  and  Aunt  Mary ;  and  while  they  dis- 
cuss that  most  comfortable  of  family  meals,  we 
will  give  the  reader  a  slight  sketch  of  the  house 
in  which  they  were  assembled. 

It  was  built  of  substantial  brick  of  a  dun  red 
colour,  and  had  originally  been  a  regular  and 
solid  building  of  moderate  dimensions;  but  the 
Colonel  had  added  on  one  side  a  wing,  contain- 
ing a  library  and  sitting-rooms  ior  himself  and 
his  son,  while  on  the  opposite  side  he  had  built 
additional  apartments  for  Aunt  Mary,  and  a 
small  conservatory  for  Lucy.  Thus  the  build- 
ing had  gradually  assumed  a  straggling  and  ir- 
regular shape,  the  back  court  being  occupied  by 
stables,  barns,  and  extensive  farm-offices.  The 
site  of  the  house  was  on  a  gentle  elevation,  slo- 
ping down  to  a  little  brook,  which  wound  its  bub- 
bling way  through  a  deep  grove  of  oak,  maple, 
and  sycamore,  and  circling  round  the  base  of 
the  hill,  fell  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile  into 
the  Muskingum  river.  The  spot  still  retained 
the  name  of  "  Mooshanne"  (signifying  in  the 
Delaware  language  Elk  Creek),  probably  owing 
to  the  little  streamlet  above  mentioned  having 
been  a  favourite  resort  of  an  animal  which  the 
rifles  of  Reginald  and  Baptiste  had  rendered 
somewhat  scarce  in  the  neighbourhood. 

We  left  the  family  assembled  at  the  breakfa-st- 
table,  where  the  conversation  still  turned  upon 
the  adventures  of  the  preceding  day. 

"  Reginald,"  said  Lucy,  "  I  should  like  to  go 
with  you  to-day,  to  see  your  Indian  brothei',  and 
that  heroic  boy." 

"I  fear,"  replied  her  brother,  "it  is  farther 
than  you  could  easily  walk;  and,  moreover, 
Wingenund  will  scarcely  accompany  his  chief; 
he  must  be  still  too  weak  from  his  wound." 

"Nay,  Reginald;  if  the  distance  is  the  only 
difiiculty,  I  can  ride  Snowdrop;  and  if  Winge- 
nund does  come,  I  will  reward  him  for  his  brave 
defence  of  my  brother,  by  giving  him  some  little 
trinket,  which  he  may  take  back  to  his  sister. 
You  cannot  refuse  me  now,"  she  added,  in  a 
coaxing  tone,  the  power  of  which  over  her  broth- 
er was  all  but  despotic. 

"  Of  course  I  cannot,  ifyou  obtain  Aunt  Mary's 
and  the  Colonel's  permission,''  said  Reginald, 
smiling. 

Lucy  met  with  no  farther  opposition.  Snow- 
drop was  ordered  to  be  saddled ;  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  happy  girl  was  equipped,  and  provided 
with  a  coral  necklace  for  the  chief,  and  a  pretty 
broach,  destined  for  her  brother's  preserver. 

The  party  now  assembled  before  the  door, 
consisting  of  Reginald,  Baptiste,  and  Lucy, 
mounted  on  her  favourite  grey  pony:  our  hero 
slung  his  rifle  across  his  shoulders;  the  sturdy 
woodsman,  besides  carrying  his  own  enormous 
axe,  walked  lightly  under  the  two  rifles,  and  the 
other  articles  to  be  presented  to  the  chief,  and 
Wolf  played  around  them  his  fantastic  and  un- 
wieldy gambols. 

Cheerfial  and  smiling  was  the  wocdland  scen- 
ery through  which  they  passed;  the  dewdrops 
still  glittered  in  the  beams  of  the  morning  sun, 
and  the  air  was  impregnated  with  the  vernal  fra- 
grance  arising  from  a  thousand  opening  buds  and 
blossoms. 


'26 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIKD. 


"  See,  Lucy,"  said  her  brother,  as  he  walked 
by  her  side,  while  the  tact  of  the  sturdy  hunter 
kept  him  a  few  paces  in  the  rear,  "see  how 
those  mischievous  squirrels  hop  and  chatter 
upon  tlie  boughs !  Tliey  seem  to  know  that  your 
preser.ce  is  a  protection  to  tliem." 

•'  1  olten  wiinder.  Reginald,  liow  you  can  shoot 
su::h  playful  and  graceful  animals;  you  who 
have  taste  enough  to  admire  their  beauty,  and 
who  can  find  sport  more  worthy  of  your  ritle." 

"  It  is  childish  sport,  Lucy ;  yet  they  are  no 
contemptible  additions  to  the  table ;  their  furs  are 
useful,  and  there  is  some  skill  in  shooting  them 
— that  is,  in  shooting  ihein  properly." 

"If  I  were  a  man,  I  would  shoot  nothing  but 
lions  and  tigers,  buffaloes  or  bears !"  said  his  sis- 
ter. 

"A  pretty  Amazon,  truly!"  said  Reginald, 
laughing:  "yet,  methinks,  your  thoughts  are  not 
always  so  warlike.  Come,  Lucy,  now  that  we 
are  alone  (for  our  good  Baptiste  is  out  of  ear- 
shot), you  need  not  pout  or  blush  if  I  ask  you 
whether  Ethelston  is  expected  soon  to  return'?" 

"Itideed,  I  know  not,  Reginald,"  said  his  sis- 
ter, blushing  in  spile  of  his  prohibition.  "His 
last  letter  to  the  Colonel  mentioned  something 
about  privateers,  and  the  rupture  with  France. 
Papa  did  not  appear  desirous  of  communica- 
ting much  upon  the  subject,  so  I  dropped  it." 

"True,"  said  Reginald;  "the  French  will  not 
soon  forget  or  forgive  the  loss  of  their  fine  frig- 
ate, the  Insurgent,  which  was  taken  the  other 
day  so  gallantly  by  the  Constellation.  I  doubt 
not  they  will  endeavour  to  cripple  our  trade  in 
the  West  Indies.  Edward  has  got  a  little  craft 
that  can  run  if  she  cannot  fight." 

"  I  am  sure  Edward  will  never  run  if  it  is  pos- 
sible to  fight,"  said  Lucy,  a  little  piqued. 

"There,  again,  you  speak  the  truth:  it  is  be- 
cause his  courage  is  so  tempered  by  his  judg- 
ment, that  he  is  fit  to  be  entrusted  with  other 
lives  and  property  than  his  own:  if  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  right,  he  will  have  sense  and  skill  enough 
to  show  the  Frenchman  his  heels. — By-the-hy, 
Lucy,  which  vessel  is  he  now  commanding]" 

Again  there  was  a  decided  blush,  and  almost 
d  pout  on  Lucy's  full  lip,  as  she  said,  "  You  know, 
brother,  that  the  'Adventure,'  and  the  '  Pocahun- 
tas,'  are  both  in  port,  and  the  vessel  he  is  now  on 
board  of  is  the — " 

"Oh!  I  remember,"  said  Reginald,  laughing; 
"she  was  to  be  called  the  'Lucy;'  but  Edward 
did  not  choose  to  hear  that  name  in  every  com- 
mon sailor's  and  negroe's  mouth ;  so  he  altered  it 
to  the  '  Pride  of  Ohio,'  which  means  in  his  vo- 
cabulary the  same  thing." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Lucy,  "  there  was  any  Mary, 
or  Charlotte,  or  Catherine,  or  any  other  name 
under  the  sun,  about  which  I  could  tease  you ! 
Have  a  little  patience,  Mr.  Reginald ;  my  turn 
will  come:  you  shall  see  what  mercy  I  will 
show  you  then!" 

Thus  did  the  brother  and  sister  spar  and  jest 
with  each  other  until  they  reached  the  spot  ap- 
pointed for  the  interview.  As  they  had  arrived 
rather  before  the  time,  they  imagined  that  the 
War-Eagle  had  not  yet  come;  but  Baptiste,  put 
ting  his  finger  to  his  raouih,  blew  a  long  shril' 
signal-whistle,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  ''  ni'i.i 
appeared,  accompanied  by  Wingenund.  A? 
they  emerged  from  the  forest,  and  approachp.i, 
Reeina.d  looked  at  his  sisier  to  see  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  their  appearance;  for  the  chief  'A-as 
dressed  in  a  manner  calculated  to  display  his  no- 
ble figure  and  countenance  to  better     Iraniage 


than  on  the  preceding  day.  His  long  blacK 
hair  was  parted  on  his  forehead,  and  gathered 
into  a  mass,  confined  by  a  narrow  fillet  made 
from  the  fur  of  the  white  weasel,  and  surmount- 
ed by  an  eagle's  feather.  It  seemed  that  his  vow 
of  war  and  revenge  was  for  the  time  cancelled; 
for  the  lines  of  black  paint  which  had  disfigured 
his  visage  were  removed,  and  the  commanding 
form  and  features  were  not  marred  by  any  gic- 
tesque  or  fanciful  attire.  His  brawny  neck  was 
bare,  and  a  portion  of  his  boli^,  open  chest  ap- 
peared beneath  the  light  hunting  shirt,  which 
was  his  only  upper  vesture.  The  ponderous 
war-club  was  still  at  his  girdle,  but  the  scalp  had 
disappeared:  and  his  light,  free  step  upon  the 
grass  was  like  that  of  a  young  elk  on  a  prairie. 

The  dress  of  Wingenund  was  unaltered.  He 
was  still  very  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood,  and 
the  pain  consequent  upon  his  wound ;  his  arm 
rested  in  a  sling,  made  from  the  platted  bark  oi 
elm  ;  and  the  air  of  languor  cast  over  his  coun- 
tenance by  sleeplessness  and  suffering,  gave  ad- 
ditional effect  to  the  delicacy  of  his  features,  and 
the  deep  dark  lustre  of  his  eyes. 

"Our  new  brother  is  indeed  a  fine-looking 
creature!"  said  Lucy,  as  War-Eagle  drew  near. 
"What  a  haughty  step  and  bearing  he  has! 
Wingenund  looks  too  gentle  to  be  an  Indian!" 

"  He  is  as  brave  as  gentle,  Lucy  ;  look  at  his 
arm !"  and,  as  she  did  look  at  the  wounded  limb, 
she  remembered  that  only  yesterday  it  had  saved 
her  brother's  life. 

The  greeting  between  Reginald  and  the  two 
Indians  was  affectionate  and  cordial;  he  then 
presented  his  sister  to  them  both  in  turn.  The 
chieftain,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  fixed 
upon  her  that  penetrating  look  with  which  he 
had  before  scrutinized  her  brother ;  it  was  not 
'the  bold  stare  of  vulgarity  admiring  beauty,  but 
the  child  of  nature  reading  after  his  own  fashion 
a  page  in  her  book. 

"  War-Eagle,"  said  Lucy  to  him,  in  her  )wn 
gentle  tone  of  voice,  "  I  know  all  that  passed 
yesterday,  and  you  are  now  ray  brother!" 

As  she  pronounced  his  name  in  English,  a 
gleam  shot  from  his  eye,  and  a  perceptible  and 
sudden  change  came  over  his  countenance ; 
it  seemed  produced  by  some  unexpected  asso- 
ciation; and  Lucy  was  surprised  at  the  deep 
pathos  of  his  voice,  as  he  replic^.,  "  The  Great 
Spirit  has  made  the  sun  to  shic;;  oj.on  my  white 
brother's  path  !  His  heaa  i^  brave,  his  arm  is 
strong;  and  his  sister  i*  lit";  a  flower  of  the 
prairie ! — her  voice  coTiC"  upon  the  car  like  a 
pleasant  dream !"  Tne'e  last  words  he  spoke 
rather  to  himself  than  adiuressing  those  around 
him. 

Lucy  was  not  disydeased  with  the  Indian's 
compliment,  and  was  aoout  to  speak  to  Wings- 
nund,  when  Reginald  said  aloud,  "  Come,  let  us 
withdraw  among  Ihcje  thick  trees;  we  havs 
many  thing;;  to  talk  about."  His  proposal  be- 
ing assented  to,  the  ';vhole  party  were  soon  re- 
as'',eii.ol.  d  under  a  branching  oak,  screened  front 
*\ie  puVli'-,  track  by  a  thicket  of  rhododendron. 

W",n]£  '.hey  were  effecting  this  mancEUvre, 
Kn"  gr.idc  took  an  opportunity  of  interchanging 
a  lew  sen'.enjes  with  ths  War-Eagle;  the  result 
jf  wiiich  was  apparently  satisfactory  to  tht 
honest  woodsF.an,  for  his  face  instantly  resu- 
med its  usual  fran'r  and  careless  expression. 

'-Lucy,"  said  hc-r  brother,  "as  you  hav^ 
thought  proper  to  f^company  me  here,  ycu 
must  play  your  pr.rt  as  Q,ueen  of  the  Fe'as'.. 
I  hope  my  brothvr*  y^ill  value  these  baubief 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


27 


more  trom  your  hands  than  from  mine."  Thus 
instructed,  Lucy  openeu  the  canvass  package, 
•which  the  guide  had  hitherto  carried,  and  pre- 
senting the  large  rifle  to  the  chief,  she  said  to 
him, 

"  War-Eagle,  your  brother  and  your  white 
sister  give  you  this  rifle  as  a  mark  of  their 
friendship;  and  with  it  they  give  you  powder 
and  lead  enough  to  shoot  all  the  deer  and  bears 
in  the  territory." 

The  chief  placed  her  hand  and  her  brother's 
both  upon  his  heart,  saying,  "  War-Eagle 
thanks  you.  May  the  Great  Spirit  love  you 
and  guard  your  path!" 

He  then  poised  and  examined  the  rifle,  which 
was  a  piece  of  no  ordinary  beauty  and  excel- 
lence, while  Bapliste  whispered  to  him,  in  his 
own  language,  "  It  is  loaded." 

Lucy  then  turned  to  Wingenund,  and  present- 
ing him  with  the  lighter  fowling-piece,  said  to 
him,  "  With  this,  a  sister  thanks  Wingenund 
for  a  brother's  life." 

The  boy  cast  his  e)''es  modestly  to  the  ground, 
saying,  "  Wingenund  is  too  happy.  War-Ea- 
gle will  tell  his  name  to  tiie  braves  in  council. 
The  sister  of  Netis  is  good  to  him;  Wingenund 
is  ready  to  die  !" 

"  Indeed,"  said  Lucy  to  the  guide,  "  I  fear  he 
is  very  faint  and  ill;  ask  the  chief  how  he  pass- 
ed the  night !" 

"  Wingenund  is  not  ill,"  said  the  boy,  with  a 
smile  ;  "  he  is  verj'  happy." 

Meanwhile,  Baptiste  having  conferred  with 
the  chief,  replied,  "  Why,  Miss  Lucy,  the 
wound  was  a  very  bad  'un,  and  he  lost  a  power 
o'  blood;  once  or  twice  in  the  night,  War-Eagle 
thought  he  might  not  get  over  it;  but  he  is  bec- 
ter  now,  and  though  unable  to  bear  much  fa- 
tigue, he's  a  hardy  young  plant,  and  will  take 
as  much  killing  as  an  eel." 

"  Come,  Baptiste,"  said  Reginald ;  "  I  knov/ 
you  put  something  to  eat  and  drink  into  that 
sack  with  the  ammunition:  War-Eagle  must 
feast  with  us  to-day." 

The  guide,  opening  his  capacious  wallet, 
drew  from  it  a  venison  pasty,  some  bread,  and 
a  couple  of  boUles  of  Madeira.  Lucy  declined 
taking  more  than  a  crust  of  bread,  merely  tast- 
ing the  wine  to  the  health  of  the  hunters.  Winge- 
nund was  equally  abstemious,  and  sat  a  little 
apart  with  his  new  sister;  while  Reginald,  Bap- 
tiste, and  the  chief  made  a  more  substantial 
luncheon.  The  latter  being  asked,  by  Reginald, 
how  he  liked  the  wine,  replied,  carelessly, 
"  Good."  But  it  was  evident  that  he  drank  it 
rather  from  courtesy  than  because  it  pleased  his 
palate. 

Reginald  now  desired  the  guide  to  speak  to 
the  War-Eagle  in  his  own  tongue,  and  to  gather 
from  him  all  the  requisite  particulars  for  his 
joining  the  Delawares  in  their  summer-hunt 
beyond  the  Mississippi..^  He  had  long  been 
antious  to  visit  some  of  those  scenes  which 
Baptiste  had  so  often  described;  and  his  father 
having  expressed  a  wish  that  he  should  go  to 
St.  Louis  on  some  business  connected  with  his 
investments  in  the  fur-trade,  he  thought  that  so 
fair  an  opportunity  ought  not  to  be  lost. 

While  the  guide  and  the  chief  conversed  in  a 
low  and  earnest  tone  of  voice,  and  Reginald 
listened  with  an  idle  curiosity,  imagining  now 
and  then  that  he  could  catch  their  meaning, 
Lucy  became  much  interested  in  her  conversa- 
tion with  Wingenund ;  she  was  surprised  at  his 
intelligence  and  proficiency  in  English,  and  was 


touched  by  the  melancholy  expression  of  his 
countenance  and  of  his  deep  lustrous  eyes.  As 
she  was  speaking,  he  suddenly  and  impressively 
placed  his  finger  on  her  arm,  then  raised  it  tg 
his  own  lips,  as  a  sign  to  her  to  be  silent,  thea 
creeping  two  or  three  yards  from  the  party,  he 
threw  himself  at  full  length  on  the  grass  with 
his  ear  to  the  ground.  Lucy  listened  attentive- 
ly, but  could  hear  nothing  but  the  gentle  breezp 
stirring  the  leaves,  and  the  regular  sound  ot 
Snowdrop's  teeth  as  he  nibbled  the  young  grass. 

The  three  hunters  were  still  busy  witli  their 
arrangements  for  the  summer,  when  Winge- 
nund, resuming  his  sitting  posture,  uttered  an 
almost  imperceptible  sound,  like  the  hiss  of  a 
small  serpent;  instantly,  as  if  by  instinct,  the 
War-Eagle  grasped  his  rifle,  and  looked  in- 
quiringly on  the  intelligent  countenance  of  the 
boy. 

"  Wingenund  hears  men  and  horses,"  was 
the  short  reply. 

Baptiste  strained  his  practised  ears  to  the  ut- 
most, as  did  Reginald,  without  success.  Even 
War-Eagle  seemed  for  a  moment  unable  to 
catch  the  sound — he  then  whispered  to  Regi- 
nald, "  Wingenund  speaks  truth,  there  are  mea 
— not  a  few." 

Several  minutes  elapsed  before  our  hero  and 
the  guide  could  distinguish  the  tramp  of  horses 
and  the  voices  of  men  speaking  angrily. 

Our  hero  and  his  party  being  effectually 
screened  from  view  by  the  dense  laurel*  thicket, 
could  listen  unobserved  to  the  conversation  of 
those  who  were  approaching;  and  the  following 
expressions,  delivered  in  a  loud  and  authorita- 
tive tone,  at  once  attracted  and  absorbed  their 
attention:  "It  is  impossible  that  the  fellow 
should  escape,  we  have  scouts  out  in  every  di- 
rection. There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  camp 
which  we  have  just  found  in  the  woods  is  the 
one  where  he  passed  the  night  with  other  Red- 
skins, for  the  embers  are  still  warm.  Dicken- 
son and  Brown  are  gone  south  towards  M  :ri- 
elta ;  Henderson  and  his  party  are  tracking  the 
prairies  to  the  north;  it  is  impossible  he  should 
long  escape;  and  young  Hervey  thinks  heshoul4 
know  him  anywhere !" 

While  the  person  who  appeared  to  be  the  lead- 
er of  the  unseen  party  was  thus  speaking,  War- 
Eagle  whispered  a  few  sentences  to  Wingenund, 
to  which  the  intelligent  youth  only  replied  by  a 
look;  the  chief  then  conversed  apart,  in  alow, 
earnest  voice,  with  the  guide,  who  ended  by 
grasping  his  hand,  and  saying,  in'the  Delaware 
tongue,  "  Grande-Hache  will  do  it  at  the  risk  of 
his  life." 

The  chief  appeared  satisfied,  and  rising  with 
calm  dignity,  he  tightened  the  belt  at  his  waist, 
to  which  he  hung  his  newl3'-acquired  knife  and 
ammunition  ;  and  throwing  his  rifle  into  the  hol- 
low of  his  left  arm,  he  said  to  Reginald,  "War- 
Eagle  must  leave  his  brother  Netis;  Grande- 
Hache  will  tell  him  all;  before  two  moons  have 
passed,  Netis  will  come  to  Imnt  the  bison  with, 
his  brother;  and  he  shall  sm  <ke  with  the  braves 
of  the  Lenape." 

"  He  will,"  replied  Reginajd,  warmiy  pressing 
his  hand,  and  at  the  same  tune  passing  the  cor- 
nelian ring  upon  one  of  the  fingers  of  the  chief. 
"If  the  Great  Spirit  gives  hin"  Mfe,  he  will  come 
and  hunt,  and  smoke  with  his  Lenape  brother." 

The  chief,  now  turning  to  Lucy,  drew  from 
his  head  the  eagle  feather  which  was  passed 


*  In  the  Westeiii  States,  the  rhododendron  is  generallji 
caUed  the  laurel 


28 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD, 


Jirough  his  hair,  and  which  was  quaintly  stain- 
ed, and  ornamented  with  porcupine  quills ;  offer- 
ing it  gracefully  to  her,  he  said,  in  a  voice  of 
musical  gentleness,  "  War-Eagle  wishes  happi- 
ness to  the  'pale  flower  of  Mooshanne;'  many 
braves  have  tiied  to  pluck  this  feather  from  his 
head;  no  Dacotah  nor  Pawnee  has  touched  it 
and  lived  !  The  sister  of  Netis  may  fasten  it  in 
her  hair — let  none  but  a  brave  warrior  raise  his 
eyes  to  it  there." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  War-Eagle,"  said  Lucy, 
kindly,  "  I  promise  you  it  shall  never  be  touched 
by  an  unworthy  hand;  and  do  you  take  this 
string  of  red  beads,"  giving  him  at  the  same 
time  a  coral  necklace,  "  and  wear  it  for  the  sake 
of  your  white  sister." 

The  chief  received  this  gift  with  evident  pleas- 
ure; and  waving  his  hand  in  adieu,  whispering 
at  the  same  time  one  parting  word  to  Winge- 
nund,  he  strode  leisurely  away,  and  was  soon 
lost  in  the  deep  glades  of  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

How  Reginald  Brandon  returned  to  Mooshanne  with  his 
Sister,  accompanied  by  Wingenund  ;  and  what  befell 
them  on  the  Road. 

Lucy  Brandon  was  not  a  little  surprised  at 
the  chief's  sudden  departure,  and  with  the  frank- 
ness natural  to  her  character,  inquired  of  her 
brother  whether  he  could  explain  its  cause;  Re- 
ginald appeared  either  unable  or  unwilling  to  do 
so;  and  an  appeal  to  the  guide  produced  only 
ihe  following  unsatisfactory  reply : 

"War-Eagle  is  like  the  bird  after  which  he's 
tailed — it  ain't  easy  to  explain  or  to  follow  his 
flight." 

Wingenund  remained  silent,  but  every  now 
and  then  he  fixed  his  bright  and  speaking  eyes 
upon  Lucy,  as  if  he  would  divine  her  thoughts. 
That  young  lady,  though  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  her  embarrassment,  entertained  a  fear  that 
all  was  not  right,  and  proposed  to  her  brother  to 
return  to  Mooshanne. 

Snowdrop  was  soon  caught,  and  the  little  par- 
ty moved  leisurely  homeward,  Reginald  and  the 
guide  leading,  the  way,  and  Wingenund  walking 
by  the  side  of  Lucy's  pony ;  after  riding  a  few 
minutes,  she  recovered  her  spirits,  and  remem- 
bering that  there  was  no  foundation  for  any  sur- 
mises of  evil,  she  resumed  the  conversation  with 
her  young  companion,  which  the  chief's  depart- 
ure had  interrupted.  "Tell  me,  Wingenund, 
who  is  the  '  Black  Father,'  of  whom  you  speak?" 

"He  is  very  good,"  said  the  boy,  seriously; 
'he  talks  with  the  Great  Spirit;  aiid  he  tells  us 
all  that  the  Great  Spirit  has  done ;  how  He  made 
the  earth,  and  the  water;  and  how  He  punishes 
bad  men,  and  makes  good  men  happy." 

"  He  is  a  white  man,  thenl"  said  Lucy. 

"  He  is,"  replied  the  lad;  "but  though  he  is  a 
white  man,  he  always  speaks  truth,  and  does 
good,  and  drinks  no  fire-water,  and  is  never  an- 
gry." 

What  a  humiliating  reflection  is  it,  thought 
Lucy  to  herself,  that  in  the  mind  of  this  young 
savage,  the  idfea  of  white  men  is  naturally  asso- 
ciated with  drunkenness  and  strife!  "Tell  me, 
Wingenund," she  continued,  "is  the  'Black  Fa- 
ther'old  T' 

"Many  winters  have  passed  over  his  head, 
and  their  snow  rests  upon  his  hair." 

"  Does  he  live  with  you  always?' 

"  He  comes  and  he  goes,  like  the  suashioe  and 


the  rain ;  he  is  always  welcome ;  and  the  Lenap* 

love  him." 

"  Can  he  speak  your  tongue  well  1" 

"  He  speaks  many  tongues,  and  tries  to  make 
peace  between  the  tribes,  but  he  loves  the  Le- 
nape,  and  he  teaches  '  the  Prairie-bird'  to  talk 
with  the  Great  Spirit." 

"  Does  your  sister  speak  to  the  Black  Father 
in  her  own  tongue  1" 

"  Sometimes,  and  sometimes  in  the  English ; 
but  often  in  a  strange  tongue,  written  on  a  great 
book.  The  Black  Father  reads  it,  and  the  Prai- 
rie-bird opens  her  ears,  and  lo»ks  on  his  face, 
and  loves  his  words;  and  then  she  tells  them  all 
to  me.  But  Wingenund  is  a  child  of  the  Lena- 
pe — he  cannot  understand  these  things !" 

"  You  will  understand  them,"  said  Lucy, 
kindly,  "  if  you  only  have  patience;  you  know," 
she  added,  smiling,  "your  sister  understands 
them,  and  she  is  a  Lenape  too !" 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy;  "but  nobody  is  like 
Prairie-bird." 

"  She  must,  indeed,  be  a  remarkable  person," 
said  Lucy,  humouring  her  young  companion's 
fancy;  "still,  as  you  have  the  same  father  and 
mother,  and  the  same  blood,  whatever  she  learns, 
you  can  learn  too." 

"  I  have  no  father  or  mother,"  said  Winge- 
nund, sadly,  and  he  added,  in  a  mysterious 
whisper,  drawing  near  to  Lucy,  '•  Prairie-bird 
never  had  a  father  or  mother." 

"  Never  had  a  father  or  mother !"  repeated 
Lucy,  as  the  painful  thought  occurred  to  her, 
that  poor  Wingenund  was  deranged. 

"  Never,"  said  the  boy,  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  she 
came  from  there,"  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to- 
wards the  northwest  quarter  of  the  heaven. 

"  How  melanoholy  is  it,"  said  Luc}'-  ta  her- 
self, "  to  think  tjiat  this  brave,  amiable  boy  is 
so  afflicted !  that  so  intelligent  and  quick  a 
mind  is  like  a  lyre  with  a  broken  string!  Still," 
thought  she,  "  I  will  endeavour  to  understand 
his  meaning,  and  to  undeceive  him." 

"  Dear  Wingenund,  you  are  mistaken — your 
sister  had  the  same  father  and  mother  as  your- 
self; she  may  have  learned  much,  and  may  un- 
derstand things  strange  to  you,  but  you  might 
learn  them  too." 

"  Wingenund's  father  and  mother  are  dead," 
said  the  boy,  in  a  voice  of  deep  and  suppressed 
emotion;  "he  will  not  tell  you  how  they  died, 
for  it  makes  his  heart  throb  and  his  eyes  burn ; 
but  you  are  good  to  him,  and  shall  not  see  his 
anger.  Prairie-bird  never  had  a  father;  the 
Great  Spirit  gave  her  to  the  Lenapfe." 

While  Lucy  was  musing  how  she  should  en- 
deavour to  dispel  this  strange  delusion  which 
seemed  to  have  taken  such  firm  hold  of  her 
young  companion's  mind,  Reginald  and  Bap- 
tiste  halted,  and  the  latter  said,  "You  see  that 
party  approaching;  they  may  put  some  trouble- 
some questions,  leave-,  me  to  answer  them. 
Wingenund,  you^know  what  I  meanV 

"  Wingenund  does  not  understand  English," 
said  the  boy,  a  slight  smile  of  irony  lurking  in 
the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

The  approaching  party  consisted  of  eight  or 
ten  men,  all  armed  with  rifles,  excepting  two, 
who  were  mounted,  and  who  carried  cutlasses 
and  large  horse-pistols;  among  the  pedestrians 
towered  the  gigantic  form  of  young  Mike  Smith, 
who  has  already  been  presented  to  the  reader 
before  the  store  of  David  Muir,  in  Marietta; 
and  among  the  horsemen  was  the  younger  Her- 
vev,  leading  liis  friends  to  scour  the  whole  couiu 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


29 


try  in  search  of  the  slayer  of  his  brother;  they 
were  all  in  a  high  state  of  excitement;  and  de- 
spite the  cool  and  unmoved  demeanour  of  the 
guide,  he  was  not  without  apprehension  that 
they  might  desire  to  wreak  their  vengeance  on 
Wingenund. 

"  Ha !  Baptiste,"  said  Hervey,  grasping  the 
guide's  hand;  "you  are  the  very  man  we  are 
in  search  of;  we  have  already  been  to  the  colo- 
nel's, and  he  told  us  we  should  find  you  with 
his  son,  and  with  Mis  Brandon,  in  this  quarter. 
We  want  your  assistance,  man,  and  that  speed- 
ily, too." 

"  How  can  I  serve  you  V  said  the  guide ; 
"what  is  the  matter  1  you  seem  bent  on  a  hunt." 

"A  hunt"?"  exclaimed  Hervey,  "yes,  a  hunt 
of  a  Redskin  devil!  Harkee,  Baptiste!"  and 
stooping  from  his  horse,  he  repeated  to  the  guide 
in  a  low  voice,  but  clear  enough  to  be  heard  by 
all  present,  the  circumstances  attending  his 
brother's  death. 

"  A  daring  act,  indeed,"  said  the  guide,  mu- 
sing; "but  could  not  you  follow  the  trail  while 
it  was  fresh  yesterday "?" 

"  We  followed  it  to  a  creek  leading  to  the 
Muskingum,  and  there  we  lost  it." 

"  Can  you  describe  the  appearance  of  the  In- 
.iian  V  inquired  the  guide. 

"  A  tall,  handsome  fellow,  as  straight  as  a 
poplar,  and  with  a  leap  like  a  painter,  so  he 
seemed ;  but  d — n  him,  he  gave  me  such  a  knock 
on  the  head,  that  my  eyes  swam  for  five  min- 
utes." 

A  cold  shudder  ran  through  Lucy's  limbs  as, 
comparing  this  slight  sketch  of  War-Eagle  with 
his  sudden  departure  and  the  guide's  caution  to 
Wingenund,  she  recognised  in  the  chief  the  ob- 
ject of  their  search  :  glancing  her  eye  timidly  at 
Wingenund,  she  could  read  on  his  countenance 
no  trace  of  uneasiness;  he  was  playing  with 
Snowdrop's  mane ;  his  gun  resting  on  the  ground, 
and  he  himself  apparently  unconscious  of  what 
was  passing. 

After  a  minute's  reflection,  the  guide  contin- 
ued :  "  You  say  that  the  Indian's  rifle  was  bro- 
ken in  half;  did  you  notice  anything  about  itT' 

"Nothing:  it  was  a  strong  coarse  piece;  we 
have  brought  the  stock  with  us;  here  it  is,"  he 
added,  calling  up  one  of  his  party  to  whom  it 
had  been  entrusted. 

The  guide  took  it  in  his  hand,  and  at  the  first 
glance  detected  the  imitation  of  a  feather,  rough- 
ly but  distinctly  cut  with  a  knife;  his  own  sus- 
picions were  at  once  confirmed,  although  his 
countenance  betrayed  no  change  of  expression ; 
but  Mike  Smith,  who  had  been  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  had  also  observed  the  marks  of  the 
feather,  and  noticed  it  irained lately  aloud,  ad- 
ding, "  Come,  Baptiste,  you  know  all  the  Ingian 
marks  between  Alleghany  and  the  Missouri; 
what  Redskin  has  this  belonged  to  1" 

"Mike,"  said  the  guide  coolly,  "a  man's 
tongue  must  shoot  far  and  true  to  hit  such  a 
mark  as  that." 

"  And  yet,  Baptiste,  if  I'd  been  as  long  at  the 
guiding  and  trappin?  as  you,  I  think  I'd  a'  know'd 
something  about  it." 

"Ay,  that's  the  way  of  it,"  replied  Baptiste; 
"  you  young  'uns  a.ways  think  you  can  shave 
a  hog  with  a  horn  spoon !  I  'spose,  Master  Mike, 
you  can  tell  a  buzzard  from  a  mocking-bird ;  but 
if  I  was  to  show  you  a  feather,  and  ask  you  what 
buzzard  it  belonged  to,  the  answer  might  not  be 
easy  to  find." 

^'You're  an  old  fool,"  growled  Mike  angrily; 


and  he  added  as  his  eye  rested  suddenly  upon 
Wingenund,  "what  cub  is  that  standing  by 
Miss's  white  pouyl  we'll  see  if  he  knows  this 
mark.     Come  here,  you  devil's  brat." 

Not  a  muscle  in  the  boy's  face  betrayed  his 
consciousness  that  he  was  addressed. 

"  Come  here,  you  young  Redskin !"  shouted 
Mike  yet  more  angrily,  "  or  I'll  sharpen  your 
movements  with  the  point  of  my  knife." 

Reginald's  fiery  temper  was  ill  calculated  to 
brook  the  young  backwoods-man's  coarse  and 
violent  language ;  placing  himself  directly  be- 
tween him  and  Wingenund,  he  said  to  the  for- 
mer in  a  stern  and  determined  tone,  "  Master 
Smith,  you  forget  yourself;  that  boy  is  one  of 
my  company,  and  is  not  to  be  exposed  either  to 
insult  or  injury." 

"  Here's  a  pretty  coil  about  a  young  Redskin," 
said  Mike,  trying  to  conceal  his  anger  under  a 
forced  laugh;  "how  do  we  know  that  he  ain't  a 
brother  or  a  son  of  the  Ingian  we're  in  search  ol; 
s'  blood,  if  we  could  find  out  that  he  was,  we'd 
tar  him,  and  burn  him  over  a  slow  fire!" 

"  I  tell  you  again,"  said  Reginald,  '■  that  he  is 
guilty  of  no  crime;  that  he  saved  my  life  yester- 
day at  the  risk  of  his  own,  and  that  while  I  live 
neither  you  nor  any  of  your  party  shall  touch  a 
hair  of  his  head." 

Baptiste  fearing  the  result  of  more  angry  words, 
and  moved  by  an  appealing  look  from  Miss 
Brandon,  now  interposed,  and  laying  his  hand 
on  Smith's  shoulder,  said,  "Come,  Master  Mike, 
there  is  no  use  in  threatening  the  young  Red- 
skin when  you  see  that  he  does  not  understand 
a  word  that  you  say ;  tell  me  what  you  wish  to 
inquire  of  him,  and  I  will  ask  him  in  his  own 
tongue." 

"  His  tongue  be  d — d,"  said  Mike ;  "  I'll  wa- 
ger a  hat  against  a  gallon  of  David  Muir's  be=i-, 
that  the  brat  knows  English  as  well  as  you  or  I, 
although  he  seems  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
count  the  tassels  on  the  edge  of  his  shirt.  I'll 
show  you  without  hurting  him,"  he  added  lx  a 
lower  tone,  "  that  I'm  not  far  wrong." 

"  You  swear  not  to  injure  him  V  said  Reginald, 
who  overheard  what  passed. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mike ;  "  I  only  want  to  show  you 
that  he  can't  make  a  fool  of  Mike  Smith." 
Here  he  called  up  one  of  the  men  from  the 
rear;  and  having  whispered  something  in  his 
ear,  he  said  in  a  loud  and  distinct  tone  of  voice, 
"Jack,  we  have  found  out  that  this  Indian  cub 
belongs  to  the  parly,  one  of  whom  murdered  poor 
Hervey.  Life  for  life  is  the  law  of  the  back- 
woods; do  you  step  a  little  on  one  side;  I  wil' 
count  four,  and  when  I  come  to  the  four,  split 
me  the  young  rascal's  head,  either  with  a  bullet 
or  with  your  axe." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  as  you  are  men,"  ex- 
claimed Lucy  in  an  agony,  "spare  him!" 

"Peace,  Miss  Brandon,"  said  Mike;  "your 
brother  will  explain  to  you  that  it  must  be  so." 

The  guide  would  fain  have  whispered  a  word 
to  the  boy,  but  he  was  too  closely  watched  by 
Smith,  and  he  was  obliged  to  trust  to  Winge- 
nund's  nerves  and  intelligence. 

"Are  you  ready.  Jack?'  said  Mike  audibly, 

"  Yes !"  and  he  counted  slowly,  pausing  be- 
tween each  number:  one — two — tkrce!  At  the 
pronunciation  of  this  last  word  Wingenund, 
whose  countenance  had  not  betrayed  by  the 
movement  of  a  muscle,  or  by  the  expression  of  a 
single  feature,  the  slightest  interest  in  what  was 
passing,  amused  himself  by  patting  the  great 
rough  bead  which  Wolf  rubbed  against  hia 


so 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


hand,  as  if  totally  unconscious  that  the  deadly 
weapon  was  raised,  and  that  tiie  next  word 
from  the  hunter's  lips  was  to  be  his  death  war- 
rant. 

"  D— n  it,  )'ou  are  right  after  all,  Baptiste," 
said  Mike  Smith;  "the  brat  certainly  does  not 
understand  us,  or  he'd  have  pricked  his  ears 
when  I  came  to  number  three ;  so,  do  you  ask 
him  in  his  own  lingo  if  he  knows  that  mark  on 
the  ride-butt,  and  can  tell  us  to  what  Redskin 
U'ibe  it  belongs  1" 

The  guide  now  addressed  a  few  words  to 
Wingenund  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  while  Re- 
ginald and  Lucy  interchanged  a  glance  of  won- 
der and  admiration  at  the  boy's  sagacity  and 
courage. 

"  He  tells  me  that  he  has  seen  this  mark 
before,"  said  the  guide. 

"Has  he  J"  replied  Mike;  "ask  him  whether 
It  is  that  of  a  Shawnee,  or  a  Wyandoi ;  of  an 
Iroquois  or  of  a  Delaware  V 

After  again  conferring  with  Wingenund,  the 
guide  muttered  to  himself,  "  This  youngster  won't 
tell  a  lie  to  keep  a  bullet  from  his  brain  or  a  hal- 
ter from  his  neck ;  I  must  act  for  him."  He  ad- 
ded in  a  louder  tone,  "  Mike,  a  word  with  you: 
it  is  not  unlikely  that  the  Ingian  you're  in  search 
of  is  the  same  who  gave  the  boy  that  wound, 
and  who  tried  to  kill  Master  Reginald  yesterday ; 
if  it  is  so,  he  wants  no  more  punishing;  he  has 
his  allowance  already." 

"How  sol"  said  Mike. 

"He  is  dead,  man— killed  on  the  spot.  Do 
you  and  Hervey  meet  me  here  to-morrow  an 
nour  before  noon ;  I  will  take  you  to  the  place 
where  the  body  is  buried,  and  you  shall  judge 
for  yourselves  whether  it  is  that  of  the  man  you 
seek." 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  said  Mike,  "  we'll  come  to 
the  time ;  now,  lads,  forward  to  Hervey's  Clear- 
ing. Let's  have  a  merry  supper  to-night;  and 
to-morrow,  if  the  guide  shows  us  the  carcase  of 
this  rascal,  why  we  can't  hurt  that  much;  but 
we'll  pay  off  a  long  score  one  day  or  other  with 
some  of  the  Redskins.  Sorry  to  have  kept  you 
waitin'.  Miss,  and  hope  we  haven't  scared  you," 
said  the  rough  fellow,  making,  as  he  drew  off 
his  party,  an  awkward  attempt  at  a  parting  bow 
to  Lucy. 

"  That  was  a  clever  turn  of  Baptiste's,"  said 
Reginald  in  a  low  voice  to  his  sister;  "he  has 
made  them  believe  that  the  cowardly  knave  who 
tried  to  stab  me  was  the  perpetrator  of  the  daring 
outrage  which  they  seek  to  avenge  1" 

"And  was  it  really  War-Eagle"?"  said  Lucy, 
with  a  slight  shudder.  "  He  who  seems  so  no- 
ble and  so  gentle — was  it  he  who  did  if?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  said  Reginald. 
'  But  is  it  not  wrong  in  us  to  be  friends  with 
him,  and  to  aid  his  escape"?" 

"  Indeed,"  replied  her  brother,  "  it  admits  of 
doubt ;  let  us  ask  the  guide,  he  will  speak  now 
without  reserve."  And  accordingly  Reginald 
repeated  to  Baptiste  the  question  and  his  sister's 
scruples. 

"  Why  you  see,  Miss,"  said  the  wary  hunter, 
"  there  is  no  proof  that  War-Eagle  did  it,  though 
I  o^nfess  it  was  too  bold  a  deed  to  have  been 
done  by  that  dog  of  a  Wyandot ;  but  I  will  tell 
you.  Miss,"  he  added,  with  increasing  energy 
and  vehemence,  "  if  the  War-Eagle  did  it,  you 
wil.  yourself,  when  you  know  all,  confess  that 
he  did  it  nobly,  and  that  he  deserves  no  punish- 
ment from  man.  That  elder  Hervey  was  one  of 
the  blood-thirsty  band  by  whom  the  harmless 


Christian  Indians*  were  murdered  ;  and  it  is  be- 
lieved that  it  was  by  his  own  hand  that  Winge- 
uund's  father  fell;  ?/ War-Eagle  revenged  this 
cruel  murder,  and  yet  spared  the  life  of  the 
younger  brother  when  lying  helpless  at  his  feet, 
who  shall  dare  to  blame  him,  or  move  a  fool  in 
his  pursuit  1" 

"  He  speaks  the  truth,  Lucy,"  said  her  brctier; 
"  according  to  the  rules  by  which  retaliation  is 
practiced  by  mankind,  War-Eagle  woukl  have 
been  justified  in  punishing  with  death  such  a:i 
act  of  unprovoked  atrocity  ;  but  it  is  a  danger- 
ous subject  10  discuss  :  you  had  better  forget  all 
you  have  heard  about  it;  and  in  case  of  farther 
inquiries  being  made  in  your  presence,  imitate 
the  happy  unconsciousness  lately  displayed  by 
Wingenund." 

"  Come  here,  my  dear  young  brother,"  he 
added  in  a  kindly  tone,  "and  tell  us — did  you 
really  think  that  hot-headed  chap  was  going  to 
shoot  you  when  he  counted  number  three"?" 

"No!"  said  the  boy,  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"And  why  not"?  for  he's  a  violent  and  angry 
man." 

"  He  dared  not,"  was  the  reply. 

"How  sol" 

"  He  is  a  fool !"  said  the  boy,  in  the  same 
scornful  tone;  "a  fool  scarcely  fit  to  frighten 
the  fawn  of  an  antelope  I  If  he  had  touched  me, 
or  attempted  to  shoot  me,  Netis  and  Grande- 
Hache  would  have  killed  him  immediately.'' 

"You  are  right,  my  young  brave,"  said  Regi- 
nald, "  he  dared  not  hurt  you.  See,  dear  Lucy," 
he  added  apart  to  his  sister,  "what  a  ripe  judg- 
ment, what  a  heroic  spirit,  what  nerves  of  iron, 
are  found  in  the  slender  frame  of  this  wounded 
boy,  exhausted  by  fatigue  and  suffering!" 

"We  will  at  least  give  him  a  hearty  supper," 
said  Lucy,  "and  an  affectionate  welcome  to  our 
home.** 

Wingenund  thanked  her  with  his  dark  eyes, 
and  the  little  party  proceeded  leisurely,  without 
incident  or  interruption,  to  Mooshanne.  ^ 


CHAPTER  X. 

In  which  the  Reader  is  unceremoniously  transported  to 
another  Element  in  Company  with  Echelston  ;  the  latter 
is  left  in  a  disagreeable  Predicament. 

It  is  time  that  we  should  now  turn  our  atten- 
tion to  Ethelston,  who  is  much  too  important  a 
personage  in  our  narrative  to  be  so  long  neglect- 
ed, and  respecting  whose  safetj'  Lucy  began  to 
feelthe  jealous  anxiety  of  love  ;  for  "  The  Pride 
of  Ohio"  had  been  long  expected  in  Marietta, 
and  several  French  frigates  and  corvettes  were 
reported  to  be  cruising  among  »he  West  India 
Islands,  actively  engaged  in  revenging  upon 
American  commerce  the  loss  whir^h  they  had 
sustained  in  the  Insurgente.  Wc  shall  soon  see 
that  Lucy's  alarm  was  not  altogether  ground- 
less, and  that  her  lover's  prolonged  abs'^nce  v\aa 
not  without  sufficient  cause.  About  a  morrth 
preceding  the  occurrences  detailed  m  \h9.  lasi 
chapter,  Ethelston,  having  landed  his  merchan- 
dise in  safety  at  Port  Royal,  and  having  lakea 
on  board  a  small  cargo  of  sugar  and  coffee,  pro 
pared  to  return  to  New  Orleans  ;  he  had  hean' 
of  the  French  men-of-war  cruising  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  prudently  resolved  to  risk  as  littl* 


*  Alluding  again  to  the  massacre  of  the  Moravian  Del* 
wares  at "  Gnadenhutten." 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


31 


as  possible  on  this  trip  ;  he  took,  therefore,  secu- 
rities for  a  great  portion  of  the  amount  due  to 
him,  which  he  left  in  the  charge  of  the  vessel's 
consignees,  and  conveyed  on  board  only  a  suffi- 
cient cargo  to  put  The  Pride  of  Ohio  in  perfect 
sailing  trim,  and  to  give  her  a  fair  chance  of  es- 
cape in  case  she  were  chased  by  an  enemy  ;  his 
ittle  brig  was  well  rigged  and  manned,  and  he 
felt  confident  that  few,  if  any,  of  the  French 
cniisers  would  match  her  for  speed.  His  mate 
or  sailing-master  was  Gregson,  a  hardy,  weather- 
beaten  old  sailor,  who  had  served  on  board  every 
kind  of  craft,  from  a  man-of-war  to  a  fishing- 
cobble,  and  knew  every  headland,  reef,  and  cur- 
rent in  that  dangerous  sea,  as  well  as  a  Liver- 
pool pilot  knows  the  banks  and  shoals  in  the 
mouth  of  the  Mersey.  The  Pride  of  Ohio 
mounted  three  guns :  two  eighteen  pound  car- 
ronades,  and  one  long  nine  pounder ;  ten  stout 
fellows  and  a  black  cook  formed  her  comple- 
ment ;  the  last-mentioned  person  deserves  spe- 
cial notice,  as  he  was  a  character  strangely 
formed  by  the  alternations  of  fortune  which  he 
had  seen.  A  native  of  the  interior  of  western 
Africa,  he  had,  in  early  life,  been  chosen,  on  ac- 
count of  his  extraordinary  strength  and  courage, 
achief  of  the  Lucumi  tribe,  to  which  he  belong- 
ed ;  but  havmg  been  unfortunately  made  a  pris- 
oner, he  was  taken  down  to  the  coast  and  sold 
to  a  slaver ;  thence  he  had  been  conveyed  to 
some  of  the  Spanish  islands,  and  afterwards  to 
Virginia,  where  he  had  come  into  the  possession 
of  Colonel  Brandon,  who,  finding  him  possess- 
ed of  many  good  qualities,  and  of  a  sagacity  very 
rare  among  his  countrymen,  had  offered  him  his 
liberty  when  he  moved  to  Ohio  ;  but  Cupid  (for 
so  was  the  negro  called)  had  grown  so  much 
attached  to  his  master,  that  he  begged  to  be  al- 
lowed to  remain  in  his  service,  and  from  one 
employment  to  another,  had  now  become  cook 
and  steward  on  board  The  Pride  of  Ohio.  In 
frame  he  was  Herculean  ;  and  though  he  rarely 
exerted  his  strength,  he  had  shown  on  various 
occasions  that  it  was  nearly,  if  not  quite,  equal 
to  that  of  any  other  two  men  in  the  vessel.  He 
spoke  but  little,  and  was  sullen  and  reserved  in 
his  manners ;  but  as  he  never  disobeyed  orders, 
and  never  was  guilty  of  aggression  or  violence, 
Cupid  was,  upon  the  whole,  a  favourite  with  the 
crew. 

To  Ethelston  he  was  invaluable  ;  for  he  was 
always  at  his  post,  was  scrupulously  honest  with 
respect  to  money  or  stores  placed  under  his 
charge,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  his 
shrewdness  and  readiness  had  surprised  his 
young  commander.  The  captain  (for  so  was 
Ethelston  called  on  board)  always  treated  Cupid 
kl.ldly,  and  never  allowed  him  to  be  made  the 
subject  of  those  jeers  and  insults  to  which  free 
negroes  in  the  States  are  usually  exposed ;  on 
this  account  the  cook,  who  never  forgot  that  he 
had  been  a  warrior,  entertained  towards  him 
the  warmest  feelings  of  attachment  and  grati- 
tude. 

How  or  where  he  had  obtained  the  name  he 
bore,  none  seemed  to  know  ;  and  Ethelston  re- 
membered having  heard  that  when  first  he  came 
into  Colonel  Brandon's  possession,  and  was 
asked  his  name,  he  had  sullenly  replied,  "  The 
name  I  once  had  is  at  home :  a  slave  has  neither 
name  nor  home !"  A  terrible  gash  across  his 
lorehead  and  left  cheek  (received,  probably,  in 


the  war  when  he  was  captured)  had  disfigured 
a  countenance  that  had  been  originally  expres- 
sive of  haughtiness  and  determination,  and  had, 
perhaps,  led  the  slave-dealer  to  bestow  upon 
"him  in  irony  the  name  by  which  he  was  now 
called. 

The  Pride  of  Ohio  had  made  good  two  days 
of  her  homeward  passage,  when,  in  endeavour 
ing  to  round  a  point  on  the  southern  coast  of 
Cuba,  Ethelston  descried  a  ship  some  miles  to 
windward,  and  ahead,  which  a  careful  examina- 
tion through  his  glass  convinced  him  was  a 
French  frigate.  His  mate  being  below  at  the 
time,  he  sent  for  him  on  deck,  anxious  to  see 
whether  the  experienced  sailor's  observation 
would  confirm  his  opinion.  As  soon  as  he  ap- 
peared, handing  him  the  glass,  he  said,  "  Greg- 
son,  see  what  you  make  of  that  fellow  on  our 
larboard  bow." 

"Make  of  her!"  said  the  mate;  "the  devil 
take  him  that  made  her,  and  him  that  brought 
her  athwart  us,  say  I,  captain  !  She's  a  French- 
man ;  and  though  we  can't  well  see  her  hull  yet, 
I  doubt  it  won't  be  long  before  we  see  her  row 
of  teeth." 

"  I  thought  so  myself,"  said  Ethelston.  "  We 
must  hold  our  course  steady ;  and  if  we  can 
round  the  point,  we  may  then  bear  away,  and 
show  her  a  pair  of  heels.  Turn  the  hands  up, 
Gregson  ;  trim  the  sails,  and  stand  by  for  a  run. 
Put  Harrison  at  the  helm  ;  he  can  keep  her  a 
point  nearer  than  that  youngster." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir !"  was  the  reply ;  and  having 
executed  the  order,  he  returned  to  Ethelston, 
who  was  still  sweeping  the  southern  horizon 
with  his  glass,  and  examining  the  strange  ship, 
whose  hull  was  now  distinctly  visible. 

The  young  man's  countenance  wore  a  grave 
expression,  as,  returning  the  glass  to  his  mate, 
he  said,  "  Gregson,  it  is,  as  we  supposed,  a 
French  frigate.  We  may,  perhaps,  creep  along 
under  the  shore  without  his  noticing  our  small 
craft." 

The  old  seaman  riveted  the  glass  upon  the 
stranger,  as  if  he  wished  to  count  every  sail  and 
plank.  During  the  examination,  he  grunted  two 
or  three  inarticulate  ejaculations,  in  unison  with 
which  his  hard  features  underwent  various  con- 
tortions ;  and  his  young  commander  waited  with 
no  little  impatience  for  what  he  called  his  "  over- 
hauling." 

"  She's  neither  more  nor  Iqss  than  that  infernal 
'Epervier,'  commanded  by  L'Estrange.  She's 
one  of  the  fastest  sailers  in  their  navy  ;  and  as 
for  our  creeping  past  her  without  being  seen, 
he's  the  wrong  sort  o'  man  for  that  fun :  herring 
or  whale,  all's  fish  for  his  net !" 

"  I  have  often  heard  of  him,"  said  Ethelston 
"  they  say  he's  a  fine  fellow." 

"  That  he  is,  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  as  jolly 
an  old  dog  as  ever  lived,  and  much  too  good  a 
seaman  for  a  Mounseer.  Look'ee  there,  cap- 
tain," added  he,  after  another  squint  through  the 
glass  ;  "  he's  altering  his  course  already — two 
or  three  points  free,  and  the  reefs  shaken  out  o'  . 
the  tops'ls.     We  shall  hear  from  him  soon."       i 

"  Can  we  give  him  the  slip  by  bearing  up  for 
the  eastern  passage  1 — We  should  then  show 
him  our  tail ;  and  a  stern  chase  is  a  long  one." 
"  We  might  try  if  you  wish  it,  captain  ;  but 
it  blows  fresh,  and  she  won't  be  very  fond  ol 
this  lee  shore.    I  think,  if  you  allow  me  to  ad- 


32 


THE    PRAIRI  E-BIRD. 


wise,  we'd  better  hug  it  ;  take  the  chance  of  a 
long  shot  in  rounding  that  headland,  and  then 
run  for  the  inner  channel  behind  the  Isle  of 
Pines.  He'll  not  be  after  following  us  there  ; 
or,  if  he  does,  the  frigate's  keel  will  chance  to 
scrape  acqwaintauce  with  a  reef" 

"  You  are  right,  Gregson,"  said  Ethelston. 
•'  The  pride  may  fetch  that  point  on  this  tack. 
Keep  a  close  luff,  Harrison." 

"Luff it  is,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  as  Ethelston 
went  below  to  consult  his  chart,  and  to  prepare 
himself  for  entering  the  intricate  channel  be- 
tween the  Isla  de  Pinos  and  the  main  island. 

The  gallant  little  brig  well  sustained  her  high 
character  as  a  sailer,  and  dashed  her  bows  fear- 
lessly through  the  foaming  waves,  under  a  press 
of  canvass  such  as  few  vessels  of  her  tonnage 
could  have  borne.  The  breeze  was  freshening, 
and  the  frigate  now  shaped  her  course  with  the 
evident  intenliKn  of  cutting  off  the  chase  from 
rounding  the  headland  before  mentioned. 

The  men  on  board  the  brig  were  now  clus- 
tered forward,  anxiously  debating  the  probable 
issue  ;  while  Cucip  steamed  away  in  his  ca- 
boose, preparing  the  dinner  as  quietly  as  if  there 
had  been  no  frigate  to  windward,  nor  a  rock- 
bound  shore  to  leeward  ;  but  though  he  seemed 
thus  busied  in  his  usual  avocations,  he  cast  ev- 
ery now  and  then  his  dark  eye  upon  the  Eper- 
vier  ;  and  few  on  board  could  estimate  better 
than  himself  the  danger  of  their  situation. 

Ethelston  having  finished  a  careful  examina- 
tion of  his  chart,  now  came  on  deck,  and  a  sin- 
gle glance  sufficed  to  shew  him  that  he  could 
not  round  the  point  a-head  without  coming 
within  range  of  the  frigate's  guns:  but  the  brig 
had  kept  her  offing,  and  he  had  little  doubt  of 
her  making  good  her  escape,  unless  she  were 
crippled  by  a  shot  from  the  enemy. 

The  Epervier  now  hoisted  her  colours  for  the 
brig  to  heave-to  ;  and  tjiat  being  disregarded, 
she  fired  a  shot  which  fell  short  of  her  bows. 
Finding  that  no  notice  was  taken  of  this,  L'Es- 
trange  ordered  his  first  lieutenant  to  fire  at  the 
saucy  brig  in  good  earnest,  to  bring  her  to  her 
senses*  Fortunately  for  the  latter,  there  was 
a  short,  angry  sea  running,  and  the  distance  be- 
ing considerable,  the  first  shot  did  not  take  ef- 
fect. Several  of  the  hands  on  board  the  brig 
had  served  in  men-of-war  ;  these  were  now 
oracles  among  their  messmates,  and  they  look- 
ed with  some  anxiety  at  their  young  captain, 
curious  to  see  how  he  would  behave  under  fire, 
for  they  believed  he  had  never  smelt  powder  : 
and  although  .strict  and  firm  in  his  command, 
n<  was  usually  so  gentle  and  quiet  in  hie  man- 
ner, that  they  considerea  him  rather  a  studious 
than  a  fighting  character.  Their  curiosity  was 
not,  however,  much  gratif P''  ,•  for  Ethelston. 
without  appearing  lo  notice  the  frigate,  kept  his 
eye  steadily  fixed  on  the  cape  ahead  ;  and  after  a 
brief  silence,  he  said,  "  Gregson  there's  a  strong 
current  which  sets  in  shore  here,  '  the  Pride' 
cannot  weather  that  point  on  this  tack." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  the  mate ;  L'Es- 
trange  has  got  his  bristles  up,  he  is  nearing  us 
every  minute,  and  if  we  carry  on  this  course, 
in  another  half  hour,  both  will  go  ashore.'* 

"  Ha !"  exclaimed  the  young  captain,  the  co- 
lour rising  in  his  cheek,  as  a  sudden  thought 
flashed  across  him.     "  If  we  could  ensure  that 

oth  would  go  to  pieces  among  those  breakers, 


it  would  be  a  glorious  death  for  the  little  briy  to 

die  !" 

He  spoke  these  words  in  an  under  tone,  and 
rather  musing  to  himself  than  addressing  his 
officer.  The  latter,  however,  overheard  them, 
and  looked  at  him  with  an  astonishment  which 
he  could  not  repress  ;  for  he  also  knew  as  little 
as  the  crew,  of  the  determined  courage  that  re- 
posed under  the  calm  and  quiet  demeanour  ol 
his  young  commander.  Again  a  wreath  of 
smoke  issued  from  the  bows  of  the  frigate,  and 
a  round  shot  passed  through  the  rigging  of  the 
chase,  doing  fortunately  no  material  damage, 
but  proving  that  they  were  now  within  easy 
range. 

"  I  fear  it  will  not  do,  s^r,"  said  the  mate  in 
reply  to  Ethelston's  last  words  ;  "she  can  pep- 
er  away  at  us,  and  yet  make  her  offing  good." 

"  Then  there  remains  but  one  chance  for  us," 
said  the  captain ;  "  answer  her  signal,  show 
your  colours,  'bout  ship,  and  stand  for  the  frig- 
ate." 

The  mate  was,  if  possible,  more  surprised 
at  this  order  than  he  had  been  before  at  the  pro- 
posal to  try  and  cast  both  vessels  ashore  ;  but 
be  was  too  good  a  seaman  to  hesitate  or  to  ask 
any  questions  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  gal- 
lant little  brig  had  answered  the  signal,  and 
was  standing  out  towards  the  frigate  on  the 
starboard  tack. 

We  will  now  transport  the  reader  for  a  few 
minutes  on  board  Epervier,  and  make  him  ac- 
quainted with  the  captain,  into  whose  clutches 
the  poor  little  brig  seemed  destined  to  fall. 
•  L'Estrange  was  a  fine-looking,  middle-aged 
man,  who  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
at  sea,  and  had  married,  when  very  young,  a 
Spanish  creole,  whose  beauty  was  her  only 
dower;  he  had  several  children  by  this  marriage 
the  eldest  of  whom  was  now  a  lieutenant  on 
board  his  ship;  the  remainder  of  the  family  re- 
sided at  Point  a  Pitre,  in  Guadaloupe,  for  the 
captain  was  in  truth  rather  of  the  '  ancien  re- 
gime ;'  he  loved  his  country,  but  he  hated  the 
Directory  and  other  fruits  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution ;  so  that  he  never  went  to  Europe,  and 
would  have  been  but  rarely  employed  had  he 
not  been  known  to  be  one  of  the  most  skilful 
and  experienced  officers  in  the  French  navy. 
Such  was  the  man  who  now  stood  on  the  frig- 
ate's quarter-deck,  and  after  examining  "  The 
Pride"  again  through  his  glass,  turned  to  his 
first-lieutenant  and  desired  him  to  cease  firing. 
"  That  obstinate  trader,"  he  added,  "  seemed 
very  anxious  to  escape,  and  thought  but  little 
of  the  risk  she  ran  of  going  ashore,  or  of  being 
riddled  by  our  shot  !"  „ 

"  She's  one  of  those  saucy  Americans,"  said 
the  lieutenant,  "  that  think  nothing  afloat  can 
match  'em  ;  however  she's  made  a  mistake  this 
time,  and  I  hope,  sir,  when  she's  overhauled, 
she'll  prove  worth  the  trouble  she's  given  !" 

The  frigate,  by  this  time,  finding  hersell  too 
close  in  on  a  lee  shore,  hauled  to  the  wind,  and 
disliking  the  broken  and  rugged  appearance  of 
the  coast,  determined  not  to  lie-to  for  the  bng 
until  she  had  made  sufficient  offing.  This  was 
precisely  the  calculation  that  Ethelston  had 
made  ;  and  he  now  paced  his  deck  with  a  calm 
and  satisfied  countenance,  whde  his  men, 
grouped  on  the  forecastle,  were  quite  at  a  loss 
to  discover  his  intentions ;  the  mate,  howeve* 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


33 


was  clearer  sighted,  and  could  not  withhold  his  ' 
admiration  from  the  decision  and  boldness  of  a 
manoeuvre,  the  success  of  which  must  soon  be 
tested. 

The  captain  of  the  frigate  went  below  to  din- 
ner, having  given  orders  to  the  lieutenant  to 
stand  out  on  the  same  tack  for  another  half  hour, 
then  to  lie-to  until  the  brig  should  come  along- 
side. 

Meantime,  Ethelston,  who  had  kept  his  eye 
fixed  upon  the  head-land  so  often  mentioned, 
muttering  to  himself,  "she  will  fetch  it  now," 
deyired  the  man  at  the  helm,  to  yaw  the  brig 
about,  to  throw  her  up  now  and  then  in  tbe 
wind,  so  as  to  fall  astern  of  the  frigate  as  much 
as  possible,  yet  not  apparently  varying  the 
course.  Having  done  so  as  long  as  he  judged 
it  practicable  without  awakening  tlie  enemy's 
suspicion,  he  saw,  to  his  inexpressible  delight, 
the  frigate  shorten  sail  to  enable  him  to  come 
up  ;  instantly  seizing  this  advantage,  he  order- 
ed his  mate  to  put  the  brig  about,  and  run  for 
the  Isle  of  Pines.  It  may  well  be  imagined  that 
this  bold  manoeuvre  was  not  many  moments  un- 
perceived  onboard  the  frigate  ;  and  L'Estrange's 
astonishment  was  great,  wiien  from  the  noise 
overhead,  and  from  the  heeling  of  the  ship,  he 
found  that  her  course  was  altered.  Springing 
on  deck,  he  saw  that  he  had  been  outwitted  by 
the  saucy  brig,  which  was  crowding  all  sail, 
and  seemed  not  unlikely  to  effect  her  escape. 
The  old  captain  chafed,  and  stormed,  and  swore 
that  the  obstinate  little  trader  should  pay  dear- 
ly for  her  insolence. 

The  Epervier  was  a  fast  sailer,  and  as  she 
DOW  dashed  the  spray  from  her  hows  under  a 
cress  of  canvass,  it  was  soon  evident  that  tlie 
Dug  could  not  yet  round  the  point  without  com- 
ng  within  range  of  her  guns. 

Ethelslon's  mind  was  now  made  up;  and 
finding  his  men  cheerful  and  inspirited  by  the 
Buccess  of  his  manoeuvre,  he  yet  hoped  to  bring 
his  vessel  into  the  intricate  channel  behind  the 
island,  where  the  frigate  would  not  venture  to 
follow  ;  it  was  not  long  before  she  again  saluted 
him,  and  one  of  the  shot  passing  llirough  the 
brig's  bulwarks  close  to  him,  shivered  the  bin- 
nacle into  a  hundred  pieces.  Observing  symp- 
toms of  uneasiness  in  the  man  at  the  helm,  and 
that  he  swerved  from  the  course,  Ethelston 
gave  him  a  stern  reproof,  and  again  desired 
Harrison  to  come  to  the  helm.  The  frigate, 
which  still  held  the  weather-gage,  seemed  now 
resolved  to  cut  off  the  brig  from  the  headland, 
and  to  sink  her  if  she  attempted  to  weather  it. 
Ethelston  saw  his  full  danger,  and  was  prepared 
lo  meet  it ;  had  he  commanded  a  vessel  of  war, 
faowever  small,  he  would  not  have  shrunk  from 
the  respiinsihiliiy  he  was  about  to  incur ;  but, 
remembering  that  his  little  brig  was  but  a  trader, 
and  that  the  crew  ought  not  to  be  exposed  with- 
out their  own  consent  to  danger  so  imminent 
as  that  before  them,  he  desired  firegson  to  call 
them  aft,  when  he  addressed  them  as  follows  : 
"  My  lads, — you  see  the  scrape  we  are  in  ;  if 
«ve  can  round  that  point  we  may  yet  escape  hut 
lo  do  so,  we  must  run  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  the  frigate's  broadside.  What  say  you, 
iny  lads,  shall  we  strike,  or  stand  the  chance  \ 
— a  French  prison,  or  hurrah  for  the  Balise!" 

"Hunah  for  the  Balise,"  shouted  the  men, 
anmialed  by  their  young  commander's  words 


and  by  his  fearless  bearing ;  so  the  little  brig 
held  on  her  way. 

A  few  minutes  proved  that  he  had  neither 
magnified  nor  underrated  the  danger;  his  chart 
gave  him  deep  water  round  the  headland  ;  and 
he  now  ordered  Harrison  to  keep  her  away,  and 
let  her  run  close  in  shore,  thereby  increasing  her 
speed,  and  the  distance  from  the  enemy. 

The  surprise  and  wrath  of  L'Estrange,  at  the 
impudent  daring  of  a  craft  which  he  now  per- 
ceived to  be  really  nothing  but  an  insignificant 
trader,  are  not  to  be  described.  He  bore  up 
after  her,  and  having  desired  the  men  to  stand 
to  their  guns,  generously  determined  to  give  the 
saucy  chase  one  more  chance,  but  finding  his 
repeated  signal  for  her  to  heave-to,  disregarded, 
he  reluctantly  gave  the  order  to  fire.  Fortunate- 
ly for  "The  Pride,"  the  sea  was  running  high, 
and  naval  gunnery  had  not  then  reached  the 
perfection  which  it  has  since  attained ;  and 
though  her  rigging  was  cut  up  from  stem  to 
stern,  and  her  fore-topmast  was  shot  away,  and 
though  she  received  several  shot  in  her  hull,  she 
still  answered  her  helm,  and  gallantly  rounding 
the  point,  ran  in  shore,  and  was  in  a  few  min- 
utes among  shoals  which,  to  her  light  draught, 
were  not  dangerous,  hut  where  it  would  have 
been  madness  in  the  frigate  to  follow. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Ethelston's  further  Adventures  at  sea,  and  how  he  bo 
came  Captor  and  Captive  in  a  very  sliort  space  of  time 

It  seemed  almost  miraculous  that  not  a  maa 
on  the  "Pride  of  the  Ohio"  was  killed  by  the 
frigate's  broadside,  nor  was  one  wounded,  ex 
cepting  Ethelston,  who  received  a  slight  hi\rt  in 
the  left  arm  from  a  splinter ;  but  he  paid  no  at- 
tention to  it,  and  calmly  gave  all  the  requisite 
orders  for  repairing  the  damaged  spars  and  rig 

ging- 

As  soon  as  all  was  made  snug,  he  let  the  men 
go  below  to  dinner,  and  leaning  over  the  shiver- 
ed bulwarks  of  his  little  craft,  seemed  busily  em- 
ployed in  counting  the  shot  that  had  struck  her; 
liut  his  eyes  were  for  a  time  fixed  upon  the  wa- 
ter, through  which  she  was  cutting  her  easy 
way,  and  his  thoughts  were  afar  off,  as  he  whis- 
pered almost  audibly  to  himself,  "  Dear,  dear 
Lucy — your  namesake  is  wounded  and  disfig- 
ured, but  she  is  not  disgraced.  Thank  Heaven, 
no  Frenchman's  foot  has  yet  trodden  her  deck, 
and — " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  Gregson,  who 
having  been  carefully  observing  the  frigate 
through  his  glass,  came  up  to  him,  and  said, 
"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  she  is  getting  ready  her 
boats,  and  the  breeze  is  fai-ling  fast ;  in  another 
hour  we  shall  have  scarce  a  cat's  paw. 

Ethelston  started  from  his  short  reverie,  and 
immediately  convinced  himself  that  the  mate 
spoke  the  truth  •.  "  You  are  right,"  said  he, 
"  but  we  have  a  good  hour  to  spare,  for  the  frig- 
ate is  nearly  becalmed.  Let  the  men  have  their 
dinner  quietly,  say  nothing  to  them  about  tte 
matter,  and  give  'em  an  extra  glass  of  grog  ;  but 
no  drnnkenness,  Gregson  ;  they  may  want  the 
full  use  of  their  heads  and  hands  to-night ;  send 
Cupid  to  my  cabin,  and  tell  him  to  bring  me  a 
slice  of  cold  meat  and  a  glass  of  Madeira  " 


34 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


So  saying,  he  went  below ;  tlip  mate  looked 
ifler  him,  and  turning  liis  quid  three  or  four 
times  in  his  clieek,  lie  muttered,  "  Damme  if  he 
makes  any  more  count  of  the  frigate's  guns  or 
boats  than  a  bear  does  of  a  beehive  !  They 
spoilt  as  good  a  commodore  as  ever  stepped  a 
decii  when  they  made  a  trading-skipper  of  liim." 
Having  vented  this  characteristic  encomium  on 
his  young  commander,  the  old  seaman  went  for- 
\v\rd  to  execute  his  orders. 

Meanwhile  iithelston,  consulting  his  chart, 
found  that  the  reefs  and  shoals  as  laid  down, 
rendered  the  navigation  of  the  coast  extremely 
dangerous  even  for  the  ligia  draught  of  his  brig"; 
having  only  allowed  himself  a  few  minutes  for 
refreshment,  he  again  went  on  deck,  and  ob- 
eerving  the  frigate  still  becalmed,  he  ordered  the 
mate  to  shorten  sail,  take  soundings,  and  to  de- 
sire the  carpenter  to  make  a  report  of  the  leak- 
age, or  any  other  serious  injury  sustained  by  the 
frigate's  shot. 

During  this  time  L'Estrange  was  not  idle  on 
board  the  "  Epervier."  Nettled  at  the  success- 
ful trick  played  upon  him,  he  resolved  as  the 
breeze  gradually  died  away  to  capture  the  chase 
with  his  boats  ;  for  this  duly  the  launch  and  the 
pinnace  were  assigned  :  the  former  had  a  car- 
ronade  and  twenty-five  hands,  and  was  com- 
manded by  his  son  ;  the  latter  had  a  swivel,  and 
thirteen  hands,  commanded  by  a  junior  lieuten- 
ant. The  object  of  L'Ebtrange  being  to  prevent 
an  unnecessary  effusion  of  blood,  by  sending  a 
force  strong  enough  to  render  resistance  hope- 
less on  the  part  of,  what  he  called,  a  dirty  little 
sugar-boat.  The  crew  of  The  Pride  of  Ohio, 
elated  by  the  success  of  tlieir  Captain's  man- 
oeuvre, and  exhilarated  by  the  extra  grog  served 
out,  were  in  high  good  humour,  and  laughing 
ever  the  events  of  the  morning  with  reckless 
merriment,  when  they  received  an  order  from 
Ethelston  to  come  aft.  On  their  obeying  the 
summons,  he  again  addressed  them  as  follows  : 

"My  lads,  you  have  thus  far  done  your  duty 
like  men  ;  but  our  work  is  not  yet  over.  The 
Epervier  is  determined  to  sink  or  capture  our 
little  craft ;  she  is  now  getting  out  her  boats  for 
that  service  ;  if  we  resist,  we  shall  have  warm 
work  of  it ;  if  we  strike  without  a  fight,  we  may 
rol  in  a  French  dungeon.  Again  I  ask  you,  my 
lads,  will  you  stick  by  The  Pride,  and  hurrah 
for  home,  or  a  sailor's  grave  !" 

A  hearty  and  simultaneous  cheer  from  the 
crew  was  the  only  reply. 

"  I  knew  it,  my  lads,"  continued  Ethelston, 
his  countenance,  usually  so  calm,  now  glowing 
with  enthusiasm,  "  I  knew  that  you  would  not 
desert  her  while  she  could  float !  It  is  now  my 
duty  to  tell  you  that  she  has  received  two  awk- 
ward shots  just  between  wind  and  water  line, 
and  that  she  leaks  apace.  We  must  stop  them 
as  well  as  we  may ;  but  be  prepared  for  the 
boats  of  the  Epervier  ; — they  shall  at  least  buy 
ua  a  dear  bargain  !" 

Ethelston  now  called  the  mate,  and  gave  him 
full  instructions  for  the  plan  of  defence  from  the 
expected  attack.  The  long  gun  and  the  carron- 
ades  were  got  ready  and  loaded,  the  former  with 
round  shot,  the  latter  with  grape ;  small  arms 
and  cutlasses  were  served  out  to  the  men,  and 
the  deck  clcartd  of  everything  that  might  im- 
pede them  in  the  approaching  struggle.  Mean- 
time Ethelston  ordered  to  be  hoisted  a  new  en- 


sign, given  to  the  biig  by  Lucy,  and  said  to  be 
partly  worked  by  her  own  fair  fingers.  As  sof)M 
as  it  was  run  up,  he  sent  aloft  a  boy,  with  ordeis 
to  nail  it  to  tlie  mast-head,  which  was  done 
amid  the  repeated  cheers  of  the  crew.  They 
were  not  long  kept  in  suspense  ;  the  breeze  had 
died  away :  the  flapping  sails  and  creaking 
yards  gave  the  usual  sullen  indications  of  a 
calm,  when  the  boats  from  the  Epervier  advan- 
ced at  a  steady  and  measured  stroke  towards 
the  brig.  Ethelston  gave  the  long  gun  to  the 
charge  of  Gregson,  reserving  to  himself  that  of 
the  carronades ;  he  issued  also  special  orders 
not  to  fire,  under  any  circumstances,  until  he 
gave  the  word,  or  in  case  he  fell,  until  they  re- 
ceived the  order  from  Gregson,  who  wo"ld  suc- 
ceed him  in  the  command. 

During  ail  these  preparations,  Cupid  ap,  "^ared 
indifferent  to  what  was  passing,  and  conlmued 
busily  occupied  with  his  pots  and  pans  in  the 
caboose.  This  conduct  caused  some  little  sur- 
prise in  Ethelston,  who  knew  that  the  black  was 
not  the  stupid  phlegmatic  character  that  he  now 
seemed  ;  and  he  accordingly  sent  Gregson  to 
inquire  whether,  in  the  event  of  an  attack  from 
the  frigate's  boats,  he  meant  to  fight  ?  desiring 
the  mate  at  the  same  time  to  offer  him  a  cutlass. 
The  African  grinned  when  he  received  this  mes- 
sage, and  replied  that  he  meant  to  do  his  best. 
He  declined,  however,  the  proffered  cutlass,  in- 
forming the  nriale,  that  he  had  got  a  toasting- 
fork  of  his  own,  ready  for  the  Mounseers  ;  as  he 
said  this,  he  showed  him  the  fragment  of  a  cap- 
stan-bar, the  end  of  which  he  had  sharpened 
and  burnt  hard  in  the  hot  cinders;  it  was  an 
unwieldly  kind  of  club,  and  in  the  hands  of  an 
ordinary  man,  could  have  been  but  of  little  ser- 
vice ;  but  his  gigantic  strength  enabled  him  to 
wield  it  like  a  common  cudgel.  The  truth  is, 
that  Cupid  would  have  preferred  being  armed 
with  cutlass  and  pistol,  both  of  which  he  could 
use  as  well  as  any  man  on  board  ;  but  he  had 
tact  enough  to  knov,'  that  the  prejudice  against 
his  colour  forbad  his  taking  his  place  on  deck 
among  the  other  defenders  of  the  vessel. 

The  boats  being  now  within  hail.  Lieutenant 
L'Estrange  stood  up  in  the  launch  and  ordered 
the  brig  to  strike  her  colours,  and  receive  him 
on  board.  Finding  this  order  unheeded,  he  re- 
peated it  through  the  trumpet  in  a  sterner  tone, 
adding  that,  if  not  immediately  obeyed,  he 
should  fire  upon  her.  Not  a  man  stirred  on 
board  the  brig,  neither  was  any  reply  made  to 
the  lieutenant,  who  forthwith  discharged  the 
contents  of  his  carronade  into  her  hull,  by  which 
one  man  was  killed  dead,  and  two  were  wound- 
ed by  splinters  ;  he  then  desired  hi?  men  to  pull 
hard  for  the  brig  to  board  her,  while  others  had 
orders  to  fire  small  arms  at  all  whom  they  could 
see  above  the  bulwarks.  The  boats  had  ap- 
proached within  fifty  yards  before  Ethelston 
gave  the  word  to  fire.  Gregson  pointed  the 
long  gun  upon  the  smaller  boat  with  so  true  an 
aim  that  the  heavy  shot  went  clean  through  her, 
and  she  filled  and  went  down  in  a  few  minutes, 
the  survivors  of  her  crew  being  picked  up  by 
the  launch.  Meanwhile,  Ethelston  fired  a  vol- 
ley of  grape  into  the  latter  with  terrible  effect, 
several  being  killed  on  the  spot,  and  many 
of  the  remainder  severely  wounded.  Nothing 
daunted  by  this  murderous  fire,  the  gallant 
young  lieutenant  held  on  his  way  to  the  brig 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


35 


and  again  discharging  his  carronade  at  the  dis- 
tance of  only  a  few  yards,  her  timbers  were 
fearfully  rent,  and  amidst  the  smoke  and  confu- 
sion thereby  cieated,  he  and  his  crew  scrar-ubled 
up  her  sides  to  board.  The  combat  was  now 
hand  to  hand  ;  nor  was  it  very  uneriual,  so 
many  of  the  Frenchmen  liaving  been  killed  and 
wounded  in  the  boats  ;  they  were  strong  enough, 
however,  to  make  good  their  footing  on  deck, 
and  inch  by  inch,  they  forced  back  the  crew  of 
the  brig.  Ethelston  fought  with  the  courage  of 
a  lion  ;  his  voice  was  heard  above  the  din  of  the 
fray,  animating  his  men  ;  and  several  of  the 
boldest  of  the  enemy  had  already  felt  the  edge 
of  his  c-jilass.  Nor  was  young  L'Estrange  less 
gallant  in  his  attack,  and  his  followers  being 
more  numerous  than  their  opponents,  drove 
them  back  gradually  by  main  force.  It  was  at 
this  moment,  that  Cupid,  who  had  hitherto  re- 
mained unnoticed  in  his  caboose,  thought  fit  to 
commence  his  operations  ;  which  he  did  by 
tlirowing  a  great  pan  of  greasy  boiling  water 
over  three  or  four  of  the  assailants,  and  then 
laying  about  him  with  his  huge  club,  which  fell- 
ed a  man  almost  at  every  blow.  The  excrucia- 
ting pain  occasioned  by  the  hot  liquid,  together 
with  the  consternation  produced  by  this  unex- 
pected attack  in  their  rear,  completed  the  dis- 
may of  the  Frenchmen.  At  this  crisis  young 
L'Estrange  slipped  and  fell  on  the  deck  ;  Greg- 
son,  bestriding  him,  was  about  to  dispatch  him, 
when  Ethelston,  who  was  already  bleeding  from 
a  severe  cutlass  wound  in  the  forehead,  rushed 
forward  to  save  him  ;  but  the  infuriated  youth, 
perhaps  mistaking  his  intention,  drew  his  last 
remaining  pistol,  and  fired  with  so  true  an  aim, 
that  Elhelston's  left  arm  fell  powerless  at  his 
tide.  A  flush  of  anger  came  over  his  counte- 
nance ;  but  seeing  Gregson  again  raising  his 
nand  to  dispatch  the  young  officer,  he  again  in- 
^rposcd,  and  desired  the  mate  to  spare  him, — 
;n  order  which  the  seaman  reluctantly  obeyed. 

Ethelston  now  entreated  L'Estrange  to  give 
up  his  sword,  and  to  save  farther  bloodshed ; 
md  the  young  man,  seeing  that  his  followers 
ivere  mostly  overpowered  and  wounded,  pre- 
sented it  with  a  countenance  in  which  grief  and 
shame  were  blended  with  indignation.  "  Stay," 
«aid  Ethelston  ;  "  before  I  receive  your  sword, 
Jhe  conditions  on  which  I  receive  it  are,  that 
you  give  your  parole,  that  neither  you  nor  any 
one  of  your  men  shall  bear  arms  against  the 
United  States,  during  the  continuance  of  this 
war,  whether  you  and  I  are  recaptured  or  not ; 
and  the  launch  becomes  my  prize." 

To  these  terms  the  youth  assented,  and  or- 
dered such  of  his  men  as  were  not  quite  disa- 
bled, to  lay  dov/a  their  arms.  In  a  few  min- 
utes, all  who  were  unhurt  were  busily  engaged 
in  tending  the  dying  and  v.-ounded.  Fortunate- 
ly an  assistant-surgeon,  who  had  volunteered 
on  this  service  from  the  frigate,  was  among 
those  unhurt,  and  he  set  about  his  professional 
duties  with  as  much  alacrity  as  if  he  had  been 
in  the  ward  of  a  hospital.  Cupid  retreated 
quietly  to  his  caboose,  and  Ethelston  continued 
giving  his  orders  with  the  same  clearness  and 
decisiori  that  had  marked  his  whole  conduct. 
Young  DEstrange  looked  over  the  brig's  low 
sides  into  the  water;  his  heart  was  too  full  for 
utterance ;  and  his  captor,  with  considerate 
kindne  .     b&iaiittxi from  addressing  him.    The 


surgeon,  observing  that  the  blood  still  flowed 
from  tlie  wound  on  Ethelston's  forehead,  and 
that  his  left  arm  hung  at  his  side,  now  came  and 
offered  his  services.  Thanking  him  courteous- 
ly, he  replied,  smiling,  "  I  took  my  chance  of 
wounds  on  equal  terms  with  those  brave  fel- 
lows, and  I  will  take  my  chance  of  cure  on  equal 
terms  also  ;  when  you  have  attended  to  all  those 
who  are  more  seriously  hurt,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
avail  myself  of  your  skill." 

The  surgeon  bowed  and  withdrew.  An  audi- 
ble groan  burst  from  the  unhappy  L'Estrange, 
but  still  he  spoke  not ;  and  Ethelston  held  a 
brief  consultation  with  his  mate  and  the  car- 
penter, the  result  of  which  was,  an  order  given 
to  the  former,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  "  to  pre- 
pare immediately,  and  to  send  Cupid  to  him  ir» 
the  cabin." 

As  he  was  going  down,  L'Estrange  came  to 
him,  and  asked  him,  confusedly,  and  with  an 
averted  countenance,  if  he  might  speak  to  him 
alone  for  a  minute.  Ethelston  begged  him  to 
follow  him  into  his  cabin,  when,  having  shut 
the  door,  he  said,  "  M.  L'Estrange,  we  are 
alone,  pray  speak ;  is  there  anything  in  which 
i  can  serve  you." 

The  youth  gazed  on  him  for  a  moment,  in  an 
agony  that  could  not  yet  find  relief  in  words, 
and  then  falling  on  the  floor,  burst  into  a  flood 
of  tears.  Ethelston  was  moved  and  surprised 
at  this  violent  grief  in  one  whom  he  had  so 
lately  seen  under  the  influence  of  pride  and 
passion.  Taking  him  kindly  by  the  hand,  he 
said,  "Pray  compose  yourself!  these  are  mis- 
fortunes to  which  all  brave  men  are  liable. 
You  did  all  that  a  gallant  officer  could  do  ;— 
success  is  at  the  disposal  of  a  higher  power ; 
you  will  meet  it  another  day." 

"  Never,  never  !"  said  the  young  lieutenant, 
vehemently  ;  "  the  loss  of  my  boat  is  nothing  ; 
the  failure  of  our  attack  is  nothing;  but  I  am  a 
dishonoured  coward,  and  Heaven  itself  cannot 
restore  a  tainted  honour  I" 

"  Nay,  nay,"  replied  Ethelston  ;  "  you  must 
not  say  so.  I  maintain  that  you  and  your  crew 
fought  gallantly  till  every  hope  of  success  was 
gone— the  bravest  can  do  no  morel" 

"  You  are  blindly  generous,"  said  the  youth, 
passionately  ;  "  you  will  not  understand  me  ! 
When  every  hope  was  gone — when  I  lay  at 
the  mercy  of  your  mate's  cutlass — ^you  sprang 
forward  to  save  my  life. — I,  like  a  savage — a 
monster — a  coward  as  I  am, — fired  and  tried  to 
kill  you  ; — even  then,  without  a  word  of  anger 
or  reproach,  you,  although  wounded  by  my  pis- 
tol, again  interposed,  and  saved  me  from  the 
death  I  deserved.  Oh,  would  that  I  had  died 
an  hundred  deaths  rather  than  have  lived  to 
such  disgrace !" 

And  again  the  unhappy  young  officer  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  while  his  whole  frame 
still  trembled  convulsively  with  grief.  Ethel" 
ston  used  every  exertion  to  soothe  ai^d  allay 
his  agitation.  He  assured  him  that  f'  «  wound 
he  had  received  was  not  serious,  tb'; :  •  'ue  pistol 
was  fired  under  a  strong  exciteme  \  .'r.d  in  the 
turmoil  of  a  bloody  fray,  when  no  r-^n's  thoughts 
are  sufficiently  collected  to  regi  ate  r.'s  con- 
duct ;  and  he  forgave  him  so  frcv  ly  and  min- 
gled his  forgiveness  with  so  many  expressions 
of  kindness  and  esteem,  that  he  succeeded  at 
length  in  restoring  him  to  a  certain  degree  o. 


36 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


composure.  Nothing,  however,  would  satisfy 
L'Estrange  but  that  he  should  have  his  wounds 
instantly  dressed  ;  and  he  ran  himself  and  sum- 
moned the  surgeon,  resolving  to  be  present  at 
the  operation. 

When  Ethelston's  clothes  were  removed,  it 
appeared  that  besides  a  few  flesh  cuts  of  no 
great  consequence,  he  had  received  two  severe 
shot  wounds :  one  from  a  musket-ball,  which 
had  sunk  deep  into  the  left  shoulder,  the  other 
from  L'Estrange's  pistol,  by  which  the  bone  of 
the  left  arm  was  broken.  The  latter  was  soon 
set  and  bandaged  ;  but  the  ball  could  not  be 
extracted  from  the  former,  either  because  the 
surgeon's  skill  was  not  equal  to  the  task,  or 
from  his  not  having  with  him  the  instruments 
requisite  for  the  operation.  As  soon  as  this 
was  over,  Ethclston  dismissed  the  surgeon  ; 
and  turning  good-liumouredly  to  L'Estrange, 
he  said,  "  Now,  my  young  friend,  I  want  your 
assistance  I  must  lose  no  time  in  putting  all 
our  men  aboard  the  launch,  and  taking  in  as 
many  stores  and  necessaries  as  she  will  hold, 
for  this  brig  is  doomed ;  your  swivel  and  the 
frigate's  guns  have  finished  her;  she  is  fast 
settling  down,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  I  expect 
her  to  sink." 

"  On  my  word,  sir,"  said  L'Estrange,  "  you 
will  pardon  me  if  I  say,  that  you  are  the  stran- 
gest gentleman  that  I  ever  yet  knew  to  com- 
mand a  trading  brig  !  You  out-manoeuvre  a 
frigate,  capture  her  boats,  fight  as  if  you  had 
done  nothing  but  fight  all  your  life,  sit  as  quiet 
under  that  surgeon's  probes  and  tortures  as  if 
you  were  eating  your  dinner,  and  now  talk 
calmly  of  scuttling  your  brig,  for  which  you 
have  run  all  these  risks  !" 

"  It  is  my  philosophy,  Monsieur  I'Estrange.  I 
tried  first  to  get  away  without  figtiting  ;  when 
that  was  impossible,  I  fiiught  as  well  as  I  could. 
What  has  happened  since,  and  what  is  yet  to 
come,  I  bear  as  well  as  I  can  !  All  that  I  ask 
of  you  is  to  keep  your  fellows  in  order,  and 
make  them  assist  mine  in  removing  the  wound- 
ed and  the  requisite  stores  on  board  the  launch." 
So  saying,  and  again  saluting  his  prisoner,  he 
went  on  deck. 

Though  he  struggled  thus  manfully  against 
his  emotion,  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that 
Ethelslon  prepared  to  bid  a  final  adieu  to  his 
little  vessel,  which  he  loved  much  for  her  own 
sake, — more  perhaps  for  the  name  she  bore. 
Whde  giving  the  necessary  orders  for  this 
melancholy  duty,  his  attention  was  called  by 
Gregson  to  a  sail  that  was  coming  up  with  tiie 
light  evening  breeze  astern.  One  look  through 
the  glass  sufficed  to  shew  him  that  she  hoisted 
French  colours ;  and  L'Estrange,  who  now 
came  on  deck,  immediately  knew  her  to  be  the 
Hirondelle, — an  armed  cutter  that  acted  on  this 
cruise  as  a  tender  to  ttie  Epervier.  A  momen- 
tary glow  overspread  the  countenance  of  Ethcl- 
ston, as  he  felt  that  resistance  was  hopeless, 
and  that  in  another  hour  his  brig  would  be  sunk, 
and  his  brave  crew  prisoners.  But  being  too 
proud  to  allow  the  French  ofTicer  to  see  his 
emotion,  he  controlled  it  by  a  powerful  effort, 
and  continued  to  give  his  orders  with  his  accus- 
tomed coolness  and  precision. 

Though  young  L'Estrange's  heart  beat  high 
at  this  sudden  and  unlooked-for  deliverance,  he 
could  not  forbear  bis  admiration  at  his  captor's 


self-possession  ;  and  his  own  joy  was  damped 
by  the  remembrance  of  that  portion  »)f  his  own 
conduct  which  he  had  so  deeply  lamented,  and 
also  of  the  parole  he  had  given  not  to  bear  arms 
again  during  the  war.  Meantime  the  removal 
of  the  men,  the  stores,  provisions,  and  papers 
from  the  brig  went  on  with  the  greatest  order 
and  dispatch. 

Ethelston  was  the  last  to  leave  her ;  previous 
to  his  doing  so,  he  made  the  carpenter  knock 
out  the  oakum  and  other  temporary  plugs  with 
which  he  had  stopped  the  leaks,  being  deter- 
mined that  she  should  not  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  French.  This  being  completed,  the  launch 
shoved  off;  and  while  pulling  heavily  for  the 
shore,  the  crew  looked  in  gloomy  silence  at 
their  ill  fated  brig.  Ethelston  was  almost  un- 
manned ;  for  his  heart  and  his  thoughts  were 
on  Ohio's  banks,  and  he  could  not  separate  the 
recollections  of  Lucy  from  the  untimely  fate  of 
her  favourite  vessel.  He  gazed  untd  his  sight 
and  brain  grew  dizzy  ;  he  fancied  that  he  saw 
Lucy's  form  on  the  deck  of  the  brig,  and  that 
she  stretched  her  arms  to  him  for  aid.  Even 
while  he  thus  h)oked,  the  waters  poured  fast 
into  their  victim.  She  settled, — sank  ;  and  in 
a  few  minutes  scarce  a  bubble  on  their  surface 
told  where  the  Pride  of  Ohio  had  gone  down ! 
A  groan  burst  from  Ethelston's  bosom.  Nature 
could  no  longer  endure  the  accumulated  weight 
of  fatigue  and  mtense  pain  occasioned  by  his 
wounds  :  he  sank  down  insensible  in  the  boat, 
and  \^'hen  he  recovered  his  senses,  found  him- 
self a  prisoner  on  board  the  Hirondelle. 

Great  had  been  the  surprise  of  the  lieutenant 
who  commanded  her  at  the  disappearance  of 
the  brig  which  he  had  been  sent  to  secure  ;  and 
greater  still  at  the  condition  of  the  persons 
found  on  board  the  launch.  His  inquiries  were 
answered  by  young  L'Estrange  with  obvious 
reluctance  :  so  having  paid  the  last  melancholy 
duties  to  the  dead,  and  afforded  all  the  assist- 
ance in  his  power  to  the  wounded,  he  put  about 
the  cutter,  and  made  sail  fpr  the  Epervier. 

As  soon  as  young  L'Estrange  found  himself 
on  the  frigate's  deck,  he  asked  for  an  immedi- 
ate and  private  audience  of  his  father,  to  whom 
he  detailed  without  reserve  ail  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  late  expedition.  He  concluded  his 
narration  with  the  warmest  praises  of  Ethel- 
ston's courage,  conduct,  and  humanity,  while 
he  repeated  that  bitter  censure  of  his  own  beha- 
viour which  he  had  before  expressed  on  board 
the  Pride  of  Ohio.  The  gallant  old  Captain, 
though  mortified  at  the  failure  of  the  enterprise 
and  the  loss  of  men  that  he  had  sustained,  could 
not  but  appreciate  the  candour,  and  feel  for  the 
mortification  of  his  favourite  son  ;  and  he  readi- 
ly promised  that  Ethelston  should  be  treated 
with  the  greatest  care  and  kindness,  and  that 
the  most  favourable  terms,  consistent  with  his 
duty,  should  be  offered  to  tlie  prisoners. 

Young  L'Estrange  gave  up  his  own  berth  to 
Ethelston,  whose  severe  sufferings  had  been 
succeeded  by  a  weakness  and  lethargy  yet  more 
dangerous.  The  surgeon  was  ordered  to  at- 
tend him  ;  and  his  care  was  extended  to  all  the 
wounded,  without  distinction  ol  country. 

After  a  few  days  Captain  I'Estrange  deter- 
mined to  exchange  Gregson,  the  mate,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  brig's  crew,  for  some  French 
prisoners  lately  taken  by  an  American  priva- 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


37 


.leer;  they  were  accordingly  placed  for  tliat 
purpose  on  boird  the  cutler,  and  sent  to  New- 
Orleans.  Young  L'Eslrange  having  learned 
from  the  mate  the  address  of  Colonel  Biandon 
and  his  connection  with  Ethelston,  wrote  him  a 
letter,  in  whieli  he  mentioned  the  latter  in  the 
highest  and  most  affectionate  terms,  assuring 
the  Colonel  that  he  should  be  treated  as  if  he 
were  his  own  brother ;  and  that,  although  the 
danger  arising  from  his  wounds  rendered  it  ab- 
solutely necessary  that  he  should  return  to 
Guadaloupe  with  the  frigate,  his  friends  might 
rely  upon  his  being  tended  with  the  same  care 
as  if  he  had  been  at  home.  Cupid,  at  his  own 
urgent  entreaty,  remained  with  his  master,  tak- 
ing charge  of  all  his  private  baggage  and  papers. 

We  need  not  follow  the  fate  of  the  cutter  any 
farther  than  to  say  that  she  reached  her  desti- 
nation in  safety  ;  that  the  proposed  exchange 
■was  effected,  and  the  prisoners  restored  to 
their  respective  homes. 

The  surgeon  on  board  the  Epervier  succeeded 
at  length  in  taking  out  the  ball  lodged  in  Eihel- 
ston's  shoulder,  and  when  they  arrived  at  Gua- 
daloupe, he  pronounced  his  patient  out  of  dan- 
ger, but  enjoined  the  strictest  quiet  and  con- 
tinement,  till  his  recovery  should  be  farther 
advanced.  The  ardent  young  L'Estrange  no 
sooner  reached  home  than  he  prevailed  on  his 
father  to  receive  Ethelston  into  his  own  house. 
He  painted  to  his  sister  Nina,  a  girl  of  seven- 
teen, the  sufferings  and  the  heroism  of  their 
guest,  in  the  most  glowing  colours  ;  he  made 
her  prepare  for  him  the  most  refreshing  and  re- 
storing beverages  ;  he  watched  for  hours  at  the 
side  of  his  couch  ;  in  short,  he  lavished  upon 
him  all  those  marks  of  affection  with  which  a 
hasty  and  generous  nature  loves  to  make  repa- 
ration for  a  wrong.  In  all  these  attentions  and 
endeavours,  he  was  warmly  seconded  by  Nma, 
who  made  her  brother  repeat  more  than  once, 
the  narrative  of  the  defence  and  subsequent  loss 
of  the  brig.  How  Ethelston's  recovery  pro- 
ceeded under  the  care  of  the  brother  and  sister 
shall  be  told  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Visit  of  Wingenund  to  Mooshanne.  He  rejoins  War- 
Eiigle,  and  they  return  to  their  band  in  the  far-west. 
M.  Parrot  lualjes  an  unsuccessful  attack  on  the  heart 
of  a  young  lady. 

We  must  novir  return  to  Mooshanne,  where 
Colonel  Brandon  received  Wingenund  very 
kindly;  and  within  half  an  hour  of  the  arrival 
of  the  party,  they  were  all  seated  at  his  hospi- 
table board,  whereon  smoked  venison  steaks, 
various  kinds  of  fowls,  a  substantial  ham,  cakes 
of  rice,  and  Indian  maize.  On  the  side-table 
were  cream,  wild  honey,  cheese,  and  preserved 
fruits,  ail  these  delicacies  being  admirably 
served  under  the  superintendence  oi  .\uu^  Ma- 
ry, who  was  delighted  with  \Mngenund,  praised 
the  extreme  beauty  of  his  eyes  and  features, 
telling  the  Cfdonel,  in  a  whisper,  that  if  she  had 
been  thirty-five  years  younger,  she  should  have 
been  afraid  of  losing  her  heart !  The  youth 
was  indeed  the  hero  of  the  day  :  all  were  grate- 
ful to  him  for  his  gallant  preservation  of  Regi- 
oahrs;  life,  and  all  strove  with  equal  anxipty  to 
oake  him  forget  that  ne  was  among  strangers. 


I  Nor  was  the  task  difficult ;  for  though  he  had 
only  tlie  use  of  one  hand,  it  was  surprising  to 
see  the  tact  and  self-possession  with  which  he 
conducted  himself,  the  temperate  quietness 
with  which  he  ate  and  drank,  and  the  ease  with 
which  he  handled  some  of  the  implements  at 
table,  which  he  probably  saw  for  the  first  time. 
Baptiste  was  a  privileged  person  in  the  Colonel's 
house,  and  was  allowed  to  dine  as  he  pleased, 
either  with  its  master,  or  with  Perrot  and  the 
other  servants.  On  this  occasion,  he  was  pre- 
sent in  the  dining-room,  and  seemed  to  take  a 
pleasure  in  drawing  out  the  young  Delaware, 
and  in  making  hini  talk  on  subjects  which  he 
knew  would  be  interesting  to  the  rest  of  the 
party.  Wingenund  was  quiet  and  reserved  in 
his  replies,  except  when  a  question  was  put  to 
him  by  Lucy,  to  whom  he  gave  his  answers 
with  the  greatest  naievete,  telling  her  more 
than  once,  that  she  reminded  him  of  his  sister 
Prairie-bird,  but  that  the  latter  was  taller,  and 
had  darker  hair.  While  addressing  her,  he  kept 
his  large  speaking  eyes  so  riveted  upon  Lucy's 
countenance,  that  she  cast  her  own  to  the 
ground,  almost  blushing  at  the  boy's  earnest 
and  admiring  gaze.  To  relieve  herself  from 
embarrassment,  she  again  inquired  about  this 
mysterious  sister,  saying,  "Tell  me,  Winge- 
nund, has  she  taught  you  to  read,  as  well  as  to 
speak  our  tongue." 

"  No,"  said  the  youth  ;  "  Prairie-bird  talks 
with  the  Great  Spirit,  and  with  paper  hooks,  and 
so  does  the  Black  Father;  but  Wingenund  cannot 
understand  them, — he  is  only  a  poor  Indian." 

Here  Reginald,  whose  curiosity  was  much 
excited,  inquired,  "  Does  the  Prairie-bird  look 
kmdly  on  the  young  chiefs  of  the  tribe? — Will 
she  be  the  wife  of  a  chief?" 

There  was  something  both  of  surprise  and 
scorn  in  Wingenund's  countenance,  as  he  re^ 
plied,  "Prairie-bird  is  kind  to  all — the  young 
chiefs  find  wives  among  the  daughters  of  the 
Delawares ; — but  the  antelope  mates  not  with 
the  moose,  though  they  feed  on  the  same  prai- 
rie. The  Great  Spirit  knows  where  the  Prai- 
rie-bird was  born  ;  but  her  race  is  unknown  to 
the  wise  men  among  the  Tortoises." 

Reginald  and  his  sister  were  equally  at  a  loss 
to  understand  his  meaning;  both  looked  inqui- 
ringly at  the  Guide,  who  was  rubbing  his  ear, 
as  if  rather  puzzled  by  the  young  Delaware's 
answer.  At  length,  he  said,  "  Why,  Miss  Lucy, 
you  see,  much  of  what  the  lad  says  is  as  plain 
to  me  as  the  sight  on  my  rifle  :  for  the  tribes  of 
the  Lenape  are  as  well  known  to  me  as  tha 
totems  of  the  Oggibeways.  The  Great  nation 
is  divided  into  three  tribes : — the  Minsi,  or  the 
Wolf-tribe  (sometimes  called  also  Puncsit,  or 
round-foot) ;  the  Unalacticos,  or  the  Turkey- 
tribe,  and  the  Unamis,  or  the  Tortoise-tribe. 
The  last  are  considered  the  principal  and  most 
ancient ;  and  as  Wingenund's  family  are  of  thiai 
band,  he  spoke  just  now  of  their  wise  men. 
But  who,  or  wnai  klr.'  o'  c-ittur  this  Prairie- 
bird  can  be,  would  puzzle  a  Philadelphy  lawyer 
to  tell,  let  alone  a  poor  hunter  who  knows  htlle 
out  of  the  line  of  his  trade." 

"Then,  Baptiste," said  Lucy,  smiling ;  -your 
trade  is  a  pretty  extensive  one.  for  T  thins  you 
have  more  knowledge  m  your  head  on  most 
subjects  than  half  the  lawyers  and  clerks  in  the 
Territory." 


38 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  There  it  is,  Miss  Lucy ;  you're  always  a 
givin'  iiie  a  little  dose  of  flattery,  just  as  I  give 
my  patcties  a  bit  of  grease  to  make  the  Doctor 
swallow  his  lead  pills.  You  ladies  think  we're 
all  alike, — young  sparks,  and  tough  old  chaps 
like  me, — if  you  do  hut  dip  our  fingers  into  the 
honey-pot,  you  know  we  shall  lick  them  as  soon 
as  your  backs  are  turned  !  But  it  is  getting  late," 
he  added,  rising  from  his  scat ;  "  and  I  have 
much  to  say  to  this  youth,  who  is  already  tired  ; 
with  your  leave,  Miss,  I  will  retire  with  him, 
and  see  that  he  has  a  comfortable  sleeping- 
quarter,  and  that  he  wants  for  nothing." 

"  Pray  do  so,"  said  Lucy ;  "  let  him  be  treat- 
ed as  if  he  were  one  of  our  own  family.  I  am 
sure,  dear  papa,  such  would  be  your  wish,"  she 
added,  turning  to  her  father. 

"  It  is  indeed,  my  child,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"Wingenund,  again  I  beg  you  to  receive  a  fa- 
ther's best  thanks  for  your  brave  defence  of  his 
son." 

"  It  was  nothing,"  replied  the  boy,  modestly. 
"You  are  all  good,  too  good  to  Wingenund  ; 
when  he  gets  to  the  Far  Prairie,  he  will  tell  the 
Prairie-bird  and  the  Black  Father  to  speak  to 
the  Great  Spirit,  that  He  may  smile  on  my 
white  father,  and  on  my  brother ;  and,"  he 
added,  slowly  raising  his  dark  eloquent  eyes  to 
Lucy's  face,  "  that  he  may  send  down  pleasant 
sunshine  and  refreshing  dew  on  the  Lily  of 
Mooshanne."  So  saying,  he  turned  and  left 
the  room,  accompanied  by  the  Guide. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  as  the  youth 
disappeared,  "  they  may  call  that  lad  a  savage  ; 
but  his  feelings,  ay,  and  his  manners  too,  would 
put  to  shame  those  of  many  who  think  them- 
se  ves  fine  gentlemen." 

"  He  is,  indeed,  a  noble  young  fellow,"  said 
Reginald,  "and  worthy  to  be  the  relative  and 
pupil  of  my  Indian  brother.  I  would  that  you 
had  seen  In7n,  father :  you  are  in  general  rather 
sceptical  as  to  the  qualities  of  the  Redskins.  I 
think  the  War-Eagle  would  surprise  you  !" 

"Indeed,  Reginald,"  said  the  Colonel,  "I 
have  seen  among  them  so  much  cruelty,  cun- 
ning, and  drunkenness,  that  the  romantic  no- 
tions which  I  once  entertained  respecting  them 
are  completely  dissipated.  Nevertheless,  I  con- 
fess that  many  of  their  worst  faults  have  arisen 
from  their  commerce  with  the  whites  ;  and  they 
still  retain  some  virtues  which  are  extremely 
rare  among  us." 

"To  which  do  you  allude  1"  inquired  Regi- 
nald. 

"  More  especially,  to  patience  under  suffering. 
a  padlocked  mouth  when  entrusted  with  a  secret, 
and  unshaken  fidelity  in  friendship." 

"These  are  indeed  high  and  valuable  quali- 
ties," re|)lied  Reginald.  "Moreover,  it  strikes 
me  that  in  one  principal  feature  of  character 
the  Indian  is  superior  to  us;  he  acts  up  to  his 
creed.  That  creed  may  be  entirely  based  on 
error;  it  may  teach  him  to  prefer  revenge  to 
mercy,  theft  to  industry,  violence  to  right ;  but 
such  as  he  has  learnt  it  from  his  fathers,  he 
acts  up  to  it  more  firmly  and  consistently  tlian 
we  do,  '  who  know  the  right,  and  still  the  wrong 
purs'ie.' " 

"  Your  observation  is  just,"  replied  his  fath- 
er; "they  are  benighted,  and  do  many  of  the 
•■*eds  of  darkness.  What  shall  we  say  of  those 
who  do  them  under  the  light  of  a  noon-day  sun  V 


"  And  yet,"  said  Lucy,  "  this  Wingenund 
seems  half  a  Christian,  and  more  than  hal*"  a 
gentleman,  cither  by  nature,  or  by  the  instruc 
tions  of  the  strange  beiug  he  calls  the  Prairie 
bird!" 

"  Upon  my  word,  Lucy,"  said  her  brother 
with  a  malicious  smile,  "I  thoiigiit,  while  the 
lad  was  speaking  of  his  sister  on  the  Praii-ic, 
his  eyes  were  strangely  fixed  ujion  the  white 
lady  in  the  wigwam.  It  is  fortunate  he  is  going 
soon  ;  and  still  more  fortunate  that  a  certain 
cruizing  captain  is  not  returned  from  the  West 
Indies."  As  this  impertinent  speech  was  made 
in  a  whisper,  it  did  not  reach  Aunt  .Mary  or  the 
Colonel  ;  and  the  only  re|)Iy  it  drew  from  Lucy, 
was  a  blushing  threat  of  a  repetition  of  the  same 
punishment  which  she  had  inflicted  in  tiie  morn- 
ing for  a  similar  ofTcnce.  He  begged  pardon, 
and  was  forgiven  ;  soon  after  which  the  little 
party  broke  up  and  retired  to  rest. 

Meantime  Baptiste,  who  knew  that  the  well- 
intentioned  offer  of  a  hed-rooiii  and  its  comforts 
would  be  a  great  annoyance  to  Wingeimnd,  took 
the  lad  out  with  him  to  a  dry  barn  behind  the 
house,  where  there  was  an  abundant  su[)ply  of 
clean  straw,  and  where  he  intended  to  lodge 
him  for  the  night.  "  Wingenund,"  said  he, 
"  you  will  rest  here  for  some  hours ;  but  we 
must  go  along  before  daylight  to  meet  War- 
Eagle,  accordmg  to  my  promise." 

"  I  will  he  ready,"  replied  the  youth  ;  and 
casting  himself  down  on  a  bundle  of  straw,  in 
five  minutes  his  wounds  and  fatigues  were  for- 
gotten in  a  refreshing  sleep,  over  which  hovered 
the  bright  dreams  of  youth,  wherein  the  sweet 
tones  of  his  sister's  voice  were  confused  with 
the  blue  eyes  of  Lucy  ;  and  yet  withal  a  sleep, 
such  as  guilt  can  never  know,  and  the  wealth 
of  the  Indies  cannot  purchase. 

Before  three  o'clock  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, the  Guide  re-entered  the  barn  with  a  light 
step  ;  not  so  light,  however,  as  to  escape  the 
quick  ear  of  the  young  Indian,  who  leaped  from 
his  straw  couch,  and  throwing  his  rifle  over  his 
shfiulder,  stood  before  the  hunter.  "  I  hope  you 
slept  well,"  said  the  latter,  "  and  that  your  arm 
gives  you  less  pain  V 

"  I  slept  till  you  came,"  said  the  boy,  "  and 
the  pain  sleeps  still.     I  feel  nothing  of  ii." 

"  Wingenund  will  be  like  his  father,"  said 
the  Guide.  "  He  will  laugh  at  pajn,  and  fatigue, 
and  danger;  and  his  war-path  will  be  sprinkled 
with  the  blood  of  his  eaemie?  " 

The  youth  drew  himself  proudly  up,  and 
though  gratified  by  the  Guide's  observation, 
merely  re|)lied,  "  The  Great  Spirit  knows.—  I 
am  ready  ;  let  us  go." 

Baptiste  had  provided  a  couple  of  horses,  and 
they  started  at  a  brisk  pac^e,  as  he  wished  to 
reai;h  the  spot  where  he  had  appointed  to  meet 
War-Eagle  soon  after  day-light.  To  one  less 
familiar  with  the  woods,  the  tangled  and  wind- 
ing path,  through  which  he  led  the  way,  would 
have  ofllered  many  impediments  ;  but  Baplistfl 
went  rapidly  forward  without  hesitation  '.>r  dif- 
ficulty, Wingenund  following  in  silence ;  and 
after  a  brisk  ride  of  three  hours  they  came  tf 
an  opening  in  the  forest,  where  a  log  hut  wai 
visible,  and  beyond  it  the  broad  expanse  ol 
Ohio's  stream. 

The  Guide  here  whispered  to  Wingenund  to 
remain  concealed  in  the  thicket  with  the  horses 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


39 


while  he  reconnoitered  the  hut ;  because  he 
Knew  that  it  was  sometimes  used  as  a  shelter 
and  a  rendezvous,  by  some  of  the  lawless  and 
desperate  characters  on  the  borders  of  the  set- 
tlements. 

Having  finished  his  examination,  and  ascer- 
tained that  the  hut  was  empty,  he  returned  to 
Wingenund,  and  desired  him  to  come  down  to 
the  w  ater's  edge,  where  he  was  to  make  a  sig- 
nal for  War-Eagle,  who  ought  to  be  now  at  no 
great  distance.  The  youth  accordingly  went 
to  the  river's  bank,  and  understanding  from  the 
Guide  that  there  was  no  occasion  (or  farther 
concealment,  he  gave  three  whistles  in  a  pecu- 
liar tone,  but  exceedingly  loud  and  shrill.  For 
some  time  they  listened  for  a  reply.  Nothing 
was  heard,  except  the  tap  of  the  woodpecker 
upon  the  bark  of  the  elm,  and  the  notes  of  the 
various  feathered  choristers  chirping  their  ma- 
tin song. 

After  a  pause  of  several'  minutes,  the  Guide 
said,  "Surely  some  accident  has  detained  War- 
Eagle  !  Perhaps  he  has  failed  in  getting  the 
canoe.     Repeat  the  signal,  Wingenund." 

"  War-Eagle  is  here,"  replied  the  youth,  who 
was  quietly  leaning  on  his  rifle,  with  an  ab- 
stracted air. 

Again  the  Guide  listened  attentively  ;  and  as 
he  was  unable  to  distinguish  the  slightest  sound 
indicative  of  the  chiefs  approach,  he  was  ratli- 
er  vexed  at  the  superior  quickness  implied  in 
Wingeniind's  reply,  and  said  scuiiewhat  testily, 
"  A  moose  might  hear  something  of  him,  or  a 
bloodhound  might  find  the  wind  of  him,  but  I 
can  make  out  nothing,  and  my  cars  an"t  used  to 
be  stullld  with  cotton,  neither!" 

"  Grande-Haclie  is  a  great  warrior,  and  Win- 
genund would  be  proud  to  follow  in  his  war- 
path ;  eyes  an-d  ears  are  the  gift  of  the  Great 
Spirit." 

"How  knov/  you  that  War-Eagle  is  here  1" 
inquired  the  Guide  impatiently. 

"  By  that,"  replied  the  boy,  pointing  to  a 
scarcely  perceptible  mark  on  the  bank  a  few 
yards  from  his  feet,  "  that  is  the  mocassin  ol 
the  War-Eagle  ;  he  has  been  to  the  hut  this 
morning ;  below  that  foot-print  you  will  see  on 
the  sand  the  mark  of  where  his  canoe  has 
touched  the  ground." 

"  The  boy  is  right,"  muttered  Eaptiste,  ex- 
amining the  marks  carefully.  "  I  believe  I  am 
no  hunter,  but  an  ass  after  all,  with  no  better 
ears  and  eyes  than  Master  Perrot,  or  any  other 
parlour-boarder." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  sound  of  the  pad- 
dle was  heard,  and  War-Eagle  brought  his  ca- 
noe to  the  bank ;  a  brief  conversation  now 
took  place  between  him  and  Baptiste,  in  which 
some  particulars  were  arranged  for  lieginald's 
visit  to  the  Western  Prairie.  Th*e  Guide  then 
taking  from  his  wallet  several  pounds  of  bread 
and  beef,  and  a  large  parcel  of  tobacco,  added 
these  to  ilie  stores  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
and  having  shaken  hands  heartily  with  the 
:;hief  and  Wingenund,  returned  leisurely  on  his 
homeward  way  ;  but  he  still  muttered  to  him- 
self as  he  wint;  and  it  was  evident  that  he 
could  not  shake  off  the  annoyance  which  he 
felt  at  being  "  out-crafted,"  as  he  called  it,  "  by 
a  boy  !" 

We  will  not  follow  the  tedious  and  toilsome 
yovage  of  War-Eagle  and  his  young  friend,  in 


the  canoe,  a  voyage  in  which  after  descending 
the  Ohio,  they  had  to  make  their  way  up  the 
Mississippi  to  its  junction  with  the  Missouri, 
and  thence  up  the  latter  river  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Osage  river,  which  they  also  ascended  be- 
tween two  and  three  hundred  miles  before  they 
rejoined  their  band.  It  is  sufficient  for  the 
purposes  of  our  tale  to  inform  the  reader  that 
they  reached  their  destination  in  safety,  and 
that  Wmgenund  recovered  from  the  effects  of 
his  severe  wound. 

When  Baptiste  returned  to  Mooshanne,  he 
found  the  family  surprised  and  annoyed  at  the 
sudden  disappearance  of  their  young  Indian 
guest ;  but  when  he  explained  to  Reginald  that 
he  had  gone  to  rejom  his  chief  by  War-Eagle's 
desire,  Reginald  felt  that  the  best  course  had 
been  adopted,  as  the  boy  might,  if  he  had  re- 
mained, have  fallen  in  the  way  of  the  exasper- 
ated party  who  were  seeking  to  revenge  Her- 
vey's  death. 

It  was  about  noon  when  Mike  Smith,  and 
several  of  those  who  accompanied  him  the  pre- 
ceding day,  arrived  at  Mooshanne,  and  insisted 
upon  Baptiste  shewing  them  the  spot  where  he 
had  told  them  that  an  Indian  had  been  recently 
buried.  Reginald  declined  being  of  the  party, 
which  set  forth  under  the  conduct  of  the  Guide, 
to  explore  the  scene  of  the  occurrences  men- 
tioned in  a  fiu-mer  chapter. 

During  their  absence,  Reginald  was  loung- 
ing in  liis  sister's  boudoir,  talking  with  her  over 
the  events  of  the  preceding  days,  when  they 
heard  the  sound  of  a  vehicle  driven  up  to  the 
door,  and  the  blood  rushed  into  Lucy's  face  as 
the  thought  occurred  to  her  that  it  might  be 
Ethelston  ;  the  delusion  was  very  brief,  for  a 
moment  afterwards  the  broad  accent  of  David 
Muir  was  clearly  distinguishable,  as  he  said  to 
his  daughter,  "  i\oo  Jessie,  baud  a  grip  o'  Smi- 
ler,  while  I  gie  a  pull  at  the  door-bell." 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  the  worthy  "  Mer- 
chaunt,"  (by  which  appellation  David  delight- 
ed to  he  designated,)  the  door  was  opened  by 
no  less  a  personage  than  i\Ionsieur  Gustave 
Perr.ot  himself,  who  seeing  the  pretty  Jessie  in 
her  father's  spring-cart,  hastened  with  charac- 
teristic gallantry,  to  assist  her  to  descend  ;  in 
the  performance  of  which  operation  he  extend- 
ed both  his  hands  to  support  her  waist,  saying 
in  his  most  tender  tone,  "  Take  care.  Miss  .Jes- 
sie ;  now  shump,  and  trust  all  your  leetle 
weight  with  me." 

But  while  he  was  speaking,  the  active  girl 
putting  one  foot  on  tlie  step  and  touching  bun 
lightly  on  the  arm,  stood  on  the  ground  beside 
him. 

"  Weel,  Mr.  Parrot,  and  how's  a  wi  ye  tlie 
day,"  said  David,  who  was  busily  employed  in 
extracting  various  packages  and  parcels  fiom 
the  cart. 

"  All  ver'  well,  thank  you,  Mr.  Muir  ;  wonder* 
ful  things  happen,  though.  My  young  Mr.  Re- 
ginald he  he  drowned  and  stabbed,  and  quite 
well  !" 

"  Gude  save  us  !"  said  David,  in  horror ; 
"  drowned,  and  stabbed,  and  quite  well  1"  Ye'ro 
surely  no  in  earnest,  Mr.  Parrot !" 

"  I  speak  only  the  truth  always, — Miss  Jessie, 
the  fresh  air  and  the  ride  make  your  cheek  beau- 
tiful rosy." 

"Mr.  Perrot,"  replied  Jessie,  smiling,  "  that 


40 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Is  a  poor  compliment !  You  are  so  gallant  a 
gentleman,  you  should  praise  the  roses  in  a 
lady's  clieek  without  mentioning  that  she  owes 
them  to  a  rough  road  and  a  fresh  breeze  !" 

This  dialogue  on  roses  was  here  interrupted 
by  David,  who  said,  "  May  be,  Mr.  Parrot,  ye'll 
just  let  Smiler  be  ta'en  round  to  the  stable,  and 
desire  ane  o'  the  lads  to  help  us  in  with  these 
wa  parcels  ;  yon  muckle  basket,  there,  is  brim- 
ull  of  all  the  newest  kick-shaws,  and  modes, 
as  them  call  'em,  frae  Philadelphy,  so  Jessie's 
just  come  wi'  me,  to  gie  Miss  Lucy  the  first 
choice  ; — and  she's  a  right  to  hae  it  too,  for 
she's  the  bo;  nicst  and  tlie  best  young  lady  in 
the  Territory." 

Mr.  Perrot  having  given  these  necessary  or- 
ders, David,  with  his  papers,  was  soon  closeted 
with  the  colonel,  in  his  business  room  ;  and  Jes- 
sie was  ushered  into  the  young  lady's  boudoir, 
where  her  brother  still  sat,  with  the  intention 
of  giving  his  sister  the  benefit  of  his  advice  in 
the  selection  of,  what  David  called,  kickshaws 
and  modes,  for  her  toilet.  Meanwhile  PernU 
was  preparing  a  formidable  attack  upon  Jessie's 
heart,  through  the  medium  of  some  venieon 
steaks,  a  delicate  ragout  of  squirrel,  and  sundry 
other  tit-bits,  with  which  he  hoped  to  propitiate 
the  village  beauty.  As  Jessie  entered  the  room, 
her  salutation  of  Lucy  was  modestly  respectful ; 
and  she  returned  Reginald's  bow  with  an  unem- 
barrassed and  not  ungraceful  courtesy.  While 
she  was  drawing  out,  and  placing  on  a  table, 
the  silken  contents  of  her  basket,  Reginald  in- 
quired of  her  whether  any  news  was  stirring  in 
Marietta. 

"None,"  she  replied,  "except  the  killing  of 
Hervey.  All  the  town  is  speaking  of  it,  and  they 
say  it  will  cause  more  bloodshed ;  for  Mike 
Smith  vows,  if  he  cannot  find  the  real  offender, 
he'll  shoot  down  the  first  Indian  he  finds  in  the 
woods." 

"  Mike  Smith  is  a  hot-headed  fool,"  replied 
Reginald  ;  but  remembering  sundry  reports 
which  had  reached  his  ear,  he  added,  •'  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Miss  Jessie,  if  the  words  give  you 
offence." 

"  Indeed  you  have  given  none.  Master  Regi- 
nald," said  Jessie,  colouring  a  little  at  the  im- 
plied meaning  of  his  words  ;  "  Mike  comes  very 
often  to  our  store,  but  I  believe  it  is  more  for 
whiskey  than  anything  else." 

"Nay,"  said  Reginald  ;  "I  doubt  you  do  him 
injustice.  The  say  he  prefers  the  end  of  the 
store  which  is  the  furthest  from  the  bar." 

"  Perhaps  he  may,"  replied  Jessie ;  "  I  am 
always  better  pleased  when  he  stays  away,  for 
ne  is  very  ill-tempered  and  quarrelsome  !  WpII, 
miss,"  she  continued,  "are  not  these  pink  rib- 
bons oeautiful,  and  these  two  light  shawls'! — 
they  come  from  the  British  East  India  House." 

"They  are  indeed  the  prettiest  and  most  de- 
licate that  I  ever  saw,"  replied  Lucy  ;  "  and  see 
here,  Reginald,"  said  she,  drawing  him  aside, 
"  these  French  bead  necklaces  will  do  famously 
for  some  of  your  Delaware  friends."  She  added 
in  a  whisper,  "  ask  her  if  there  is  no  other  news 
at  the  town." 

"  What  about,"  inquired  her  brother.  A  silent 
look  of  reproach  was  her  only  reply,  as  she  tiirn- 
«(1  away,  and  again  busied  herself  with  the  silks. 
He  was  inslantlv  conscious  and  ashamed  of  his 
thoughtlessness,  which,  after  a  few  moments' 


silence,  he  proceeded  to  repair,  sayurg,  "  Praj 
tell  ine.  Miss  Jessie,  has  your  father  received  n» 
intelligence  of  the  '  Pride  of  the  Ohio.'  " 

"  Alas  !  not  a  word,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a  tone 
of  voice  so  melancholy,  that  it  startled  them 
both. 

"  But  why  speak  you  in  so  sad  a  voice  abouJ 
the  vessel,  Jessie,  if  you  have  heard  no  bad  news " 
regarding  herV  said  Reginald,  quickly  ' 

"Because,  sir,  she  has  been  very  loiig  Dver 
due,  and  there  are  many  reporis  of  French  ships 
of  war ;  and  we,  that  is,  my  father,  is  much  in- 
terested about  her." 

Poor  Lucy's  colour  came  and  went ;  but  she 
had  not  the  courage  to  say  a  word.  After  a 
short  pause,  Reginald  inquired,  "  Have  any  boats 
come  up  lately  from  New  Orleans  1" 

"  Yes,  sir,  Henderson's  came  up  only  a  few 
days  ago,  and  Henry  Gregson,  who  had  been 
down  on  some  business  for  my  father,  returned 
in  her." 

"  That  is  the  young  man  who  assists  your 
father  in  the  store  1  I  believe  he  is  a  son  of  the 
mate  on  board  the  Pride.  I  have  remarked  that 
he  is  a  very  fine  looking  young  fellow  !" 

"  He  is  the  son  of  Captain  Ethelston's  mate," 
said  Jessie,  casting  down  her  eyes,  and  busying 
herself  with  some  of  her  ribbons  and  silks 
"  But  I  hope,"  she  continued,  "  that  you,  Mr 
Reginald,  are  not  seriously  hurt.  Mr.  Perrot 
told  me  you  had  been  drowned  and  stabbed  !" 

"Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Reginald, 
laughing;  "I  had,  indeed,  a  swim  in  the  Mus- 
kingum, and  a  blow  from  a  horse's  hoof,  but  am 
none  the  worse  for  either.  Do  not  forget,  Misa 
Jessie,  to  send  off  a  messenger  immediately  that 
any  news  arrive  of  the  Pride.  You  know  what 
a  favourite  she  is,  and  how  anxious  we  are  here 
about  her !" 

"  Indeed  T  will  not  forget,"  replied  Jessie. 

Lucy  sighed  audibly  ;  and,  after  purchasing  a 
few  ribbons  and  shawls,  as  well  as  a  stock  of 
heads  for  her  brother,  she  allowed  Jessie  to  re- 
tire, begging,  at  the  same  time,  her  acceptance 
of  one  ofthe  prettiest  shawls  in  her  basket.  Aa 
the  latter  hesitated  about  receiving  it,  Lucy 
threw  it  over  the  girl's  shoulder,  saying  playful- 
ly, "  Nay,  Jessie,  no  refusal ;  I  am  mistress  here  ; 
and  nobody,  not  even  Mr.  Reginald,  disputes  my 
will  in  this  room  !" 

Jessie  thanked  the  young  lady,  and,  saluting 
her  brother,  withdrew  to  a  back  parlour,  where 
Monsieur  Perrot  had  already  prepared  his  good 
things,  and  where  her  father  only  waited  her 
coming  to  commence  a  dinner  which  his  drive 
had  made  desirable,  and  "'hich  hio  uiiaciory 
iieives  told  him  was  more  savory  than  the  vi- 
ands set  before  him  at  Marietta  by  Mrs.  Christie. 

"Call  ye  this  a  squirrel  ragool"  said  the 
worthy  Mp'rchaunt;  "  woel  now  it's  an  awfu' 
thing  to  think  how  the  Lord's  gifts  are  abused 
in  the  auld  country  !  I  hae  seen  dizens  o'  they 
wee  deovils  lilting  and  louping  amaing  the  woods 
in  the  Lothians  ;  and  yet  the  hungry  chaps  wha' 
can  scarce  earn  a  basin  o'  porritch,  or  a  pot  o' 
kail  to  their  dinner,  would  as  soon  think  o'  eatin* 
a  stoat  or  a  foumart !" 

While  making  this  observation,  Davie  was 
dispatching  the  "  ragoo"  with  a  satisfaction 
which  showed  how  completely  he  had  overcome 
his  insular  prejudices.  Nor  were  Perrot's  culi- 
naiy  attentions  altogether  lost  upon  Miss  Jessie : 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


41 


lor  although  she  might  not  repay  them  entirely 
according  to  the  wishes  of  the  gallant  Maitre 
d'Hotei,  she  could  not  help  acknowledging  that 
he  was  a  pleasant,  good-humoured  fe,llow,  and 
that  hia  abilities  as  a  cook  were  of  the  highest 
ordei.  Accordingly,  when  he  offered  her  a 
foaming  glass  of  cider,  she  drank  it  to  his  health, 
with  a  glance  of  her  merry  eye  sufficient  to  have 
turned  the  head  of  a  man  less  vain  and  amorous 
than  Monsieur  Perrot. 

The  dmner  passed  pleasantly  enough  ;  and  as 
David  Muir  drove  his  daughter  back  to  Marietta, 
his  heart  being  warmed  and  expanded  by  the 
generous  cider  (which,  for  the  good  of  his  health, 
he  had  crowned  with  a  glass  of  old  rum),  he  said, 
"Jessie,  I'm  thinkin'  that  Maister  Perrot  is  a 
douce  and  clever  man  ;  a  lassie  might  do  waur 
than  tak'  up  wi  the  like  o'  him !  I'se  warrant 
his  nest  will  no  be  ill  feathered  !" 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Jessie ;  and  turning 
her  head  away,  she  sighed,  and  thought  of  Henry 
Gregson. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

In  which  the  reader  will  find  that  the  coujih  of  an  invalid 
has  perils  not  less  formidable  than  those  which  are  to 
be  encountered  at  sea. 

We  left  Ethelston  stretched  on  a  sick  couch 
in  Guadaloupe,  in  the  house  of  Captain  L'Es- 
trange,  and  tended  by  liis  daughter  Nina,  and 
by  her  brother,  the  young  lieutenant.  Ttie  lat- 
ter grow  daily  more  attached  to  the  patient,  who 
had  been  his  captor,  and  was  now  his  prisoner; 
but  lie  was  obliged,  as  soon  as  Ethelston  was  pro- 
nounced out  of  danger,  to  sail  for  Europe,  as  he 
was  anxious  to  obtain  that  professional  distinc- 
tion which  his  pnrole  prevented  his  gaining  in 
service  against  the  United  States.  And  in 
France  there  seemed  a  promising  harvest  of 
combat  and  of  glory,  sufficient  to  satisfy  the 
martial  enthusiasm  even  of  the  most  adventu- 
rous of  Iter  sons.  When  he  sailed,  he  again 
and  again  pressed  upon  his  sister  to  bestow 
every  attention  upon  Ethelston ;  and  as  the 
Captain  was  much  busied  with  his  command. 
and  as  Madame  L'Estrange  was  entirely  devo- 
ted to  her  boudoir, — where,  with  two  chattering 
parrots  to  amuse  her,  and  a  little  black  girl  to 
fan  her  while  listlessly  poring  over  the  pages  of 
Florian  in  a  fauteuil, — ^the  whole  charge  devolv- 
ed upon  the  willing  and  kind-hearted  Nina.  She 
was  t.he  third  and  youngest  daughter  of  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  L'Estrange ;  but  (her  two 
elder  sisters  bemg  married)  she  was  the  only 
one  resident  wnn  her  parents. 

Sixteen  summers  had  now  passed  over  her, 
and  her  disposition  was  like  that  of  her  brother. 

frank,  impetuous,  and  warm-hearted.  Her 
i(!elings  had  never  been  guided  or  regulated  by 
her  handsome,  but  indolent  mother ;  her  mind 
had  been  allowed  to  seek  its  food  at  hap-hazard, 
among  the  romances,  poems,  and  plays  upon  the 
shelves  in  the  drawing-room.  Her  father  spoil- 
ed, and  her  brother  petted  her.  A  governess 
also  she  had,  whom  she  governed,  and  to  whose 
instructions  she  owed  little,  except  a  moderate 
proficiency  in  music.  Her  countenance  was  a 
very  beautiful  mirror,  reflecting  the  warm  and 
impassioned  features  of  her  character.  Her 
complexion  was  dark,  though  clear,  and  her  hair 


black  and  glossy.  The  pencilling  of  her  «/-■ 
brows  was  exceedingly  delicate ;  and  the  eyes 
themselves  were  large,  speaking,  and  glowing 
with  that  humid  lustre,  which  distinguishes 
Creole  beauty.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  rosy 
fulness  of  her  lip,  and  the  even  vvhiteness  of 
the  teeth  which  her  joyous  smile  disclosed. 
Her  figure  was  exquisitely  proportioned  ;  and 
her  every  movement  a  very  model  of  natural 
grace.  She  seemed,  indeed,  impregnated  with 
the  fervour  of  the  sunny  climate  in  which  she 
had  been  reared  ;  and  her  temper,  her  imagina- 
tion, her  passions,  all  glowed  with  its  ardent, 
but  dangerous  warmth.  According  to  the  usage 
of  her  country,  she  had  been  betrothed,  when  a 
child,  to  a  neighbouring  planter,  one  of  the  rich- 
est in  the  island  ;  but  as  he  was  absent  in  Eu- 
rope, and  there  remained  yet  two  years  before 
the  time  fixed  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  contract, 
she  rarely  troubled  her  head  about  the  marriage, 
or  her  future  destiny. 

Such  v/as  the  girl  who  now  officiated  as  nurse 
to  Ethelston,  and  who,  before  she  had  seen  him, 
had  gathered  from  her  brother  such  traits  of  his 
character,  as  had  called  forth  all  the  interest 
and  sympathy  of  her  romantic  disposition.  Al- 
though not  eminently  handsome,  we  have  be- 
fore noted  that  his  countenance  was  manly  and 
expressive,  and  his  manners  courteous  and  en- 
gaging. Perhaps  also  the  weakness  remaining 
after  the  crisis  of  his  fever,  imparted,  to  the 
usually  gentle  expression  of  his  features,  that 
touching  attraction,  which  is  called  by  a  modern 
poet  "  a  loving  languor."  At  all  events,  certain 
it  is,  that  ere  poor  Nina  had  administered  the 
third  saline  draught  to  her  grateful  patient,  her 
little  heart  beat  vehemently  ;  and  when  she  had 
attended  his  feverish  couch  one  short  week,  she 
was  desperately  in  love  ! 

How  fared  it  in  the  meantime  with  Ethelston  1 
Did  liis  heart  run  any  risk  from  the  dark  eloquent 
eyes,  and  the  gracefully  rounded  form  of  the 
ministering  angel  who  hovered  about  his  sick 
room  1  At  present  none,  for  Lucy  was  shrined 
there;  and  he  had  been  taught  by  young  L'Es- 
trange to  consider  his  sister  in  the  light  of  a 
nursery-girl,  still  under  the  dominion  of  the 
governess. 

Days  and  weeks  elapsed,  Ethelston's  recovery 
progressed,  and  he  was  able  to  stroll  in  the  shade 
of  the  orange  and  citron-groves,  which  sheltered 
Captain  L'Estrange's  vdla  to  the  northward 
Here,  with  his  eyes  fi.xed  on  the  sea,  would  he 
sometimes  sit  for  hours,  and  devise  schemes  foi 
returning  to  his  home.  On  these  occasions  he 
was  irequenii>  rtucompanie''  bv  Nina,  who  walk- 
ed by  his  side  with  her  guitar  in  her  hand  ;  and 
under  the  pretence  of  receiving  instructions 
from  him  in  music,  she  would  listen  with  delight, 
and  hang  with  rapture,  on  every  syllable  that 
he  uttered.  Though  he  could  not  avoid  being 
sensible  of  her  ripening  beauty,  his  heart  was 
protected  by  the  seven-fold  shield  of  a  deep  and 
abiding  attachment ;  and  as  he  still  looked  upon 
Xina  as  a  lovely  girl,  completing  her  education 
in  the  nursery,  he  gladly  gave  her  all  the  assis- 
tance that  she  asked  under  her  musical  difficul- 
ties ;  and  this  he  was  able  to  do,  from  having 
made  no  small  proficiency  in  the  science  during 
his  long  residence  in  Germany. 

Sometimes  he  paid  his  respects  to  Madame 
L'Estrange ;  but  that  lady  was  so  indolent,  and 


43 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


80  exoliisively  devoted  to  her  parrots  and  her 
Iap-(li);i,  tli.it  his  visits  to  her  were  neither  fre- 
quent, nor  of  lonjr  duration.  The  Captain  was 
very  seldom  ashore  ;  and  thus  Bihelston  was 
oblij;e  I  to  spend  his  time  alone,  or  in  the  society 
of  the  younix  J?irl  who  had  nursed  him  so  kindly 
during  his  illness.  Her  eharaeter  seemed  to 
have  undergone  a  sudden  and  complete  change. 
The  conquering  god,  who  had  at  first  only  taken 
possession  of  the  outworks  of  her  fancy,  had 
now  made  himself  master  of  the  citadel  of  her 
neart.  She  loved  with  all  the  intense,  ahsorh- 
ing  passion  of  a  nature  that  had  never  known 
control.  The  gaiety  and  buoyancy  of  her  spirits 
had  given  place  to  a  still,  deep  flood  of  feeling, 
which  her  renson  never  attempted  to  restrain. 
Even  when  with  Aim  she  spnke  little.  Iler  hap- 
pin:'ss  was  too  intense  to  find  a  vent  in  words  ; 
and  thus  she  nursed  and  fed  a  flame,  that  need- 
ed only  the  breath  of  accident  to  make  it  burst 
forth  with  a  violence  that  should  burn  up,  or 
overleap  all  the  barriers  of  self-control. 

Nor  must  the  reader  imagine  that  Ethelston 
was  dull  or  blind,  because  he  observed  not  the 
Btate  of  Nina's  affections.  His  own  were  firmly 
rooted  elsewhere  ;  he  was  neither  of  a  vain,  nor 
a  romantic  disposition  ;  and  he  had  been  duly 
informed  by  Monsieur  L'Estrange,  that  in  the 
course  of  two  years  Nina  was  to  be  married  to 
Monsieur  Bertram!,  the  young  planter,  to  whom, 
as  we  have  before  mentioned,  she  had  been  be- 
trothed by  her  parents  since  her  thirteenth  year. 
He  could  not  help  seeing  that  although  her  in- 
tellect was  quick,  and  her  character  enthusias- 
tic, her  education  had  been  shamefully  neglect- 
ed both  by  Madame  L'Estrange  and  the  gov- 
erness. Hence  he  spoke,  counselled,  and  some- 
times chid  her,  in  the  tone  of  an  elder  brother, 
heedless  of  the  almost  imperceptible  line  that 
separates  friendship  from  love  in  the  bo.som  of 
a  girl  tmrtured  under  a  West  Indian  sun= 

In  this  state  were  matters,  when,  on  a  fine 
evening,  Ethelston  strolled  alone  into  his  favour- 
ite orange-grove,  to  look  out  upon  the  ocean, 
and  in  the  enjoyment  of  its  refreshing  breeze, 
to  ruminate  on  his  strange  captivity,  and  revolve 
various  plans  of  escape. 

Captain  L'Estrange  had  paid  a  visit  to  his 
home  on  the  preceding  day,  and  finding  his 
prisoner  so  completely  restored  to  health  and 
strength,  had  said  to 'him,  jokingly,  "Indeed, 
fair  sir,  I  think  I  must  put  you  on  your  parole, 
or  in  chains  ;  for  after  the  character  given  of 
you  by  my  son,  I  cannot  allow  so  dangerous  a 
person  to  he  at  large  during  the  continuance  of 
hostilities  between  our  respective  nations." 

Ethelston  answered  half  in  earnest,  and  half 
in  jest,  "  Nay,  sir,  then  I  must  wear  the  chains, 
for  assuredly  I  cannot  give  my  parole ;  if  an 
American  vessel  were  to  come  in  sight,  or  any 
other  means  of  flight  to  offer  itself  depend  upon 
it,  in  spite  of  the  kindness  and  lujspitality  I  have 
met  with  here,  I  should  weigh  anchor  in  a  mo- 
ment." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  fair  warning."  said  the  old 

ominorlore  ;  "  nevertheless  I  will  not  lock  you 
jp  just  yet,  for  I  do  not  think  it  very  likely  that 
any  strange  sail  will  come  under  the  guns  of 
our  fi)rt;  and  I  wdl  run  the  risk  of  your  flying 
away  on  the  hack  of  a  sea-gull."  '  Thus  had 
they  parted  ;  and  the  old  gentleman  was  again 
absent  on  a  cruise. 


Ethelston  was,  as  we  have  said,  reclmmg 
listlessly  under  an  orange-tree,  inhalii  g  the  cool 
breeze,  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  its  blossoms, 
now  devising  impossible  plans  of  escape,  and 
now  musing  on  a  vision  of  Lucy's  graceful  figure 
gliding  among  the  deep  woods  around  Moos- 
hanne.  As  these  thoughts  passed  through  his 
mind,  they  imparted  a  melancholy  shade  to  his 
brow,  and  a  deep  sigh  escaf)ed  from  his  lips. 

It  was  echoed  by  one  yet  deeper,  close  to  his 
ear ;  and  starting  from  his  reverie,  he  beheld 
Nina,  who  had  approached  him  unawares,  and 
who,  leaning  on  her  guitar,  had  been  for  the 
last  few  minutes  gazing  on  his  countenance 
with  an  absorbed  intensity,  more  fond  and 
riveted  than  that  with  which  the  miser  regards 
his  treasure,  or  the  widowed  mother  her  only 
child. 

M^hen  she  found  herself  perceived,  she  came 
forward,  and  covering  her  emotion  under  an 
assumed  gaiety,  she  said,  "What  is  my  kind 
instructor  thinking  of!  He  seems  more  grave 
and  sad  than  usual." 

"  He  is  thinking,"  said  Ethelston,  good-hn- 
mouredly,  "  that  he  ought  to  scold  a  certain 
young  lacly  very  severely  for  co.ming  upf)n  him 
silly,  and  discovering  that  gravity  and  sadness 
in  which  a  captive  must  sometimes  indulge, 
but  which  her  presence  has  already  dissipated." 

"Nay,"  said  Nina,  still  holding  her  guitar, 
and  sitting  down  on  the  hank  near  him  ;  "you 
know  that  I  am  only  obeying  papa's  orders  in 
watching  you  ;  for  he  says  you  would  not  give 
your  parole,  and  I  am  sure  you  were  thinking 
of  your  escape  from  Guadaloupe." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  have  guessed  more 
wide  of  the  mark,  Mademoiselle  Nina,"  said 
Ethelston. 

"  And  are  you  then  so  very  anxious  to — to — 
sec  your  home  again  1"  inquired  Nina,  hesitating. 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  Nina,'"  he  replied,  "  when 
I  remind  you  that  for  many  months  I  have  heard 
nothing  of  those  who  have  been  my  nearest  and 
dearest  friends  from  childhood  ;  nothing  of  the 
brave  men  who  were  captured  with  rne  when 
our  poor  brig  was  lost !" 

"  Tell  me  about  your  friends,  and  your  home. 
Is  it  very  beautifuH  Have  you  the  warm  sun, 
and  the  fresh  sea-breeze,  and  the  orange-flow 
ers,  that  we  have  herel" 

"  Scarcely,"  replied  Ethelston,  smiling  at  the 
earnest  rapidity  with  which  the  beautiful  girl 
founded  her  inquiries  on  the  scene  before  her, 
"but  we  have  in  their  place  rivers  on  the  bosom 
of  which  your  father's  frigate  might  sail ;  groves 
and  woods  of  deep  shade,  impenetrable  to  tho 
rays  of  the  hottest  sun  :  and  prairies  smiling 
with  the  most  brilliant  and  variegated  flowers." 

"Oh!  how  I  should  love  to  see  that  land!" 
exclaimed  Nina,  her  fervitl  imagination  instantly 
grasping  and  heightening  its  beauties.  "  How 
I  should  love  to  dwell  there  !" 

"  Nay,  it  appears  to  me  not  unlikely  that  you 
mav  at  some  time  visit  if,"  replied  Ethelston. 
"This  foolish  war  between  our  countries  will 
soon  be  over,  and  your  father  may  wish  to  see 
a  region  Ihe  scenery  of  which  is  so  magnificent, 
and  which  is  not  difficult  of  access  from  here." 

"  Papa  will  never  leave  these  islands,  unless 
he  goes  to  France,  and  that  he  hates,"  said 
Nina. 

"Well  then,"  continued  Ethelston,  smiling. 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


43 


as  he  alluded  for  the  first  time  to  her  marriage, 
"you  must  defer  your  American  trip  a  year  or 
two  longer  ;  then,  doubtless,  Monsieur  Bertrand 
will  gladly  gratify  your  desire  to  see  the  Mis- 
sissippi." 

Nina  started  as  if  stung  hy  an  adder;  the 
blood  rushed  and  mantled  over  lier  face  and 
neck  ;  her  eyes  glowed  with  indignation,  as  she 
exclaimed,  "  I  abhor  and  detest  Monsieur  Ber- 
trand. I  would  die  before  I  would  marry  him  I" 
Then  adding  in  a  low  voice,  the  sadness  of 
vhich  went  to  his  heart,  "and  this  from  you 
too  !"  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
wept. 

Never  was  man  more  astonished  than  Ethel- 
ston  at  the  sudden  storm  which  he  had  inad- 
vertently raised.  Remembering  that  Madame 
L'Estrange  had  told  him  of  the  engagement  as 
being  known  to  Nina,  he  had  been  led  to  sup- 
pose from  her  usual  flow  of  spirits,  that  the 
prospect  was  far  from  being  disagreeable  to  her. 
Young  L'Estrange  had  also  told  him  that  Ber- 
trand was  a  good-looking  man,  of  high  charac- 
ter, and  considered,  from  his  wealth,  the  best 
match  in  the  French  islands;  so  that  Ethelston 
was  altogether  unprepared  for  the  violent  aver- 
sion which  Nina  now  avowed  for  the  marriage, 
and  for  the  grief  by  which  she  seemed  so  deeply 
agitated.  Siill  he  was  as  far  as  ever  from  di- 
vining the  true  cause  of  her  emotion,  and  con- 
jectured that  she  had  probably  formed  an  at- 
tachment to  one  of  the  young  officers  on  board 
her  father's  ship.  Under  this  impression  he 
took  her  hand,  and  sympathising  with  the  grief 
of  one  so  fair  and  so  young,  he  said  to  her, 
kindly,  "Forgive  me,  Nina,  if  I  have  said  any- 
thing to  hurt  your  feelings ;  indeed  I  always 
have  l)elieved  that  your  engagement  to  Mon- 
sieur Bertrand  was  an  affair  settled  by  your 
parents  entirely  with  your  consent.  I  am  sure 
Monsieur  L'Estrange  loves  his  favourite  child 
too  well  to  compel  her  to  a  marriage  against 
her  inclination.  Will  you  permit  your  Mentwr 
(as  you  have  more  than  once  allowed  me  to 
call  myself )  to  speak  with  him  on  the  subject  1" 

Nina  made  no  reply,  and  the  tears  coursed 
each  other  yet  faster  down  her  cheek. 

"  Your  brother  is  absent,"  continued  Ethel- 
ston ;  "you  seem  not  to  confide  your  little 
secrets  to  your  mother — will  you  not  let  me  aid 
you  by  my  advice  1  I  am  many  years  older  than 
you. — I  am  deeply  grateful  for  all  your  kindness 
during  my  tedious  illness  ;  believe  me,  I  will,  if 
you  will  only  trust  me,  advise  you  with  the 
affectionate  interest  of  a  parent,  or  an  elder 
brother." 

The  little  hand  trembled  violently  in  his,  but 
still  no  reply  escaped  from  Nina's  lips. 

"If  you  will  not  tell  me  your  secret,"  pursued 
Ethelston,  "I  must  guess  it.  Your  aversion  to 
the  engagement  arises  not  so  much  from  your 
dislike  to  Monsieur  Bertrand,  as  from  your  pre- 
ference of  some  other  whom  perhaps  your  pa- 
rents would  not  approved" 

The  hand  was  withdrawn,  being  employed  in 
an  ineffectual  attempt  to  check  her  tears.  The 
shght  fillet  which  bound  her  black  tresses  had 
given  way,  and  they  now  fell  in  disorder,  veiling 
iie  deep  crimson  glow  which  again  mantled 
over  the  neck  of  the  weeping  girl. 

Ethelston  gazed  on  her  with  emotions  of  deep 
sympathy.     There  was  a  reality,  a  dignity  about 


her  speechless  grief  that  must  have  moved  ; 
sterner  heart  than  his  ;  and  as  he  looked  upop 
the  heaving  of  her  bosom,  and  upon  the  exqui- 
site proportions  unconsciously  developed  in  liei 
attitude,  he  suddenly  felt  that  he  was  speaking, 
not  to  a  child  in  the  nursery,  but  to  a  girl  in 
whose  form  and  heart  the  bud  and  blossom  d 
womanhood  were  thus  early  ripened.  It  was, 
therefore,  in  a  tone,  not  less  kind,  but  more  re- 
spectful than  he  had  hitherto  used,  that  he  said, 
"  Nay,  Nina,  I  desire  not  to  pry  into  your  se- 
crets— I  only  wish  to  assure  you  of  the  deep 
sympathy  which  I  feel  with  j-our  sorrow,  and  of 
my  desire  to  aid  or  comfort  you  by  any  means 
within  my  power;  but  if  my  curiosity  offends 
you,  I  will  retire  in  the  hope  that  your  own  gen 
tie  thoughts  may  soon  afford  you  relief" 

Again  the  little  hand  was  laid  upon  liis  arm, 
as  Nina,  still  weeping,  whispered,  "No,  no, — 
you  do  not  offend  me. — Do  not  leave  me,  I  en- 
treat you  !" 

A  painful  silence  ensued,  and  Ethelston  more 
than  ever  confirmed  in  the  belief  that  she  had 
bestowed  her  affections  on  some  young  middy, 
or  lieutenant,  under  her  father's  command,  con- 
tinued in  a  tone  which  he  attempted  to  render 
gay:  "Well  then,  Nina,  since  you  will  not  give 
your  confidence  to  Mentor,  he  must  appoint 
himself  your  confessor;  and  to  commence,  he 
is  right  in  believing  that  your  dislike  to  Mon- 
sieur Bertrand  arises  from  your  having  given 
your  heart  elsewhere  T' 

There  was  no  reply  ;  but  her  head  was  bowed 
in  token  of  acquiescence  ! 

"I  need  not  inquire,"  he  pursued,  "  whether 
the  object  of  your  choice  is,  in  rank  and  charac- 
ter, worthy  of  your  affection  1" 

In  an  instant  the  drooping  head  was  raised, 
and  the  dark  tresses  thrown  back  from  her 
brow,  as,  with  her  eyes  flashing  through  the 
moisture  by  which  they  were  still  bedewed, 
Nina  replied,  "  Worthy  ! — worthy  the  affection 
of  a  queen  !" 

Ethelston,  startled  by  her  energy,  was  about 
to  resume  his  inquiries,  when  Nina,  whose  ex- 
cited spirit  triumphed  for  the  moment  over  all 
restraint,  stopped  him,  saying,  "  I  will  spare  you 
the  trouble  of  fartlier  questions.  I  will  tell  you 
freely,  that  till  lately,  very  lately,  I  cared  for 
none. — Monsieur  Bertrand  and  all  others  were 
alike  to  me ;  but  fate  threw  a  stranger  in  my 
path. — He  was  a  friend  of  my  brother ; — he  was 
wounded. — For  hours  and  hours  I  watched  by 
his  couch  ; — he  revived  ; — his  looks  were  gen- 
tle ;  his  voice  was  music. — I  drew  counsel  from 
his  lips; — he  filled  my  thoughts,  my  dreams, 
my  heart,  my  being  !  But  he — he  considered 
mc  only  as  a  silly  child  ; — he  understood  not 
my  heart ; — he  mocked  my  agony  ; — he  saved 
my  brother's  life, — and  is  now  accomplishing 
the  sister's  death !" 

The  excitement  which  supported  Nina  during 
the  commencement  of  this  speech,  gradually 
died  away.  Towards  its  close,  her  voice  grew 
tremulous,  and  as  the  last  words  escaped  her 
quivering  lips,  exhausted  nature  gave  way  un- 
der the  burden  of  her  emotion,  and  she  fainted  ! 

The  feelings  of  Ethelston  may  he  hotter  ima- 
gined than  described.  As  the  dreadful  import 
of  the  poor  girl's  words  gradually  broke  upon 
him,  his  checks  grew  paler  and  paler ;  and  when, 
at  their  conclusion,  her  senseless  form  lay  ey- 


44 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRU. 


tended  at  his  feet,  the  cold  dew  of  agony  stood 
in  drops  upon  Ins  A)relicad  !  lint  Nina's  condi- 
tion dciiiaiidtd  iiniiiediate  aid  and  attention. 
Mastering  himself  by  a  powerful  effort,  he 
snatched  a  lemon  from  a  neiglibouring  tree  ;  he 
cut  it  in  half,  and  sustaining  the  still  insensible 
gill,  he  chafed  her  hands,  and  rubbed  her  tem- 
ples Willi  the  cool  refresliing  juice  of  the  fruit. 
Vfter  a  time,  he  had  the  consolation  of  seeing 
her  restored  gradually  to  her  senses  ;  and  a 
faint  smile  came  over  her  countenance  as  she 
found  herself  supported  by  his  arm.  Still  she 
closed  her  eyes,  as  if  in  a  happy  dream,  which 
Ethelston  could  not  bring  him.self  to  disturb; 
and,  as  the  luxuriant  black  tresses  only  half 
veiled  the  touching  beauty  of  her  countenance, 
he  groaned  at  the  rellection  that  he  had  inad- 
vertently been  the  means  of  shedding  the  blight 
of  unrequited  love  on  a  budding  (lower  of  such 
exquisite  loveliness.  A  long  silence  ensued, 
softened,  rather  than  interrupted,  by  the  low 
wind  as  it  whispered  through  the  leaves  of  the 
orange  grove  ;  while  the  surrounding  landscape, 
and  the  wide  expanse  of  ocean,  glowed  with  the 
red  golden  lints  of  tlie  parting  sun.  IVo  unpUghc- 
ed  heart  could  have  resisted  all  the  assailing 
temptations  of  that  hour.  But  Ethelston's  heart 
was  not  unplighted  ;  and  the  high  principle  and 
generous  warmth  of  his  nature  served  only  to 
deepen  the  pain  and  sadness  of  the  present  mo- 
ment. He  formed,  however,  his  resolution ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  found  that  Nina  was  restored 
to  consciousness  and  to  a  certain  degree  of 
composure,  he  gently  withdrew  the  arm  which 
had  supported  her,  and  said,  in  a  voice  of  most 
melancholy  earnestness,  "  Dear  Nina !  I  will 
not  pretend  to  misunderstand  what  you  have 
said. — I  have  much  to  tell  you  ;  but  I  have  not 
now  enough  command  over  myself  to  speak, 
while  you  are  still  too  agitated  to  listen.  Meet 
me  here  to-morrow  at  this  same  hour  ;  mean- 
while, I  entreat  you,  recal  those  harsh  and  un- 
kind thoughts  which  you  entertained  of  me  ; 
and  believe  me,  dear,  dear  sister,  that  I  would, 
rather  than  have  mocked  your  feelings,  have 
died  on  that  feverish  couch,  from  which  your 
care  revived  me."  So  saying,  he  hastened 
from  her  presence  in  a  tumult  of  agitation 
scarcely  less  than  her  own. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  motionless,  in  a  kind 
of  waking  dream  ;  his  parting  words  yet  dwelt 
in  her  ear,  and  her  passionate  heart  construed 
them  now  according  to  its  own  wild  throbbings, 
now  accoijling  to  its  gloomiest  fears.  "  lie  has 
much  to  tell  me,"  she  mused  ;  "  he  called  me 
dear  Nina  ;  he  spoke  not  in  a  voice  of  indiffer- 
ence: his  eve  was  full  ol'  a  troubled  expression 
that  1  could  not  reao.  Aiaa  .'  a'as  'twas  onlv 
pity!  He  called  me  'dear  sister!' — what  can 
he  mean  ? — Oh  that  to  morrow  were  come  !  I 
shall  not  outlive  the  night  unless  I  can  believe 
that  he  loves  me  !"  And  then  she  fell  again 
into  a  reverie ;  during  which  all  the  looks  and 
tones  that  her  partial  fancy  had  interpreted,  and 
ler  too  faithful  memory  had  treasured,  were 
recalled,  and  repeated  in  a  thousand  shapes; 
«ntil  exhausted  by  her  agitation,  and  warned 
by  the  darkness  of  the  hour,  Nina  retired  to  her 
sleepless  couch. 

Meanwhile  Ethelston,  when  he  found  himself 
alone  in  his  room,  scrutinized  with  the  most 
unsparing  severity  his  past  conduct,  endeavour- 


ing to  remember  ever)*  careless  or  unheedfd 
word  by  which  he  could  have  awakened  or  en- 
couraged her  unsuspected  afTeciion.  He  could 
only  blame  himself  that  he  had  not  been  more 
observant ;  that  he  had  considered  Nina  too 
much  in  the  light  of  a  child  ;  and  had  habitual- 
ly spoken  to  her  in  a  tone  of  playful  and  confi- 
dential familiarity.  Thus,  though  his  conscience 
acquitted  him  of  the  most  remote  intention  of 
trilling  with  her  feelings,  he  accused  himself  of 
having  neglected  to  keep  a  watchful  guard  over 
his  language  and  behaviour,  and  resolved,  at  the 
risk  of  incurring  her  anger  or  her  hatred,  to  tell 
her  firmly  and  explicitly  on  the  morrow,  that 
he  could  not  requite  her  attachment  as  it  de- 
served, his  heart  having  been  long  and  faithful 
ly  devoted  to  another. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Narrating  the  trials  and  dangers  that  beset  Ethelston  ;  and 
how  he  escaped  from  them,  and  from  the  Island  of 
Guadaloupe. 

The  night  succeeding  the  occurrences  related 
in  the  last  chapter  brought  little  rest  to  the  pil- 
low either  of  Nina  or  of  Ethelston  ;  and  on  the 
following  day,  as  if  by  mutual  agreement,  they 
avoided  each  other's  presence,  until  the  hour 
appointed  for  their  meeting  again  in  the  orange 
grove.     Ethelston  was  firmly  resolved  to  ex- 
plain to  her  unreservedly  his  long  engagement 
to  Lucy,  hoping  that  the  feelings  of  Nina  would 
prove,  in  this  instance,  rather  impetuous  than 
permanent.     The  tedious  day  appeared  to  her 
as  if  it  never  would  draw  to  a  close.     She  fled 
from  her  mother,  and  from  the  screaming  par- 
rots;  she  tried  the  guitar,  but  it  seemed  tune- 
less and  discordant ;  her  pencil  and  her  book 
were,  by  turns,  taken  up,  and  as  soon  laid  aside  ; 
she  strolled  even  at  mid-day  into  tHe  orange 
grove,  to  the  spot  where  she  had  last  sat  by 
him,  and  a  blush  stole  over  her  cheek  when 
she  remembered  that  she  had   been  betrayed 
into  an  avowal  of  her  love  :  and  then  came  the 
doubt,  the  inquiry,  whether  he  felt  any  love  for 
her]     Thus  did  she  muse  and  ponder,  until  the 
hours,  which  in  the  morning  had  appeared  to 
creep  so  slwvvly  over  the  face  of  the  dial,  now 
glided  unconsciously  forward.     The  dinner-hour 
had  passed  unheeded  ;  and  before  she  had  sum- 
moned any  of  the  courage  and  firmness  which 
she  meant  to  call  to  her  aid,  Ethelston  stood 
before  her.     He  was  surprised  at  finding  Nina 
on  this  spot,  and  had  approached  it  long  before 
the  appointed  time,  in  order  that  he  might  pre- 
pare himself  for  the  dilhcull  and  painful  task 
which  he  had  undertaken.     But  though  unpre- 
pareu,  nis  i-nind  was  of  too  firm  and  regulated  a 
character  to  be  surprised  out  oi  a  fixed  deter- 
mination ;  and  he  came  up  and  offered  his  hand 
to  Nina,  greeting  her  in  his  accustomed  tone  of 
familiar  friendship.     She  received  his  salutation 
with  evident  embarrassment;  her  hand  and  her 
voice  trembled,  and  her  bosom  throbbed  in  a 
tumult  of  anxiety  and  expectation.     Ethelston 
saw  that  he  could  not  defer  the  promised  ex- 
planation ;  and  he  commenced  it  with  his  usual 
gentleness  of  manner,  but  with  a  firm  resolve 
that  he  would  be  honest  and  explicit  in  his  lan- 
guage.    He  began  by  referring  to  his  long  ill- 
ness' and,  with  gratitude,  to  her  care  and  at- 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD 


45 


leniion  during  i.5  continuance  ;  he  assured  her, 
that  having  been  told  both  by  Madame  L"Es- 
trange  and  her  brother,  that  slie  was  affianced 
to  Monsieur  Bertrand,  he  had  accus'omed  him- 
self to  looi<  on  her  as  a  younger  sister,  and,  as 
such,  had  ventured  to  offer  her  advice  and  in- 
struction in  her  studies.  He  !<new  not,  he 
dreamed  not,  that  she  could  ever  look  upon 
him  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  Mentor. 

Here  he  paused  a  moment,  and  continued  in 
a  deeper  and  more  earnest  tone,  "  Nina — dear 
Nina,  we  must  be  as  Mentor  and  his  pupil  to 
3ach  other,  or  we  must  part.  I  will  frankly 
lay  my  heart  open  to  you.  I  will  conceal  no- 
thing ;  then  you  will  not  blame  me,  and  will,  I 
hope,  permit  me  to  remain  your  grateful  friend 
and  brother.  Nina,  I  am  not  blind  either  to 
your  beauty,  or  to  the  many,  many  graces  of 
your  disposition.  I  do  full  justice  to  the  warmth 
and  truth  of  your  affections  :  you  deserve,  when 
loved,  to  be  loved  with  a  whole  heart — " 

"  O  spare  this  !"  interrupted  Nina,  in  a  hur- 
ried whisper  ;  "  Spare  this,  speak  of  yourself !"' 

"  I  was  even  about  to  do  so,"  continued 
Ethelston  ;  "  but,  Nina,  such  a  heart  I  have  not 
to  give.  For  many  months  and  years,  before  I 
ever  saw  or  knew  you,  I  have  loved,  and  still 
am  betrothed  to  another." 

A  cold  shudder  seemed  to  pass  through  Nina's 
frame  while  these  few  words  were  spoken,  as 
if  in  a  moment  the  health,  the  hope,  the  blos- 
som of  her  youth  were  blighted  !  Not  a  tear, 
not  even  a  sob  gave  relief  to  her  agony  ;  her 
bloodless  lip  trembled  in  a  vain  attempt  to  speak 
she  knew  not  what,  and  a  burning  chill  sat 
upon  her  heart.  These  words  may  appear  to 
some  strange  and  contradictory  :  happy,  thrice 
happy  ye,  to  whom  they  so  appear  !  If  you 
have  never  known  what  it  is  to  feel  at  once  a 
scorching  heat  parcliing  the  tongue,  and  drying 
up  all  the  well-springs  of  life  within,  while  a 
leaden  weight  of  ice  seems  to  benumb  the  heart, 
then  have  you  never  known  the  sharpest,  ex- 
treme pangs  of  disappointed  love  ! 

Ethelston  was  prepared  for  some  sudden  and 
Yiolent  expression  on  the  part  of  Nina,  but  this 
death-like,  motionless  silence  almost  overpow- 
ered him.  He  attempted,  by  the  gentlest  and 
the  kindest  words,  to  arouse  her  from  this 
stupor  of  grief.  He  took  her  hand ;  its  touch 
was  cold.  Again  and  again  he  called  her  name  ; 
but  her  ear  seemed  insensible  even  to  his  voice. 
At  length,  unable  to  bear  the  sight  of  her  dis- 
tres.=!,  and  fearful  that  he  might  no  longer  re- 
strain his  tongue  from  uttering  words  which 
would  be  treason  to  his  first  and  faithful  love, 
he  rushed  into  the  house,  and  hastily  informing 
Nina's  governess  that  her  pupil  had  been  sud- 
denly taken  ill  in  the  olive-grove,  he  locked 
himself  in  his  room,  and  gave  vent  to  the  con- 
tending emotions  by  which  he  was  oppressed. 

It  was  in  vain  that  he  strove  to  calm  himself 
by  the  refle'?tion  that  he  had  intentionally  trans- 
gressed none  of  the  demands  of  truth  and  hon- 
our ; — it  was  in  vain  that  he  called  up  all  the 
long-cherished  recollections  of  his  Lucy  and  his 
tome  ; — still  the  image  of  Nina  would  not  be 
banished  ;  now  presenting  itself  as  he  had  seen 
her  yesterday,  in  the  full  glow  of  passion,  and 
in  the  full  bloom  of  youthful  beauty, — and  now, 
as  he  had  just  left  her,  in  the  deadly  paleness 
and  fixed   apathy   of  despair.      The  terrible 


thought  that,  whether  guiltily  or  innocently,  he 
had  been  the  cause  of  all  this  suffering  in  one 
to  vi'hom  he  owed  protection  and  gratitude, 
wrung  his  heart  with  pain  that  he  could  not  re- 
press ;  and  he  found  relief  only  in  falling  on  hia 
knees,  and  praying  to  the  Almighty  that  the 
sin  might  not  be  laid  to  his  charge,  and  that 
Nina's  sorrow  might  be  soothed  and  comforted 
by  Him,  who  is  the  God  of  consolation. 

Meanwhile  the  governess  had,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  two  of  The  negro  attendants,  brought 
Nina  into  the  house.  The  poor  girl  continued 
in  the  same  state  of  insensibility  to  all  that  was 
passing  around  ;  her  eyes  were  open,  but  she 
seemed  to  recognize  no  one,  and  a  few  vague 
indistinct  words  still  trembled  on  her  lips. 

The  doctor  was  instantly  summoned,  who 
pronounced,  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  his  patient, 
that  she  was  in  a  dangerous  fit,  using  sundry 
mysterious  expressions  about  "  febrile  symp- 
toms," and  "  pressure  on  the  brain,"  to  which 
the  worthy  leech  added  shakings  of  the  head 
yet  more  mysterious. 

For  many  days  her  condition  continued  alarm- 
ing ;  the  tiireatened  fever  came,  and  with  it  a 
protracted  state  of  delirium.  During  this  pe- 
riod Ethelston's  anxiety  and  agitation  were 
extreme  ;  and  proportionate  was  the  relief  that 
he  experienced,  when  he  learned  that  the  crisis 
was  past,  and  that  the  youthful  strength  of  her 
constitution  promised  speedy  recovery. 

Meanwhile  he  had  to  endure  the  oft-repeated 
inquiries  of  the  Governess,  "  How  he  happened 
to  find  Mademoiselle  just  as  the  fit  came  onl" 
and  of  Madame  L'Estrange,  "  How  it  was  pos" 
sible  for  Nina  to  be  attacked  by  so  sudden  an 
illness,  while  walking  in  the  orange-grove]" 

When  she  was  at  length  pronounced  out  of 
danger,  Ethelston  again  began  to  consider  vari- 
ous projects  for  his  meditated  escape  from  the 
island.  He  had  more  than  once  held  communi- 
cation with  his  faithful  Cupid  on  the  subject, 
who  was  ready  to  brave  all  risks  in  the  service 
of  his  master;  but  the  distance  which  must  be 
traversed,  before  they  could  expect  to  find  a 
friendly  ship  or  coast,  seemed  to  exclude  all 
reasonable  hope  of  success. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  follow  and  pourtray 
the  thousand  changes  that  came  over  Nina's 
spirit  during  her  recovery.  She  remembered 
but  too  well  the  words  that  Ethekston  had  last 
spoken  ;  at  one  moment  she  called  him  perfidi- 
ous, ungrateful,  heartless ;  then  she  chid  her- 
self for  railing  at  him,  and  loaded  his  name  with 
every  blessing,  and  the  expression  of  the  fondest 
affection ;  now  she  resolved  that  she  would 
never  see  or  speak  to  him  more ;  then  sha 
thought  that  she  must  see  him,  if  it  were  onlj 
to  show  how  she  had  conquered  her  weakness. 
Amidst  all  these  contending  resolutions,  she 
worked  herself  into  the  belief  that  Ethelstoa 
had  deceived  her,  and  that,  because  he  thought 
her  a  child,  and  did  not  love  her,  he  had  invent- 
ed the  tale  of  his  previous  engagement  to  lessea 
her  mortification.  This  soon  became  her  set- 
tled conviction  ;  and  when  it  crossed  her  minJ, 
she  would  start  with  passion  and  exclaim,  "Ha 
shall  yet  love  me,  and  me,  alone  "" 

The  only  confidant  of  her  love  was  a  young 
negress  who  waited  upon  her,  and  who  was  in- 
deed so  devoted  to  her  that  she  would  have 
braved  the  Commodore's  utmost  wrath,  or  perii- 


46 


THE   PRAIRIE   BIRD. 


led  her  life  to  execute  her  mistress's  com- 
mands. 

It  happened  one  evening  that  this  girl,  whose 
name  was  Fanchelle,  went  out  to  gather  some 
fruit  in  the  orange-grove;  and  while. thus  em- 
ployed she  heard  the  voice  of  some  one  speak- 
ing. On  drawing  nearer  to  the  spot  whence  the 
»jund  proceeded,  she  saw  Ethelston  sitting  un- 
der the  deep  sliade  of  a  tree,  with  what  appear- 
ed a  book  before  him. 

Knowing  that  Nina  was  still  confined  to  her 
room,  he  had  resorted  hither  to  consider  his 
schemes  without  interruption,  and  was  so  busi- 
ly emph)ycd  in  comparing  distances,  and  calcu- 
lating possibilities,  on  the  map  before  him, 
that  Fancheite  easily  crept  to  a  place  whence 
she  could,  unperceived,  overhear  and  observe 
him.  "  I  must  and  will  attempt  it,"  he  mutter- 
ed alpud  to  himself,  "  we  must  steal  a  boat. 
Cupid  and  I  can  manage  it  between  us ;  my 
duty  and  my  love  both  forbid  my  staying  longer 
here;  with  a  fishing-boat  we  might  reach  An- 
tigua or  Dominica,  or  at  all  events  chance  to  fall 
in  with  an  American  or  a  neutral  vessel.  Poor 
dear  Nina,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "Would 
to  God  1  had  never  visited  this  shore  !  this,"  he 
contmued,  drawing  a  locket  from  his  breast, 
"this  treasured  remembrance  of  one  far  distant 
has  made  me  proof  against  thy  charms,  cold  to 
thy  love,  but  not,  as  Heaven  is  my  witness,  un- 
moved or  insensible  to  thy  sufferings."  So  say- 
ir.g  he  relapsed  into  silent  musing,  and  as  he  re- 
placed the  locket.  Fanchette  crept  noiselessly 
from  her  concealment,  and  ran  to  communicate 
'  to  her  young  mistress  her  version  of  what  she 
had  seen.  Being  very  imperfectly  skilled  in  En- 
glish, she  put  her  own  construction  upon  those 
fo\7  words  which  she  had  caught,  and  thought 
to  serve  Nina  best  by  telling  her  what  she  would 
most  like  to  hear.  Thus  she  described  to  her 
how  Ethelston  had  spoken  to  himself  over  a 
map  ;  how  he  had  mentioned  islands  to  which 
he  would  sail;  how  he  had  named  her  name 
with  tenderness,  and  had  taken  something  from 
his  vest  to  press  it  to  his  lips." 

Poor  Nina  listened  in  a  tumult  of  joy ;  her 
passionate  heart  would  admit  no  doubling  sug- 
gestion of  her  reason.  She  was  too  happy  to 
bear  even  the  presence  of  Fanchette,  and  re- 
warding her  for  her  good  news  by  the  present 
of  a  beautiful  shawl  which  she  wore  at  the  mo- 
ment, pushed  the  delighted  little  negress  out  of 
the  room,  and  threw  herself  on  a  couch,  where 
she  repeated  a  hundred  times  that  he  had  been 
to  her  orange-grove,  where  tiiey  had  last  parted, 
had  named  her  name  with  tenderness,  had  press- 
ed some  token  to  his  lips — what  could  that  bel 
It  might  be  a  flower,  a  booK,  anythmg — it  mat- 
tered not — so  long  as  she  only  knew  he  loved 
her  !  Having  long  wept  with  impassioned  joy, 
she  determined  to  show  herself  worthy  of  his 
love,  and  the  schemes  which  she  formed,  and 
resolved  to  carry  into  effect,  evinced  the  wild 
force  and  energy  of  her  romantic  character. 
Among  her  father's  slaves  was  one  who,  being 
a  steady  and  skilful  seaman,  had  the  charge  of 
a  schooner  (originally  an  American  prize)  which 
lay  in  the  harbour,  and  which  the  Commodore 
sometimes  used  as  a  pleasure-yacht,  or  for  short 
trips  to  other  parts  of  the  island :  this  man 
(whose  name  was  Jacques)  was  not  only  a 
great  favourite  with  the  young  lady,  but  was 


also  smitten  with  the  black  eyes  and  plump 
charms  of  M'amselle  Fanchette,  who  thus  ex- 
ercised over  him  a  sway  little  short  of  absolute. 
Nina  having  held  a  conference  with  her  ahigail. 
sent  for  Jacques,  who  was  also  admitted  to  a 
confidential  consultation,  the  result  of  which, 
after  occurrences  will  explain  to  the  reader. 
When  this  was  over,  she  acquired  rather  than 
assumed  a  sudden  composure  and  chcei  fulness  , 
the  delights  of  a  plot  seemed  at  once  to  restore 
her  to  health  ;  and  on  the  following  day  she  sent 
to  request  that  Ethelston  would  come  to  see  lier 
in  her  boudoir  where  she  received  him  wiih  a 
calmness  and  self-possession  for  whicl:  he  was 
altogether  unprepared.  "  Mr.  Ethelston,"  said 
she,  as  soon  as  lie  was  seated,  "  I  believe  you 
still  desire  to  escape  from  your  prison,  and  that 
you  are  devising  various  plans  for  effecting  that 
object ;  you  will  never  succeed  unless  you  call 
me  into  your  counsel." 

Ethelston,  though  extremely  surprised  at  the 
composure  of  her  manner  and  language,  replied 
with  a  smile,  "  M'amselle  Nina,  I  will  not  deny 
that  you  have  rightly  guessed  my  thoughts  ;  but 
as  your  father  is  my  jailor,  I  did  not  dare  to  ask 
your  counsel  in  this  matter." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Mentor,"  said  the  wayward  girl, 
"  how  does  your  wisdom  propose  to  act  without 
my  counsel !" 

"  I  confess  I  am  somewhat  at  a  loss,"  said 
Ethelston,  good-huniouredly  ;  "  I  must  go  either 
through  the  air  or  the  water,  and  the  latter,  being 
my  proper  element,  is  the  path  which  I  would 
rather  attempt." 

"And  what  should  you  think  of  me,  if  I  were 
to  play  the  traitoress,  and  aid  you  in  eluding  the 
vigilance  of  my  father,  and  afford  the  means  of 
escape  to  so  formidable  an  enemy  1" 

Ethelston  was  completely  puzzled  by  this 
playi'ul  tone  of  banter  in  one  whom  he  had  last 
seen  under  a  paroxysm  of  passion,  and  in  vihose 
dark  eye  there  yet  lurked  an  expression  which 
he  could  not  define  ;  but  he  resolved  to  continue 
the  conversation  in  the  same  spirit,  and  replied, 
"I  would  not  blame  you  for  this  act  of  filial  dis- 
obedience, and  though  no  longer  your  father's 
prisoner,  I  would,  if  I  escaped,  ever  remain  his 
J'riend." 

"And  would  you  show  no  gratitude  to  the 
lady  who  effected  your  release  !' 

"I  owe  her  already  more — far  more,  than  I 
can  pay  ;  and,  for  this  last  crowning  act  of  her 
generosity  and  kindness,  I  would — " 

As  he  hesitated,  she  inquired  abruptly,  "Yon 
would  what,  Ethelston?'  For  a  moment  she 
had  forgotten  the  part  she  was  acting,  and  both 
the  look  that  accompanied  these  words,  and  the 
tone  in  which  they  were  pronounct^d,  reminded 
him  that  he  stood  on  the  brink  of  a  volcanic  crater. 

"  I  would  give  her  any  proof  of  my  gratitude 
that  she  would  deign  to  accept,  yes  any,"'  he  re- 
peated earnestly,  '•  even  to  life  itself,  knowing 
that  she  is  too  noble  and  generous  to  accept 
aught  at  my  hands  which  faith  and  honour  for- 
bid me  to  offer." 

Nina  turned  aside  for  a  moment,  overcome 
by  her  emotion  ;  but  recovering  her»>ell  q  jickly, 
slie  added,  in  her  former  tone  of  pleasantry, 
"  She  will  not  impose  any  hard  conditions  ;  but 
to  the  purpose,  has  vour  sailor-eye  noticed  a 
certain  little  schooner  anchored  in  the  harbour  1" 

"W      i"  Ethelston,  eagerly,  "  a  beau 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


47 


tiful  craft  of  about  twenty  tons,  on  the  other 
Bide  of  the  bay?" 

"Even  the  same." 

"  Surely  I  have  I  She  is  American  built,  and 
ewims  like  a  duck." 

"Well  then,"  replied  Nina,  "I  think  I  shall 
do  no  great  harm  in  restoring  her  to  an  Ameri- 
can !  How  many  men  should  you  require  to 
manage  herT' 

"  I  could  sail  her  easily  with  one  able  seaman 
besides  my  black  friend  Cupid."' 

"Then,"  said  Nina,  "I  propose  to  lend  hei 
to  you  ;  you  may  send  her  back  at  your  conve- 
nience, and  I  will  also  provide  you  an  able  sea- 
man ;  write  me  a  list  of  the  stores  and  articles 
which  you  will  require  for  the  trip,  and  send  it 
me  in  an  hour's  time  :  prepare  your  own  bag 
gage,  and  he  ready  upon  the  shortest  notice ;  it 
is  now  my  turn  to  command  and  yours  to  obey. 
Good-bye.  Mr.  Mentor."  So  saying,  she  kissed 
her  hand  to  him  and  withdrew. 

Etliel.ston  rubbed  his  eyes  as  if  he  did  not  be- 
lieve their  evidence.  "  Could  this  merry,  ready- 
witted  girl  be  the  same  as  the  Nina  whom  he 
had  seen,  ten  days  before,  heart-broken,  and 
unable  to  conceal  or  repress  the  violence  of  her 
passion  V  The  longer  he  mused,  the  more  was 
he  puzzled  ;  and  he  came  at  length  to  a  conclu- 
sion at  which  many  more  wise  and  more  foolish 
than  himself  had  arrived,  that  a  woman's  mind, 
when  influenced  by  her  afTections,  is  a  riddle 
hard  to  be  solved.  He  had  not,  however,  much 
time  for  reflection,  and  being  resolved  at  ail  risks 
to  escape  from  the  island,  he  hastened  to  his 
room,  and  within  the  hour  specified  by  Nina, 
sent  her  a  list  of  the  stores  and  provisions  for 
the  voyage. 

Meanwhile  Fanchette  had  not  been  idle,  she 
had  painted  to  Jacques,  in  the  liveliest  colours, 
the  wealth,  beauty,  and  freedom  of  the  distant 
land  of  Ohio,  artfully  mingling  with  this  descrip 
tion  promises  and  allurements  v.hich  operated 
more  directly  on  the  feelmgs  of  her  black  swain. 
so  that  the  latter,  finding  himself  entreated  by 
Fanchette,  and  commanded  by  his  young  mis- 
tress, hesitated  no  longer  to  betray  his  trust  and 
desert  the  Commodore. 

Ethelston,  having  communicated  the  prosper- 
ous state  of  affairs  to  Cupid,  and  desired  him  to 
have  all  ready  for  immediate  escape,  hastened 
to  obey  another  summons  sent  to  him  by  Nina; 
he  found  her  in  a  mood  no  less 'cheerful  than 
before,  and  although  she  purposely  averted  her 
face,  a  smile,  the  meaning  of  which  he  could 
not  define,  played  round  the  corner  of  her  ex- 
pressive mouth.  Though  really  glad  to  escape 
homeward,  and  disposed  to  be  grateful  to  Nina 
for  her  aid,  he  could  not  help  feeling  angry  and 
vexed  at  the  capricious  eagerness  with  which 
ehe  busied  herself  in  contriving  the  departure  of 
one  to  wiiom  she  had  so  lately  given  the  stnmg- 
est  demonstration  of  tenderness  ;  and  although 
his  heart  told  him  that  he  could  not  love  her, 
there  was  something  in  this  easy  and  sudden 
withdrawal  of  her  affection  which  wounded  that 
self-love  from  which  the  best  of  men  are  not  al 
together  free.  These  feelings  gave  an  unusual 
coldness  and  constraint  to  his  manner,  when  he 
inquired  her  farther  commands. 

To  this  question  Nina  replied  by  saying, 
"Then,  Mr.  Ellielston,  you  are  quite  resolved 
to  le'ive  us,  and  to  risk  all  the  chances  and  per- 
ils of-'  i   voyage  I" 


"  Quite,"  he  replied  :  "  it  is  my  wish,  my  du 
ty,  and  my  firm  determination  ;  and  I  entered 
the  room,"  he  added  almost  in  a  tone  of  reproof, 
"  desirous  of  repeating  to  you  my  thanks  Ajf 
your  kind  assistance." 

Nina's  countenance  changed  ;  but  still  avert- 
ing it  from  Ethelston,  she  continued  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  And  do  you  leave  us  without  pa-n 
without  regret." 

There  was  a  tremor,  a  natural  feeling  it  tho 
tone  in  which  she  uttered  these  few  words,  .hat 
recalled  to  his  mind  all  that  he  had  seen  her 
suffer,  and  drove  from  it  the  harsh  thoughts 
which  he  had  begun  to  entertain,  and  he  an- 
swered in  a  voice  from  which  his  self-command 
could  not  banish  all  traces  of  emotion,  "  Dear 
Nina,  I  shall  leave  you  with  regret  that  would 
amount  to  misery,  if  I  thought  that  my  visit  had 
brought  any  permanent  unhappiness  into  this 
house.  I  desire  to  leave  you  as  a  Mentor  should 
leave  a  beloved  pupil — as  a  brother  leaves  a 
sister :  with  a  full  hope  that  when  I  am  gone 
you  will  fulfil  your  parents'  wishes,  your  own 
auspicious  destinies,  and  that,  after  years  and 
years  of  happiness  ainong  those  whom  Fate 
has  decreed  to  be  the  companions  of  your  life, 
you  will  look  back  upon  me  as  upon  a  faithful 
adviser  of  your  youth, — an  affectionate  friend 
who " 

Nina's  nerves  were  not  strung  for  the  pari 
she  had  undertaken  ;  gradually  her  countenance 
had  grown  pale  as  marble;  a  choking  sensa- 
tion oppressed  her  throat,  and  she  sunk  in  a 
chair,  sobbing,  rather  than  uttering,  the  word 
"Water."  It  was  fortunately  at  hand,  and 
having  placed  it  in  a  glass  by  her  side,  Ethel- 
ston retired  to  the  window  to  conceal  his  own 
emotion,  and  to  allow  time  for  that  of  Nina  to 
subside. 

After  a  few  minutes  she  recovered  her  self- 
possession  ;  and  although  still  deadly  pale,  her 
voice  was  distinct  and  firm,  as  she  said,  "  Ethel- 
ston, I  am  ashamed  of  this  weakness  ;  but  it  is 
over :  we  will  not  speak  of  the  past,  and  will 
leave  to  fate  the  future.  Now  listen  to  me  : 
all  the  arrangements  for  j-our  departure  will  be 
complete  by  to-morrow  evening.  At  an  hour 
before  midnight  a  small  boat,  with  one  man,  will 
be  at  the  Quai  dn  Marche,  below  the  place  St. 
Louis.  It  is  far  from  the  fort,  and  there  is  no 
sentry  near  the  spot ;  you  can  then  row  to  the 
vessel  and  depart.  But  is  it  not  too  dangerous?" 
she  added  ;  "  Can  you  risk  it  1  for  the  wind 
whistles  terribly,  and  I  fear  the  approach  of  a 
hurricane  !" 

Ethelston's  eye  brightened  as  he  replied,  "  A 
rough  night  is  the  fairest  for  the  purpose,  Nina." 

"  Be  it  so,"  she  replied.  "  Now,  in  return 
for  all  that  I  have  done  for  you,  there  is  only 
one  favour  I  have  to  ask  at  yoar  hands." 

"  Name  it."  said  Ethelston,  eagerly. 

"  There  is,"  she  continued,  "  a  poor  sick 
youth  in  the  town,  the  child  of  respectable  pa- 
rents in  New  Orleans ;  he  desires  to  go  home, 
if  it  be  only  to  die  there  ;  and  a  nurse  will  take 
care  of  hiin  on  the  passage  if  you  will  let  him  go 
with  you  ]" 

"  Assuredly  I  will,"  said  Ethelston  ;  "  and 
will  take  as  much  care  of  him  as  if  he  were  my 
brother." 

"Nay,"  said  Nina,  "they  tell  me  he  is  order- 
ed  to  be  perfectly  quiet,  and  no  one  attends  him 


48 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


but  the  nurse  ;  neither  will  he  give  any  trouhle, 
as  the  c(>xswain  says  the.re  is  a  small  cabin 
wiiere  he  can  leniain  aloiu>  and  undisiurbed." 

"  You  may  drprnd,"  said  Kllielston,  "  ihat  all 
your  oiilcrs  about  bini  shall  bo  I'aithfiilly  per- 
formed ;  and  I  will  see,  if  I  live,  that  he  reach- 
es his  home  in  safety." 

"  He  and  his  nurse  will  be  on  board  be  for  ■ 
you,"  said  Nina  :  "  and  as  soon  as  you  reach 
the  vessel,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  escape 
as  quick  as  you  can.  Now  I  must  bid  you 
farewell  !  I  may  not  have  spirits  to  sec  you 
again  !"  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  ;  it  was 
cold  as  ice  ;  her  face  was  still  half-averted,  and 
her  whole  frame  treml)led  violently. 

Ethelston  took  the  offered  hand,  and  pressed 
it  to  his  lips,  saying,  "  A  thousand,  thousand 
thanks  for  all  your  kindness  !  If  I  reach  home 
alive  I  will  make  your  honoured  father  ample 
amends  for  the  theft  of  his  schooner  ;  and  if  ever 
you  have  an  opportunity  to  let  me  know  that 
vou  are  well  and  happy,  do  not  forget  that  such 
news  will  always  gladden  my  heart."  He 
turned  to  look  ut  her  as  he  went ;  he  doubted 
whether  the  cold  rigid  apathy  of  her  form  and 
coimtenance  was  that  of  despair  or  of  indiffer- 
ence ;  but  he  dared  not  trust  himself  longer  in 
hei  presence  ;  and  as  he  left  the  room  she  sunk 
on  the  chair  against  which  she  had  been  leaning 
for  support. 

When  Ethelston  found  himself  alone,  he  col- 
lected his  thoughts,  and  endeavoured  in  vain 
to  account  for  the  strange  deportment  of  Nina 
in  bidding  him  farewell.  The  coolness  of  her 
manner,  the  abrupt  brevity  of  her  parting  ad- 
dress, had  surprised  him  ;  and  yet  the  tremor, 
the  emotion,  amounting  almost  to  fainting,  the 
forced  tone  of  voice  in  which  she  had  spoken, 
all  forbad  him  to  hope  that  she  had  overcome 
her  unhappy  passion  ;  he  was  grieved  that  he 
had  scarcely  parted  from  her  in  kindness,  and 
the  pity  with  whicli  he  regarded  her  was,  for 
the  moment,  almost  akin  to  love. 

Shaking  off  this  temporary  weakness,  he  em- 
ployed himself  forthwith  in  the  preparations  for 
his  departure;  among  the  first  of  wliich  was  a 
letter,  which  he  wrote  to  Captain  L'Estrange, 
and  left  upon  his  table.  On  the  following  day 
he  never  once  saw  Nina  ;  hut  he  heard  from 
one  of  the  slaves  that  she  was  confined  to  her 
room  by  severe  headach. 

The  wind  blew  with  unabated  force,  the  even- 
ing was  dark  and  lowering,  as,  at  the  appointed 
hour,  Ethelston,  accompanied  by  his  faithful 
Cupid,  left  the  house  with  noiseless  step.  They 
reached  the  boat  without  obstruction  ;  pushed 
off,  and  in  ten  minutes  were  safe  on  deck  ;  the 
coxswain  whispered  that  all  was  ready  ;  the 
boat  was  hoisted  up,  the  anchor  weighed,  and 
the  schooner  was  soon  dashing  the  foam  from 
her  bows  on  the  open  sea. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

What  took  place  at  Mooshanne  during  tlie  stay  of  Ethel- 
«(»n  in  Guudaluupe. — Departure  of  Keginald  lor  tlie 
far-west. 

While  the  events  'elated  in  the  last  two 
chapters  occurred  at  Guadaloupe,  Reginald  was 
busily  employed  at  Mooshanna  in  completing 
the  preparations  for  his  projected  visit  to  the 


Delavvares,  in  the  Far-west ;  he  had  (by  puttin* 
in  practice  the  instructions  given  him  by  War- 
Eagle  respecting  Nekimi)  at  length  succeeded 
m  gaining  that  noble  animal's  afTection  ;  he 
neighed  at  Reginald's  approa(di,  knew  and 
obeyed  his  voice,  fed  from  his  hand,  and  re- 
ceived and  returned  his  caresses,  as  he  had 
before  done  those  of  his  Indian  master.  It  waa 
when  mounted  on  Nekimi  that  our  hero  found 
his  spirit  most  exulting  and  buoyant ;  he  gave 
him  the  rein  on  the  broadest  of  the  neighbour- 
ing prairies,  and  loved  to  feel  the  springy  tleet- 
ness  and  untiring  muscles  of  this  child  of  the 
western  desert.  Sometimes,  after  a  gallf)p  of 
many  miles,  he  would  leap  from  the  saddle,  to 
look  with  pride  and  pleasure  on  the  spirited 
eye,  the  full  veins,  the  expanded  nostril  of  his« 
favourite  ;  at  other  times  he  would  ride  him 
slowly  through  the  most  tangled  and  difficult 
ground,  admiring  the  instinctive  and  unerrino^ 
sagacity  with  which  he  picked  his  way. 

Among  Reginald's  other  accompli-shments, 
he  had  learned  in  Germany  to  play  not  unskil- 
fully on  the  horn  ;  and  constantly  carrying  his 
bugle  across  his  shoulders,  Nekimi  grew  so  ac- 
customed to  the  sound,  that  he  would  come  to 
it  from  any  distance  within  hearing  of  its  call. 
It  appeared  to  Reginald  so  probable  that  the 
bugle  might  render  him  good  service  on  his 
summer  excursion,  that  he  not  only  practised 
his  horse  to  it,  but  he  prevailed  on  Bapliste  to 
learn  his  various  signals,  and  even  to  reply  on 
another  horn  to  some  of  the  simplest  of  them. 
The  honest  guide's  first  attempts  to  sound  the 
bugle  were  ludicrous  in  the  extreme ;  but  he 
good-humouredly  persevered,  until  Reginald 
and  he  could,  from  a  considerable  distance, 
exchange  many  useful  signals  agreed  upon  be 
twcen  them,  and  of  course  intelligible  to  none 
hut  themselves.  Among  these  were  the  follow- 
ing: "Beware  !" — "Come  to  me," — "Be  still," 
— "  Bring  my  horse,"  and  one  or  two  others  for 
hunting  purposes,  such  as  "A  bear!" — "Buffa- 
lo!" To  these  they  added  a  reply,  which  was 
always  to  signify  "I  understand."  But  if  the 
party  called  was  prevented  from  obeying,  this 
signal  was  to  be  varied  accordingly. 

At  the  same  time  Reginald  did  not  omit  to 
learn  from  the  guide  a  number  of  Delaware 
words  and  phrases,  in  order  that  when  he  ar- 
rived among  his  new  friends  he  might  not  be 
altogether  excluded  from  communication  wish 
such  of  them  as  should  not  understand  Eng- 
lish ;  in  these  preparations,  and  occasional 
hunts  in  company  with  Baptiste,  his  lime  would 
have  glided  on  agreeably  enough,  had  he  not 
observed  with  anxiety  the  settled  melancholy 
that  was  gradually  creeping  over  his  sister  Lu- 
cy ;  it  was  in  vain  that  he  strove  to  comfort  hei 
by  reminding  her  of  the  thousand  trifling  acci- 
dents that  might  have  detained  Ethelston  in 
the  West  Indies,  and  have  prevented  his  letters 
from  reaching  home.  She  smiled  upon  him 
kindly  for  his  well-meant  endeavours,  and  not 
only  abstained  from  all  complaint,  but  tried  to 
take  her  part  in  conversation ;  yet  he  saw 
plainly  that  her  cheerfulness  was  forced,  and 
that  secret  sorrow  was  at  her  heart.  She  em- 
ployed herself  assiduously  in  tending  her  moth- 
er, whose  health  had  of  late  become  exceed- 
ingly precarious,  and  who  was  almost  always 
confined  to  her  apartments.    Lucy  worked  by 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


4d 


her  side,  conversed  with  her.  read  to  her,  and 
did  all  in  her  power  to  hide  from  her  the  grief 
that  possessed  her  own  bosom.  Reginald 
marked  the  struggle,  which  strengthened,  if 
possible,  the  love  that  he  had  always  felt  for  his 
exemplary  and  afiectionate  sister. 

One  day  he  was  sitting  with  her  in  the  bou- 
doir, which  commanded,  as  we  have  before 
observed,  a  view  of  the  approach  to  the  house, 
where  they  saw  a  horseman  coming  at  full 
speed.  As  he  drew  near,  he  seemed  to  be  a 
middle-aged  man,  wearing  a  broad-brimmed 
hat,  a  coarse  over-coat,  and  loose  trowsers ; 
his  knees  were  high  up  on  the  saddle,  and  he 
rode  in  so  careless  and  reckless  a  manner,  that 
it  was  marvellous  how  the  uncouth  rider  could 
remain  on  his  horse  in  a  gallop.  Reginald 
threw  open  the  window;  and  as  the  strange- 
looking  figure  caught  a  sight  of  him,  the  steed 
was  urged  yet  faster,  and  the  broad-brimmed 
hat  was  waved  in  token  of  recognition. 

"  Now  Heaven  be  praised!"  exclaimed  Regi- 
nald aloud;  "'tis  Gregson,  the  mate!"  He 
turned  towards  his  sister:  the  blood  had  fled 
from  her  cheeks  and  lip,  her  hands  were  clasped 
together,  and  she  whispered  in  a  voice  scarcely 
articulate,  "  Heaven  be  merciful!" 

"Nay,  Lucy,"  said  her  sanguine  brother, 
"why  this  grief  1  are  you  not  glad  that  the 
Pride  is  returned  1" 

"Oh,  Reginald!"  said  Lucy,  looking  on  him 
reproachfully  through  the  tears  which  now 
streamed  from  her  eyes.  "Think  you  that  if 
he  had  been  alive  and  well,  he  would  have  al- 
lowed another  to  come  here  before  him !  Go 
and  speak  to  the  man — I  cannot  see  him — you 
H'lU  return  and  tell  me  all." 

Reginald  felt  the  reproof,  and  kissing  her  af- 
fectionately, hastened  from  the  room. 

Who  shall  attempt  to  lift  the  veil  from  Lucy's 
heart  during  the  suspense  of  the  succeeding 
minutes  ?  It  is  fortunate  for  human  nature, 
that  at  such  a  moment  the  mind  is  too  confused 
to  be  conscious  of  its  own  sufferings;  the  min- 
gled emotions  of  hope  and  fear,  the  half-breathed 
prayer,— the  irresistible  desire  to  learn,  con- 
tending with  the  dread  of  more  assured  misery, 
— all  these  unite  in  producing  that  agony  of 
suspense  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe  in 
words,  and  of  which  the  mind  of  the  sufferer 
can  scarcely  realize  afterwards  a  distinct  im- 
pression. 

After  a  short  absence,  Reginald  returned,  and 
said  to  his  sister,  "Lucy,  Ethelston  is  not  here, 
but  he  is  alive  and  safe." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  brother's  breast,  and 
found  relief  in  a  flood  of  grateful  tears.  As  soon 
as  Lucy  had  recovered  her  composure,  her 
brother  informed  her  of  Ethelston's  captivity, 
and  of  the  serious,  though  not  dangerous 
wounds,  that  he  had  received  ;  but  he  mingled 
with  the  narration  such  warm  praises  of  his 
friend's  heroic  defence  of  the  brig,  and  so  many 
sanguine  assurances  of  his  speedy  release  and 
return,  that  her  fears  and  her  anxiety  were  for 
a  time  absorbed  in  the  glow  of  pride  with  which 
she  listened  to  the  praises  of  her  lover's  con- 
duct, and  in  the  anticipation  of  soon  having  his 
adventures  from  his  own  lips.  The  faithful 
mate  received  a  kind  welcome  from  the  Colo- 
nel, and  though  the  latter  had  sustained  a  severe 
loss  in  ^he  brig,  he  viewed  it  as  a  misfortune 


for  which  no  one  could  be  blamed  ;  and  directed 
all  his  anxiety  and  his  inquiries  to  the  condition 
of  Ethelston,  whom  he  loved  as  his  own  son. 

"  Depend  on't.  Colonel,"  said  Gregson,  "  he'll 
come  to  no  harm  where  he  is,  for  L'Estrange 
is  a  fine  old  fellow,  and  Master  Ethelston  saved 
his  son's  neck  from  my  cutlass.  I  was  cuttin' 
at  him  in  downright  airnest,  for  my  dander  was 
up,  and  you  know,  Colonel,  a  man  a'nt  particu- 
lar nice  in  a  deck  scurry  like  that !" 

"  And  what  made  him  so  anxious  to  save  the 
youngster  1"  inquired  the  Colonel. 

"  Why,  I  s'pose  he  thought  the  day  was  our 
own,  and  the  lieutenant  too  smart  a  lad  to  be 
roughly  handled  for  naught ;  but  the  young  mad- 
cap put  a  pistol-ball  into  his  arm  by  way  of 
thanks." 

"  Well,  and  did  Ethelston  still  protect  himr' 

"  Ay,  sir,  all  the  same.  I've  served  with  a 
number  of  captains  o'  one  sort  or  other,  smug- 
glers, and  slave-cruizers,  and  old  Burt,  that  the 
Cuba  pirates  used  to  called  Gunpowder  Jack, 
but  I  will  say  I  never  saw  a  better  man  than 
Ethelston  step  a  deck,  whether  it's  '  up  stick  and 
make  sail,'  or  a  heavy  gale  on  a  lee-shore,  or  a 
game  at  long  bowls,  or  a  hammer-away  fight  at 
yard-arm  to  yard-arm,  it's  all  one  to  our  skip- 
per, he's  just  as  cool  and  seems  as  well  pleas- 
ed, as  when  it's  a  free  breeze,  a  clear  sea,  and 
Black  Cupid  has  piped  to  dinner." 

"  He  is  a  gallant  young  fellow,"  said  the  Col- 
onel, brushing  a  little  moisture  from  the  corner 
of  his  eye  ;  "  and  we  will  immediately  take  all 
possible  measures  for  his  hberation,  both  by 
applying,  through  Congress,  for  his  exchange, 
and  by  communicating  with  the  French  agents 
at  New  Orleans." 

The  conversation  was  protracted  for  some 
time,  and  after  its  termination,  the  mate  having 
satisfied  himself  that  the  Mooshanne  cider  had 
lost  none  of  its  flavour,  and  that  Monsieur  Fer- 
ret's flask  contained  genuine  cognac,  returned 
in  high  spirits  to  Marietta. 

The  preparations  for  Reginald's  expedition 
now  went  briskly  forward,  as  the  business 
which  the  Colonel  wished  him  to  transact  with 
the  trading  companies,  on  the  Mississippi  did 
not  admit  of  delay.  A  large  canoe  was  fitted 
out  at  Marietta,  capable  of  containing  sixteen  or 
eighteen  persons,  and  possessing  sufficient 
stowage  for  the  provisions  and  goods  required  ; 
the  ch^arge  of  it  was  given  to  an  experienced 
Voyageur,  who  had  more  than  once  accompa- 
nied Baptiste  in  his  excursions  to  the  Upper 
Mississippi  and  the  Great  Lakes  ;  he  was  a 
steady  determined  man.  on  whose  fidelity  reli 
ance  might  be  placed,  and  well  calculated,  from 
the  firmness  of  his  character,  to  keep  in  order 
the  rough  and  sturdy  fellows  who  formed  his 
crew.  Born  and  bred  in  that  wild  border  re- 
gion which  now  forms  the  State  of  Michigan, 
the  woods,  rapids,  and  lakes  had  been  familiar 
to  him  from  his  childhood  ;  unlike  most  of  his 
tribe,  he  was  singularly  grave  and  taciturn  ;  he 
always  wore  a  bearskin  cap,  and  whether  in  bis 
bateau,  his  canoe,  or  his  log-hut,  his  bed  was  ol 
the  same  material,  so  that  he  was  known  only 
by  the  name  of  "  Bearskin  ;"  his  paternal  ap- 
pellation, whatever  it  might  have  been  original- 
ly,  having  become  altogether  obsolete  and  un- 
known. °His  crew  consisted  of  four  stout  fel- 
lows, who,  like  most  of  the  Indian  borderers 


50 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


were  aa  skilful  in  the  use  of  the  paddle  on  the 
river  as  in  that  of  the  rifle  oe,  the  land.  Among 
them  was  the  gigantic  form  of  Mike  Smith,  be- 
fore mentioned  in  this  narrative  ;  all  these  were 
engaged  by  the  Colonel,  at  a  liberal  salary,  for 
6ix  months,  which  was  to  be  proportionately 
increased  if  they  were  detained  in  his  service 
for  a  longer  period.  It  was  also  settled  that 
Monsieur  Gustave  Perrot  should  take  his  pas- 
sage in  the  canoe  ;  and  to  his  care  were  en- 
trusted the  Indian  presents,  clothes,  and  other 
articles,  which  were  his  master's  own  property. 
Reginald  had  resolved  to  cross  the  Territory  on 
horseback,  accompanied  by  Baptiste,  and  he 
therefore  meant  to  carry  with  him  only  such 
arms,  and  other  articles,  as  were  likely  to  be 
required  on  the  journey. 

The  orders  given  to  Bearskin  were  to  make 
the  best  of  his  way,  to  St.  Louis,  and  having 
delivered  the  letters  with  which  he  was  en- 
trusted, there  to  await  Reginald's  arrival.  The 
cargo  of  the  canoe  consisted  chiefly  (with  the 
exception  of  a  full  supply  of  arms  and  provi- 
sions) of  powder,  cutlery,  clothes  of  various 
colours,  paints,  mirrors,  and  a  great  variety  of 
beads.  Her  equipment  was  soon  completed, 
and  she  left  Marietta  amid  the  cheers  of  the 
crowd  assembled  on  the  wooden  pier  in  front  of 
David  Muir's  store,  the  latter  observing  to  our 
old  friend  the  mate,  who  stood  at  his  elbow, 
"  I'm  thinking,  Maister  Gregson,  they  chaps 
will  hae  eneugli  o'  the  red-skin  deevils,  an'  fur- 
kuntm'  amongst  a  wheen  wild  trappers  and  daft 
neer-do-weels  ayont  the  Mississippi  !  Weel  a 
weel,  ye  maun  just  step  ben  and  tak'  a  stoup  o' 
cognac  to  the  success  o'  Bearskin  and  his  crew." 

Although  there  was  much  in  the  merchant's 
harangue  that  was  like  Greek  or  Hebrew  to  tiie 
mate,  the  closing  invitation  being  adapted  as 
well  to  his  comprehension  as  to  his  inclination, 
he  expressed  a  brief  but  cheerful  acquiescence, 
and  the  worthy  couple  entered  the  house  to- 
gether. As  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  the 
parlour,  Jessie  placed  on  the  table  some  excel- 
lent corn-cakes  and  cheese,  together  with  the 
before-mentioned  cognac,  and  busied  herself 
with  even  more  than  her  wonted  alacrity,  to 
offer  these  good  things  to  the  father  of  the 
youth  towards  whom  she  entertained,  as  we 
have  said,  a  secret  but  very  decided  partiali- 
ty. She  carried  her  hospitality  so  far  as  to 
bring  a  bottle  of  old  madeira  from  David's  fa- 
vourite corner  in  the  cellar,  which  she  decanted 
with  great  dexterity,  and  placed  before  the  mate. 
The  jolly  tar  complimented  the  merchant,  after 
his  own  blunt  fashion,  both  on  the  excellence 
of  his  liquor,  and  the  attractions  of  his  daugh- 
ter, saying,  in  reference  to  the  latter,  "  I  can 
tell  you.  Master  Muir,  that  I  hold  Jessie  to  be 
as  handsome  and  as  handy  a  lass  as  any  in  the 
territory.  If  I  were  twenty  years  younger,  I 
should  be  very  apt  to  clap  on  all  sail,  and  try  to 
make  a  prize  of  her  !" 

At  this  moment  his  son  entered  from  the 
Btore,  under  the  pretext  of  speaking  to  David 
about  the  sale  of  some  goods,  but  with  the  ob- 
ject of  being  for  a  few  minutes  near  to  Jessie. 
He  had  never  spoken  to  her  of  love,  being 
afraid  that  his  suit  would  certainly  be  rejected 
by  her  parents,  who,  from  their  reputed  wealth, 
would  doubtless  expect  to  marry  their  daugh- 
tt  r  to  one  of  the  principal  personages  in  the 


commonwealth  of  Marietta.  As  lie  entered, 
his  eyes  encountered  those  of  Jessie,  who  was 
still  blushing  from  the  effect  of  the  conipli:iient 
paid  to  her  by  his  father. 

"Harry,  my  boy,"  shouted  the  male,  "  yois 
are  just  come  in  lime  ;  I  have  filled  a  gla.'js  of 
David's  prime  84,  and  you  must  give  me  a  toast ! 
Now,  my  lad,  speak  up  ;  heave  a-head  !" 

"  Father,  I  am  ashamed  of  you  !"  replied  the 
youth,  colouring.  "  How  can  you  ask  for  ano- 
ther toast  when  Miss  Jessie's  standing  at  your 
elbow !" 

"  The  boy's  right,"  said  the  sailor,  "  and  he 
shall  drink  it,  too  ;  shan't  he  David  1" 

"  I'm  thinking  y'll  no  need  to  ask  him  twice. 
Jessie,  hand  the  lad  a  glass  !" 

At  her  father's  bidding  she  brought  another 
glass  from  the  cupboard  ;  and  in  giving  it  to 
young  Gregson,  one  or  other  of  them  was  so 
awkward,  that  instead  of  it  he  took  her  hand  in 
his ;  and  although  he  relinquished  it  immedi- 
ately, there  was  a  pressure,  unconscious  per- 
haps, but  so  distinctly  perceptible  to  Jessie, 
that  she  blushed  still  deeper,  and  felt  almost  re- 
lieved by  hearing  her  name  called  from  the 
store  in  the  loudest  key  of  her  mother's  shrill 
voice,  while  it  was  repeated  yet  more  loudly  by 
the  honest  mate,  who  gave  the  toast  as  she  left 
the  room,  "  Here's  Jessie  Muir, — a  long  life  and 
a  happy  one  to  her  !" 

Henry  Gregson  drank  the  madeira,  but  he 
scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  sweet  or  sour, 
for  his  blood  still  danced  with  the  touch  of  Jes- 
sie's hand  ;  and  setting  down  the  glass,  he  re- 
turned abruptly  to  the  store,  whether  in  the 
hope  of  stealing  another  look  at  her,  or  to  en- 
joy his  own  reflections  on  the  last  few  minutes, 
the  reader  may  determine  for  himself 

The  mate  and  the  merchant  continued  theii 
sitting  until  the  bottle  of  madeira  was  empty, 
and  the  flask  of  cogniac  was  considerably  di- 
minished ;  and  although  their  conversation  was 
doubtless  highly  interesting,  and  worthy  of  being 
listened  to  with  the  greatest  attention,  yet,  as  it 
did  not  bear  immediately  upon  tiie  events  of  our 
narrative,  we  will  leave  it  unrecorded,  among 
the  many  other  valuable  treasures  of  a  similar 
kind,  which  are  suffered  day  by  day  to  sink  into 
oblivion. 

M.  Perrot  being  now  fairly  under  way,  and 
having  taken  with  him  all  the  articles  required 
by  Reginald  for  his  Indian  expedition,  our  hero 
resolved  no  longer  to  delay  his  own  departure, 
being  about  to  encounter  a  very  tedious  land 
journey  before  he  could  reach  St.  Louis,  and 
being  also  desirous  of  performing  it  by  easy 
marches,  in  order  that  Nekimi  might  arrive  at 
the  Osage  hunting-camp  fresh,  and  ready  for 
any  of  those  emergencies  in  which  success 
might  depend  upon  his  strength  and  swiftness. 
Baptiste  was  now  quite  in  his  element ;  and  an 
early  day  being  fixed  for  their  departure,  he  pack- 
ed the  few  clothes  and  provisions  which  they 
were  likely  to  require  on  the  journey,  in  two 
capacious  leather  bags,  which  were  to  be  .'•lung 
across  the  rough  hardy  nag  which  had  accom- 
panied him  on  more  than  one  distant  expedition, 
and  he  was  soon  able  to  announce  to  Reginald 
that  he  was  ready  to  start  at  an  hour's  notice 

The  parting  of  our  hero  from  his  family  was 
somewhat  trying  to  his  firmness ;  for  poor  Lucy 
whose  nerves  were  much  affected  by  her  own 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


51 


sorrows,  could  not  control  her  grief;  Aunt  Mary 
also  shed  tears,  while,  mingled  with  her  repeat- 
ed blessings  and  excellent  counsel,  she  gave 
tiim  several  infallible  recipes  for  the  cure  of  cuts, 
bruises,  and  the  bite  of  rattle-snakes.  The  Col- 
9nel  squeezed  his  hand  with  concealed  emotion, 
and  bade  him  remember  those  whom  he  left  be- 
hind, and  not  incur  any  Riolish  risk  in  the  pur- 
suit of  ariuisement,  or  in  the  excitement  of  In- 
dian adventure.  But  it  was  in  parting  with  his 
mother  that  his  feelings  underwent  the  severest 
trial,  for  her  health  had  long  been  gradually  de- 
;lining ;  and  although  she  evinced  the  resigned 
composure  which  marked  her  gentle  uncomplain- 
ing character,  there  was  a  deep  solemnity  in  her 
farewell  benediction,  arising  from  a  presentiment 
that  they  might  not  meet  again  on  this  side  of 
the  grave.  It  required  all  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery  through  which  he  passed,  and  all  the 
constitutional  buoyancy  of  his  spirits,  to  enable 
Reginald  to  shake  off  the  sadness  which  crept 
over  him,  when  he  caught  from  a  rising  ground 
the  last  glimpse  of  Mooshanne  ;  but  the  fresh 
elasticity  of  youth  ere  long  prevailed,  and  he  ran 
his  fingers  through  the  glossy  mane  that  hung 
over  Nekimi's  arching  crest,  anticipating  with 
pleasure  the  wild  adventures  by  flood  and  field 
that  they  would  share  together. 

Reginald  wore  the  deer-skin  hunting-suit  that 
we  have  before  described  ;  his  rifle  he  had  sent 
with  the  canoe,  the  bugle  was  slung  across  his 
shoulders,  a  brace  of  horse-pistols  were  in  the 
holsters,  and  a  hunting  knife  hanging  at  his  gir- 
dle completed  his  equipment.    The  sturdy  guide 
was  more  heavily  armed  ;  for  besides  his  long 
rifle,  which  he  never  quitted,  a  knife  hung  on 
one  side  of  his  belt,  and  at  the  other  was  slung 
the  huge  axe  which  had  procured  him  the  name 
by  which  he  was  known  among  some  of  the 
tribes  ;  but  in  spite  of  these  accoutrements,  and 
of  the  saddle-bags  before-mentioned,  his  hardy 
nag  paced  along  with  an  enduring  vigour  that 
would  hardly  have  been  expected  from  one  of 
so  coarse  and  unprom.ising  an  exterior ;  some- 
times their  way  lay  through  the  vast  prairies 
•which  were  still  found  in  the  states  Indiana  and 
Illinois  ;  at  others  among  dense  woods  and  rich 
valleys,  through  which  flowed  the  various  tribu- 
taries that  swell  Ohio's  mighty  stream,  the  guide 
losing  no  opportunity  of  explaining  to  Reginald 
as  they  went,  all  the  signs  and  secret  indications 
of  Indian  or  border  w^oodcraft  that  occurred. 
They  met  with  abundance  of  deer,  and  at  night 
they  made  their  fire  ;  and  having  finished  their 
venison  supper,  camped  under  the  shelter  of 
some  ancient  oak  or  sycamore.   Thus  Reginald's 
hardy  frame  became  on  this  preliminary  journey 
more  inured  to  the  exposure  that  he  would  have 
to  undergo  among  the  Osages  and  Delawares 
of  the  Far- west ;  they  fell  in  now  and  then  with 
straggling  bands  of  hunters  and  of  friendly  In- 
dians, but  with  no  adventures  worthy  of  record  ; 
and  thus,  after  a  steady  march  of  twenty  days, 
they  reached  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
crossed  in  the  ferry  to  St.  Louis. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Escape  of  Ethelston  from  Guadaloupe,  and  the  Conse- 
quences whicli  ensued  from  that  Expedition. 

We  left  Ethelston  on  the  deck  of  the  little 


schooner,  which  was  bearing  him  rapioly  from 
the  shores  of  Guadaloupe,  under  the  intluence  of 
au  easterly  wind,  so  strong  that  all  his  attention 
was  absorbed  in  the  management  of  the  vessel. 
During  the  night  the  gale  increased,  and  blew 
with  unabated  violence  for  Ibrtj'-eight  hours. 
'■  The  Sea-gull,"  for  so  she  was  called,  scudded 
lightly  before  it;  and  on  the  third  day  Ethel- 
ston had  made  by  his  log  upwards  of  live  hun- 
dred miles  of  westerly  course. 

Having  only  two  hands  on  board,  and  ."he 
weather  being  so  uncommonly  boisterous,  he 
had  been  kept  in  constant  employment,  and  had 
only  been  able  to  snatch  a  few  brief  intervals  for 
sleep  and  refreshment;  he  found  Jacques  the 
coxswain  an  active  able  seaman,  but  extremely 
silent  and  reserved,  obe3nng  exactly  the  orders 
he  received,  but  scarcely  uttering  a  word  even  to 
Cupid;  it  was  he  alone  who  attended  upon  the 
invalid  and  the  nurse  in  the  after  cabin ;  and  the 
weather  having  now  moderated,  Ethelston  asked 
how  the  youth  had  borne  the  pitching  and  toss- 
ing of  the  vessel  during  the  late  gale.  Jacques 
replied,  that  he  was  not  worse,  and  seemed  not 
to  suffer  from  the  sea.  The  captain  was  satis- 
fied, and  retired  to  his  cabin;  he  had  not  been 
there  long,  before  Cupid  entered ;  and  carefully 
shutting  Uie  door  behind  him,  stood  before  his 
master  with  a  peculiar  expression  of  counte- 
nance, which  the  latter  well  knew  to  intimate 
some  unexpected  intelligence. 

"  Well,  Cupid,  what  is  itl"  said  Ethelston,  "  is 
there  a  suspicious  sail  in  sight  1" 

"Very  suspicious,  Massa  Ethelston,"  replied 
the  Black,  grinning  and  lowering  his  voice  tc  a 
whisper,  "  and  suspicious  goods  aboard  the 
schooner." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Cupid  V 
"  There  is  some  trick  aboard.  I  not  like  that 
Jacques  that  never  speak,  and  I  not  like  that 
sick  bov  and  his  nurse,  that  nobody  never  see." 
"  But  why  should  you  be  angry,  Cupid,  with 
the  poor  hoy  because  he  is  sick"?  I  have  prom- 
ised to  deliver  him  safe  to  his  friends  at  New 
Orleans,  and  I  hope  soon,  with  this  breeze,  to 
perform  my  promise." 

"Massa' Ethelston,  I  believe  it  all  one  damn 
trick — I  not  believe  there  is  one  sick  boy;  when 
Jacques  come  in  and  go  out  of  that  cabin  he 
creep,  and  look,  and  listen,  and  watch  like  the 
Colonel's  grey  cat  at  the  cheese  cupboard;  Cu- 
pid no  pretend  to  much  learnin',  but  he  no  be 
made  fool  of  by  damn  French  nigger,  and  he  no 
tell  Massa  Ethelston  a  lie."  So  saying,  the 
African  withdrew  as  quietly  as  he  had  entered. 
After  musing  some  time  on  his  follower's  com- 
munication and  suspicions,  he  resolved  to  un- 
ravel whatever  mystery  might  be  attached  to  the 
matter,  by  visiting  the  invalid  immediately.  On 
his  knocking  gently  at  the  door  for  admission, 
he  was  answered  from  within  by  the  nurse  that 
her  patient  was  asleep,  and  ought  not  now  to  be 
disturbed;  but  being  determined  not  to  allow 
another  day  to  pass  in  uncertainty,  he  went  on 
deck,  and  summoning  Jacques,  told  him  to  go 
down  presently  and  inform  the  nurse  that  in  the 
evening,  as  soon  as  her  patient  was  awake,  he 
should  pay  him  a  visit. 

Jacques  received  this  mandate  with  some  con- 
fusion, and  began  to  stammer  something  abcut 
the  "  poor  boy  not  being  disturbed." 

"  Harkee,  sir,"  said  Ethelston  sternly;  "  I  am 
captain  on  board  this  craft,  and  will  be  obeyed  ; 
as  you  go  into  that  cabin  three  or  four  times  a 
day  to  attend  upon  the  invalid,  methinks  my 


93 


THE    PRAlHiE-BlKO 


presence  cannot  be  so  dangerous.  I  will  take 
the  risk  upon  myself.:  you  hear  my  orders,  sir, 
and  they  are  not  to  be  trifled  with !" 

Jacques  disappeared,  and  Ethelston  remained 
pacing  the  deck.  In  about  half  an  hour  the  lat- 
ter came  up  to  him,  and  said,  "The  young  gen- 
tleman will  receive  the  captain  at  sundown." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Ethelston,  and  continued 
to  pace  the  deck,  revolving  in  his  mind  all  the 
strange  events  of  the  last  month, — his  illness,  the 
unfortunate  passion  of  Nina,  and  her  strange  be- 
haviour when  he  bade  her  farewell. 

At  the  appointed  time  he  went  down,  and 
again  knocked  at  the  side  cabin  door  for  admis- 
sion ;  it  was  opened  by  the  nurse,  apparently  a 
young  woman  of  colour,  who  whispered  to  him 
in  French,  "Go  in,  sir,  and  speak  gently  to  him, 
for  he  is  very  delicate."  So  saying  she  left  the 
cabin,  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Ethelston  approached  the  sofa,  on  which  the 
grey  evening  light  permitted  him  to  see  a  slight 
figure,  covered  with  a  mantle ;  and  addressing 
the  invalid  kindly,  he  said,  "  I  fear,  young  sir, 
you  must  have  suffered  much  during  the  gale." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  was  the  reply,  but  so 
faintly  uttered  as  to  be  scarcely  audible. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  to  make  your  stay  on 
board  more  comfortable  V 

"Yes,"  was  the  whispered  answer. 

"  Then  tell  me  what,  or  how ;  as  I  have  prom- 
ised to  do  all  in  my  power  to  make  the  voyage 
agreeable  to  you." 

After  a  pause  of  a  minute,  during  which  the 
invalid  seemed  struggling  with  repressed  emo- 
tion, the  mantle  was  suddenly  thrown  aside,  the 
recumbent  figure  sprang  from  the  sofa,  and  Nina 
stood  before  him!  "Yes,"  she  said,  "you  have 
promised — and  my  ears  drank  in  the  promise — 
for  it,  and  for  you  I  have  abandoned  home,  coun- 
try, kindred, — what  do  I  say, — I  have  abandoned 
nothing;  for  you  are  to  me  home,  kindred,  coun- 
try, everything !  Dear,  dear  Ethelston  !  this  mo- 
ment repays  me  for  all  I  have  suffered."  As  she 
spoke  thus,  she  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
and  hid  her  blushing  face  upon  his  breast. 

Ethelston  was  so  completely  taken  by  sur- 

firise,  that  for  a  moment  he  could  not  utter  a  syl- 
able.  Mistaking  his  silence  for  a  full  partici- 
pation in  her  own  impassioned  feelings,  and 
looking  up  in  his  face,  her  eyes  beaming  with 
undisguised  affection,  and  her  dark  tresses  fall- 
ing carelessly  over  her  beautiful  neck,  she  con- 
tinued, "  Oh  speak — speak  one  gentle  word, — 
nay,  rather  break  not  this  delicious  silence,  and 
let  me  dream  here  for  ever." 

If  Ethelston  was  for  a  moment  stupified,  partly 
by  surprise  and  partly  by  the  effect  of  her  sur- 
passing loveliness,  it  was  bitt  for  a  moment. 
His  virtue,  pride,  and  honour  were  aroused,  and 
the  suggestions  of  passion  found  no  entrance  to 
his  heart.  Firmly,  but  quietly  replacing  her  on 
the  sofa  she  had  quitted,  he  said,  in  a  voice  more 
stern  than  he  had  ever  before  used  when  ad- 
dressing her,  "Nina,  you  have  grieved  me  more 
than  I  can  express;  you  have  persisted  in  seek- 
ing a  heart  which  I  frankly  told  you  was  not 
mine  to  give;  I  see  no  longer  in  you  the  Nina 
whom  I  first  knew  in  Guadaloupe,  gentle,  affec- 
tionate, and  docile — but  a  wild,  headstrong  girl, 
pursuing  a  wayward  fancy,  regardless  of  truth, 
and  of  that  maidenly  reserve,  which  is  wom- 
an's sweetest  charm.  Not  only  have  you  thus 
hurt  my  feelings,  but  you  have  brought  a  stain 
upon  my  honour, — nay,  interrupt  me  not,"  he 
added,  seeing  that  she  was  about  to  speak  j  "  for 


I  must  tell  you  the  truth,  and  you  must  learn  to 
bear  it,  even  though  it  may  sound  harsh  to  your 
ears.  I  repeat,  you  have  brought  a  stain  upon 
my  honour, — for  what  will  your  respected  father 
think  of  the  man  whom  he  received  wounded,  suf- 
fering, and  a  prisoner"?  whom  he  cherished  with 
hospitable  kindness,  and  who  now  requites  all  his 
benefits  by  stealing  from  his  roof  the  daughter  of 
his  love,  the  ornament  and  blessing  of  his  home  1 
Nina,  I  did  not  think  that  you  would  bring  this 
disgrace  and  Jiumiliation  upon  my  name !  I 
have  now  a  sacred  and  a  painful  duty  before 
me,  and  I  will  see  you  no  more  until  I  have  re- 
stored you  to  the  arms  of  an  offended  father.  1 
hope  he  will  forgive  you,  as  I  do,  for  the  wrong 
that  you  have  done  to  Ijoth  of  us.  Farewell, 
Nina."  With  these  words,  spoken  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  contending  emotions,  he  turned 
and  left  tl)e  cabin. 

Reader,  have  you  ever  dwelt  in  Sicily,  or  in 
any  other  southern  island  of  volcanic  forma- 
tion 1  If  so,  you  may  have  seen  a  verdant  spot 
near  the  base  of  the  mountain,  where  the  flowers 
and  the  herbage  were  smiling  in  the  i'resh  beau- 
ty of  summer,  where  the  luxuriant  vine  mingled 
her  tendrils  with  the  spreading  branches  of  the 
elm,  where  the  air  was  loaded  with  fragrance, 
and  the  ear  was  refreshed  by  the  hum  of  bees 
and  the  mumiur  of  a  rippling  stream, — on  a  sud- 
den, the  slumbering  mountain-furnace  is  aroused 
—  the  sulphurous  crater  pours  forth  its  fiery  del- 
uge, and  in  a  moment  the  spot  so  lately  teeming 
with  life,  fertility,  and  fragrance,  is  become  the 
arid,  barren  abode  of  desolation.  If,  reader,  you 
have  seen  this  fearful  change  on  the  face  of  na- 
ture, or  if  you  can  place  it  vividly  before  your 
imagination,  then  may  you  conceive  the  state 
of  Nina's  mind,  when  her  long-cherished  love 
was  thus  abruptly  and  finally  rejected  by  the 
man  for  whom  she  had  sacrificed  her  h(.me,  hei 
parents,  and  her  pride !  It  is  impossible  for  lan- 
guage to  portray  an  agony  such  as  that  by  which 
all  the  faculties  of  her  soul  and  body  seemed 
absorbed  and  benumbed  ;  she  neither  spc  ke,  noi 
wept,  nor  gave  any  outward  sign  of  suffering, 
but  with  bloodless  and  silent  lips,  sat  gazing  on 
vacancy. 

Fanchette  returned,  and  looked  on  her  young 
mistress  with  fear  and  dread.  She  could  neither 
elicit  a  word  in  reply,  nor  the  slightest  indica- 
tion of  her  repeated  entreaties  being  understood. 
Nina  suffered  her  hands  to  be  chafed,  her  tem- 
ples to  be  bathed,  and  at  length  broke  into  a  loud 
hysteric  laugh,  that  rang  through  the  adjoining 
cabin,  and  sent  a  thrill  to  the  heart  of  Ethelston 
Springing  on  deck,  he  ordered  Jacques  to  go  be- 
low, and  aid  Fanchette  in  attending  on  hei 
young  lad}',  and  then,  with  folded  arms,  he  lean- 
ed over  the  low  bulwark,  and  sal  meditating  in 
deep  silence  on  the  events  of  the  day. 

The  moon  had  risen,  and  her  beams  silvered 
the  waves  through  which  the  schooner  was  cut- 
ting her  way;  scarcely  a  fleeting  cloud  obscured 
the  brightness  of  the  sky,  and  all  nature  seemed 
hushed  in  the  calm  and  peaceful  repose  of  night. 
How  different  from  the  fearful  storm  now  raging 
in  the  bosom  of  the  young  girl  from  whcm  he 
was  divided  only  by  a  few  inches  of  plank  !  He 
shuddered  when  that  thought  arose,  but  his  con- 
science told  him  that  he  was  acting  aright,  and 
indulging  in  the  reverie  that  possessed  him,  he 
saw  a  distant  figure  in  the  glimmering  moonlight 
which,  as  it  drew  near,  grew  more  and  jjiore  dis 
tinct,  till  it  wore  the  form,  the  features,  and  the 
approving  smile  of  his  Lucy !    Confirmed  and 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


5) 


strengthened  in  his  resolutions,  he  started  from 
his  seat,  and  bade  the  astonished  Cupid,  who 
was  now  at  the  helm,  to  prepare  to  go  about, 
and  stand  to  the  eastward ;  Jacques  was  called 
from  below,  the  order  was  repeated  in  a  sterner 
voice,  the  sails  were  trimmed,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  schooner  was  close  hauled  and  laying 
her  course,  as  near  as  the  wind  would  permit, 
for  Guadaloupe. 

While  these  events  were  passing  on  board  the 
Seagull,  Captain  L'Estrange  had  returned  in  the 
frigate  to  Point  a  Pitre.  His  grief  and  anger 
may  be  better  imagined  than  described  when  he 
learned  the  flight  of  his  daughter  and  of  his  pris- 
oner, together  with  the  loss  of  his  yacht  and  two 
of  his  slaves. 

Concluding  that  the  fugitives  would  make  for 
New  Orleans,  he  dispatched  the  Hirondelle  im- 
mediately in  pursuit,  with  orders  to  discover 
them  if  possible,  and  to  bring  them  back  by 
stratagem  or  force.  He  also  wrote  to  Colonel 
Brandon,  painting  in  the  blackest  colours  the 
treachery  and  ingratitude  of  Ethelston,  and  call- 
ing upon  him,  as  a  man  of  honour,  to  disown 
and  punish  the  perpetrator  of  such  an  outrage  on 
the  laws  of  hospitality. 

Mean  while  the  latter  was  straining  every  nerve 
to  reach  again  the  island  from  which  he  had  so 
lately  escaped.  In  this  object  he  was  hindered, 
not  only  by  balHing  winds,  but  by  the  obstinacy 
of  Jacques,  who,  justly  fearing  the  wrath  of  his 
late  master,  practised  every  mancjuvre  to  frus- 
trate Ethelston's  design.  But  the  latter  was  on 
his  guard;  and  unless  he  was  himself  on  deck, 
never  trusted  the  helm  in  the  coxswain's  hands. 

He  learned  from  Fanchette,  that  Nina  was  in 
a  high  fever  and  quite  delirious;  but  though  he 
tiquired  constantly  after  her,  and  ordered  every 
attention  to  be  paid  to  her  that  was  within  his 
sower,  he  adhered  firmly  to  the  resolution  that 
le  had  formed  of  never  entering  her  cabin. 

Afier  a  few  days'  sailing  to  the  eastward,  when 
Ethelston  calculated  that  he  should  not  now  be 
■U  a  great  distance  from  Guadaloupe,  he  fell  in 
with  a  vessel,  which  proved  to  be  the  Hirondelle. 
The  Seagull  was  immediately  recognised ;  and 
the  weather  being  fair,  the  lieutenant  and  eight 
men  came  on  board.  The  French  officer  was 
10  sooner  on  the  deck,  than  he  ordered  his  men 
o  6eize  and  secure  Ethelston,  and  to  place  the 
wo  blacks  in  irons. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Ethelston  indignantly  re- 
monstrated against  such  harsh  and  undeserved 
treatment.  The  officer  would  listen  to  no  expla- 
lation;  and  without  deigning  a  reply,  ordered 
"lis  men  to  carry  their  prisoners  on  board  the 
Hirondelle. 

On  reaching  Point  a  Pitre,  they  were  all  placed 
m  separate  placesof  confinement ;  and  Nina  was, 
«ot  without  much  risk  and  difficulty,  conveyed 
o  her  former  apartment  in  her  father's  house. 
The  delirium  of  fever  seemed  to  have  perma- 
nently affected  the  poor  girl's  brain.  She  sang 
wild  snatches  of  songs,  and  told  those  about  her 
:hat  her  lover  was  often  with  her,  but  that  he  was 
.nvisible.  .Sometimes  she  fancied  herself  on 
ooard  a  ship,  and  asked  them  which  way  the 
wind  b.ew,  and  whether  they  were  near  the 
shore.  Then  she  would  ask  for  a  guitar,  and 
tell  them  that  she  was  a  mermaid,  and  would 
Ring  them  songs  that  the  fishes  loved  to  hear. 

The  distracted  father  often  sat  and  listened  to 
these  incoherent  ravings,  until  he  left  the  room 
in  an  agony  not  to  be  described ;  and  when  alone, 
vented  the  most  fearful  imprecations  on  the  sup- 


posea  treachery  and  ingratitude  of  Ethelston. 
He  could  not  bring  himself  to  see  the  latter;  for, 
said  he,  "I  must  kill  him,  if  I  set  eyes  on  his 
hateful  person :"  but  he  one  day  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  which  he  desired  to  be  delivered  to 
his  prisoner : 

''A  FATHER,  whose  indignation  is  yet  greater 
than  his  agony,  desires  to  know  what  plea  you 
can  urge  in  extenuation  of  the  odious  crimes 
laid  to  your  charge: — the  deliberate  theft  of  his 
slaves  and  yacht,  and  the  abduction  and  ruin  of 
his  child,  in  recompense  for  misplaced  trusv 
kindness,  and  hospitality  1" 

Poor  Ethelston,  in  the  gloomy  solitude  of  the 
narrow  chamber  where  he  was  confined,  read 
and  re-read  the  above  lines  many  times  before 
he  would  trust  himself  to  reply  to  them.  He  felt 
for  the  misery  of  L'Estrange,  and  he  was  too 
proud  and  too  generous  to  exculpate  himself  by 
the  narration  of  Nina's  conduct;  nay,  although 
he  knew  that  by  desiring  L'Estrange  to  exam- 
ine separately  Fanchette  and  Jacques,  his  own 
innocence,  and  the  deceit  practised  upon  him, 
would  be  brought  to  light,  he  could  net  bring 
himself  to  forget  that  delicacy  which  Nina  had 
herself  forgotten ;  nor  add,  to  clear  himself,  one 
mite  to  the  heavy  weight  of  visitation  that  had 
already  fallen  upon  her.  He  contented  himself 
with  sending  the  following  answer: 

"Sir, 
"Your  words,  though  harsh,  would  be  more 
than  merited  by  the  crimes  of  which  you  believe 
me  guilty.  Thei"e  is  a  Being  above,  who  reads 
the  heart,  and  will  judge  the  conduct  of  us  all. 
If  I  am  guilty  of  the  crimes  imputed  to  me,  His 
vengeance  will  inflict  on  me,  through  the  stings 
of  conscience,  punishment  more  terrible  even 
than  the  wrath  of  a  justly-offended  father  could 
desire  for  the  destroyer  of  his  child.  If  I  am  not 
guilty.  He,  in  His  own  good  time,  will  make  it 
known,  and  will  add  to  your  other  heavy  sor- 
rows, regret  for  having  unjustly  charged  with 
such  base  ingratitude, 

"Your  servant  and  prisoner, 

"E.  Ethelston." 

On  receiving  the  above  letter,  which  seemed 
dictated  by  a  calm  consciousness  of  rectitude, 
L'Estrange's  belief  of  his  prisoner's  guilt  was  for 
a  moment  staggered;  and  had  he  bethought  him- 
self of  cross-examining  the  other  partners  in  the 
escape,  he  would  doubtless  have  arrived  at  tht 
truth;  but  his  feelings  were  too  violently  excited 
to  permit  the  exercise  of  his  reason;  and  tearing 
the  note  to  pieces,  he  stamped  upon  it,  exclaim- 
ing, in  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  "  Dissembling  hypo- 
crite! does  he  think  to  cozen  me  with  words,  as 
he  has  poisoned  poor  Nina's  peace  1" 

Her  disorder  now  assumed  a  diflferent  charac- 
ter. The  excitement  of  delirium  ceased,  and  was 
succeeded  by  a  feebleness  and  gradual  wasting, 
which  baflled  all  the  resources  of  medicine;  and 
such  was  the  apathy  and  stupor  that  clouded 
her  faculties,  that  even  her  father  could  scarcely 
tell  whether  she  knew  him  or  not.  In  this  state 
she  continued  for  several  days;  and  the  physi- 
cian at  length  informed  L'Estrange  that  he  must 
prepare  himself  for  the  worst,  and  that  all  hope 
of  recovery  was  gone. 

Madame  L'Estrange  had,  under  the  pressure 
of  anxiety,  forgotten  her  habitual  listlessness, 
and  watched  by  her  daughter's  couch  with  a 
mother's  unwearied  solicitude;  on  the  night  suc- 
ceeding the  above  sad  announcement,  Nina  sunk 
into  a  quiet  sleep,  which  gave  some  hcpe  to  her 


54 


THE    PRAIRIE- BIRD. 


sanguine  parents,  and  induced  them  also  to  per- 
mit themselves  a  lew  hours'  repose. 

In  the  mornmg  she  awoke;  her  eye  no  longer 
dwelt  on  vacancy;  a  slight  Hush  was  visible  on 
her  tiansparent  cheek,  and  she  called  her  lather, 
in  a  voice  fceble,  indeed,  but  clear  and  distinct. 
Who  shall  jiaint  the  rapture  with  which  he  hailed 
•lie  returning  dawn  of  reason  and  of  hope  1  But 
his  joy  was  of  brief  durai  'n  ;  for  Nina,  beck- 
oning him  to  approach  ye.  ■  'or,  said,  "God 
be  thlinked  that  1  may  yet  beg  yi'  ir  blessing  and 
forgiveness,  dearest  father !"  Then,  pressing 
her  wasted  hand  upon  her  brow,  she  continued, 
after  a  short  pause,  "  Yes,  I  remember  it  all 
now — all;  the  orange-grove — the  flight — the  ship 
—the  last  meeting  !  Oh!  tell  me,  where  is  he  1 
where  is  Ethelston'!" 

"  He  is  safe  confined,"  answered  L'Estrange, 
scarcely  repressing  his  rage ;  "  ne  shall  not 
escape  punishment.  The  villain  shall  yet  know 
the  weight  of  an  injured  father's — "  Ere  he 
could  conclude  the  sentence,  Nina,  by  a  sudden 
exertion,  half  rose  in  her  bed,  and,  grasping  his 
arm  convulsively,  said,  "  Father,  curse  him  not 
— you  know  not  what  you  say ;  it  is  on  me,  on 
me  alone,  that  all  your  anger  should  fall ;  listen, 
and  speak  not,  for  my  hours  are  numbered,  and 
my  strength  nearly  spent."  She  then  proceeded 
to  tell  him,  in  a  faint  but  distinct  voice,  all  the 
particulars  already  known  to  the  reader,  keep- 
ing back  nothing  in  her  own  defence,  and  con- 
fessing how  Ethelston  had  been  deceived,  and 
how  she  had  madly  persisted  in  her  endeavours 
to  win  his  love,  after  he  had  explicitly  owned  to 
her  that  his  heart  and  hand  were  promised  to 
another. 

"  1  solemnly  assure  you,"  she  said,  in  conclu- 
sion, "  that  he  never  spoke  to  me  of  love,  that  he 
warned  me  as  a  brother,  and  reproved  me  as  a 
father ;  but  I  would  not  be  counselled.  His  im- 
age filled  my  thoughts,  my  senses,  my  whole 
soul — it  fills  them  yet;  and  if  you  wish  your 
poor  Nina  to  die  in  peace,  let  her  see  you  em- 
larace  him  as  a  friend  and  son."  So  saying  she 
sank  exhausted  on  her  pillow. 

L'Estrange  could  scarcely  master  the  agita- 
tion excited  by  this  narration.  After  a  short 
pause  he  replied,  "  My  poor  child !  I  fear  you 
dream  again.  I  wrote  only  a  few  days  ago  to 
Eihelston,  charging  him  with  his  villany,  and 
asking  what  he  could  say  in  his  defence  1  His 
reply  was  nothing  but  a  canting  subterfuge." 

"  What  was  if!"  inquired  Nina,  faintly. 

L'Estrange  repeated  the  words  of  the  note.  As 
he  did  so,  a  sweet  smile  stole  over  her  counte- 
nance, and,  clasping  her  hands  together,  she  ex- 
claimed, "Like  himself — noble,  generous  Ethel- 
ston! Father,  you  are  blind;  he  would  not 
exculpate  himself,  by  proclaiming  your  daugh- 
ter's shame !  If  you  doubt  me,  question  Fan- 
chette — Jacques — who  know  it  all  too  well ;  but 
you  will  not  doubt  me,  dear,  dear  father!  By 
that  Being  to  whose  presence  I  am  fast  hasten- 
ing, 1  tell  you  only  the  truth;  by  His  name  I 
conjure  you  to  comfort  my  last  moments,  by 
granting  my  last  request !" 

L'Estrange  averted  his  face,  and  rising  almost 
immediately,  desired  an  attendant  to  summon 
Ethelston  without  delay. 

A  )ong  pause  ensued;  Nina's  lips  moved  as 
if  in  sjipnt  prayer;  and  her  father,  covering  his 
tace  with  his  hands,  struggled  to  control  the  an- 
truish  by  which  his  firmness  was  all  but  over- 
powered. At  length  Ethelston  entered  the  room ; 
he  had  been  informed  that  Nina  was  very  ill,  but 


was  by  no  means  aware  of  the  extremity  ol  her 
danger.  Naturally  indignant  at  the  treatment 
he  had  lately  received,  knowing  it  to  be  unde- 
served, and  ignorant  of  the  purpose  for  which  he 
was  now  called,  his  manner  was  cold  and  some- 
what haughty,  as  he  inquired  the  commands 
which  Captain  L'Estrange  might  have  for  his 
prisoner. 

The  agonized  father  sought  in  vain  for  utter- 
ance; his  only  reply  was  to  point  to  the  almoit 
lifeless  form  of  his  child. 

One  glance  from  the  bed  to  the  countenance 
of  L'Estrange  was  sufficient  to  explain  all  to 
Ethelston,  who  sprang  forward,  and,  wringirg 
the  old  captain's  hand,  faltered,  in  a  voice  cf 
deep  emotion,  "  Oh  !  forgive  me  for  so  speaking; 
I  knew  nothing — nothing  of  this  dreadful  scene  I" 
Then,  turning  from  him,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
Nina,  while  the  convulsive  working  oi'  his  fea- 
tures showed  that  his  habitual  .self-command 
was  scarcely  equal  to  support  the  present  unex- 
pected trial. 

The  deadly  paleness  of  her  brow  contrasted 
with  the  disordered  tresses  of  her  dark  hair — th_ 
long  eyelashes,  reposing  upon  the  transparent 
cheek,  which  wore  a  momentar)'  hectic  glow — 
the  colourless  lip,  and  the  thin,  wan  fingers, 
crossed  meekly  upon  her  breast — all  gave  to  her 
form  and  features  an  air  of  such  unearthly  beauty 
that  Ethelston  almost  doubled  whether  the  spiri' 
still  lingered  in  its  lovely  mansion ;  but  his 
doubts  were  soon  resolved,  for,  having  finished 
che  unuttered  but  fervent  prayer  which  she  had 
been  addressing  to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  she 
again  unclosed  her  eyes,  and  when  they  rested 
upon  his  countenance,  a  sweet  smile  ■olayed 
round  her  lip,  and  a  warmer  flush  came  ever  he; 
cheek.  Extending  her  hand  to  him,  she  said, 
"Can  you  forgive  me  for  all  the  wrong  i  havt 
done  you  ?" 

In  reply,  he  pressed  her  fingers  to  his  lips,  u-f 
he  could  not  speak.  She  continued:  "  I  kno"* 
that  1  grievously  wronged  my  parents;  but  the 
wrong  which  I  did  to  you  was  yet  more  cruel. 
God  be  thanked  for  giving  me  this  brief  but  pre- 
cious hour  for  atonement.  You  more  than  once 
called  me  your  sister  and  your  friend !  be  a 
brother  to  me  now.  And  you,  dearest  father,  if 
your  love  outweighs  my  fault, — if  you  wish  youi 
child  to  die  happy,  embrace  him_for  my  sake, 
and  repair  the  injustice  that  you  have  done  to 
his  generous  nature!" 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other;  their 
hearts  were  melted,  and  their  cordial  embrace 
brought  a  ray  of  gladness  to  Nina's  eyes.  "  God 
be  thanked!"  she  murmured  faintly.  "Let  my 
mother  now  come,  that  I  may  receive  her  bless- 
ing too." 

While  L'Estrange  went  to  summon  his  wife 
to  a  scene  which  the  weakness  of  her  mind  and 
nerves  rendered  her  unequal  to  support,  Nina 
continued:  "Dear,  dear  Ethelston,  let  me  hear 
your  voice;  the  madness,  the  passion,  the  jeal- 
ousy, that  filled  my  bosom  are  all  past,  but  the 
love  is  there,  imperishable;  tell  me,  my  friend, 
counsellor,  brother,  that  you  are  not. angry  with 
me  for  saying  so  now." 

Again  the  wasted  fingers  were  pressed  to  his 
burning  lip;  his  tongue  could  not  yet  find  utter- 
ance, but  a  tear  which  fell  upon  them  told  to  the 
snflerer  that  there  was  no  indifference  in  that 
silence. 

Captain  L'Estrange  now  entered,  accompa- 
nied by  his  wife.  Although  a  weak  and  fool- 
ish woman,  her  heart  was  not  dead  to  those  nat- 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


65 


nral  affections  of  a  mother  which  the  present 
scene  might  be  expected  to  call  forth;  she  wept 
Jong  and  violently  over  her  dying  child,  and 
perhaps  her  grief  might  be  embittered  by  a 
whisper  of  conscience  that  her  sufierings  were 
more  or  less  altribiua'ble  to  neglected  education. 
Fearing  that  her  mother's  excessive  agitation 
might  exhaust  Nina's  scanty  store  of  remain- 
ing strength,  Ethelston  suggested  to  Captain 
L'Estrange  to  withdraw  her  into  the  adjoining 
apartment;  and,  approaching  the  sufferer,  he 
whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear.  A  sweet 
smile  played  upon  her  countenance  as  she  an- 
swered, ♦'  Yes,  and  without  delay." 

Following  her  retiring  parents  from  the  room, 
he  motioned  to  the  priest,  who  was  waiting  at 
the  door,  to  enter;  and  the  sad  party  remained 
together  while  the  confessor  performed  the  rites 
of  his  sacred  office.  Madame  L'Estrange  was 
so  overpowered  bv  her  grief,  that  she  was  re- 
moved, almost  insensible,  to  her  own  apartment, 
while,  upon  a  signal  from  the  holy  man,  Ethel- 
ston and  the  father  re-entered  that  of  Nina. 

Addressing  the  latter,  she  said  in  a  faint  voice, 
"  Dearest  father,  I  have  made  my  peace  with 
Heaven ;  let  me  add  one  more  prayer  to  you  for 
peace  and  forgiveness  on  earth." 

"  Speak  it,  my  child ;  it  is  already  granted," 
said  the  softened  veteran. 

"  Pardon,  fur  my  sake,  Fanchette  and  Jacques : 
they  have  committed  a  great  offence;  but  it  was 
I  who  urged  them  to  it." 

"It  is  forgiven:  and  they  shall  not  be  punish- 
ed," replied  L'Estrange:  while  Ethelston,  deep- 
ly touched  by  this  amiable  remembrance  of  the 
offending  slaves  at  such  a  moment,  whispered 
to  her  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers;  for  they  shall 
be  called  the  children  of  God  !" 

A  grateful  pressure  of  the  hand  which  he  had 
placed  in  hers,  was  the  only  reply,  as  she  con- 
tinued, addressing  L'Estrange,  "And  let  them 
marry,  father,  I  know  they  love  each  other ;  and 
those  who  love  should  marry."  Here  her  voice 
became  feebler  and  feebler,  as,  once  more  open- 
ing her  dark  eyes,  which  shone  with  preternat- 
ural lustre  upon  Ethelston,  she  added,  "You, 
too,  will  marry;  but  none  will  ever  love  you 
like  your  .  .  .  sister  ! — closer — closer  yet !  let  me 
ieel  your  breath.  Father,  join  your  hand  to  his 
—so  !     This  death  is  -  -  Par " 

The  closing  word  died  upon  her  lips;  but  the 
angelic  smile  that  lingered  there  seemed  to  em- 
anate from  that  Paradise  which  their  last  mo- 
ments strove  in  vain  to  name.  Her  earthly  sor- 
rows were  at  rest,  and  the  bereaved  father  fell 
exhausted  into  Ethelston's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

ExcursioQ  on  the  Prairie. — The  Party  fall  in  with  a  vet- 
eran Hunter.  m 

We  must  now  return  to  Reginald  and  his' 
trusty  foliuwer,  Baptiste,  whom  we  left  at  St. 
Louis,  where  they  were  busily  employed  in  dis- 
posing of  Colonel  Brandon's  share  of  the  pel- 
tries brought  in  by  the  trapping  party,  which  he 
had  partly  furnished  the  preceding  year.  They 
did  not  find  much  difficulty  in  effecting  an  ad- 
vantageous sale  to  two  of  the  other  partners  in 
the  expedition. — active,  enterprising  men,  who, 
from  their  connection  with  the  Mackinaw  Fur 
Company,  were  sure  of  reselliniS  at  considera- 
ble profit. 


As  soon  as  these  affairs  were  settled,  Regi- 
nald, who  had  been  joined  by  Perrot,  Bearskin, 
and  the  remaining  crew  of  the  canoe,  resolved 
to  defer  no  longer  his  proposed  journey  into  the 
Osage  country.  He  left  all  the  arrangements 
to  Baptiste  and  Bearskin,  under  whose  superin- 
tendence the  preparations  advanced  so  rapidly, 
that  at  the  end  of  a  week  they  were  satisfactori- 
ly completed. 

It  had  been  determined  to  leave  the  canoe  at 
St.  Louis,  and  to  perform  the  journey  by  land; 
for  this  purpose  a  strong  saddle-horse  was  pur- 
chased for  each  of  the  party,  together  with  six 
pack-horses,  and  as  ma'iy  mules,  lor  the  trans- 
fer of  the  ammunition,  baggage,  and  presents 
for  their  Indian  allies.  Four  additional  Cana- 
dian "  coureurs  des  Bois"  wore  engaged  to  take 
charge  of  the  packs ;  so  that  when  they  started 
for  the  Western  Prairies,  the  party  mustered 
twelve  in  number,  whose  rank  and  designation 
were  as  follows : — 

Reginald  Brandon;  Baptiste,  his  lieutenant, 
Bearskin,  who,  in  the  absence  of  the  two  former, 
was  to  take  the  command;  M.  Perrot,  Mike 
Smith,  with,  three  other  border  hunters,  and  the 
four  Canadians,  completed  the  party. 

Baptiste  had  taken  care  to  place  among  the 
packages  an  abundance  of  mirrors,  cutlery,  and 
other  articles  most  highly  prized  by  the  savages. 
He  had  also  selected  the  horses  with  the  great- 
est care,  and  two  spare  ones  wt:e  tak»n,  in  case 
of  accidents  by  the  wa\'.  When  all  was  ready, 
even  the  taciturn  Bearskin  admitted  that  he  had 
never  seen  a  party  so  well  fitted  out,  in  every 
respect,  for  an  Indian  expedition.  ■ 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  when  they  left  St. 
Louis,  and  entered  upon  the  broad  track  which 
led  through  the  deep  Missourian  forest,  with  oc- 
casional openings  of  prairie,  towards  a  trading 
post  lately  opened  on  the  Osage,  a  river  which 
runs  from  S.W.  to  N.E.  and  falls  into  the  Mis- 
souri. Of  all  the  party,  none  were  in  such  exu- 
berant spirits  as  Perrot,  who,  mounted  on  ac 
active,  spirited  little  Mestang  horse,*  capering 
beside  the  bulky  figure  of  Mike  Smith,  address- 
ed to  him  various  pleasantries  in  broken  Eng- 
lish, which  the  other,  if  he  understood  them,  did 
not  deign  to  notice. 

It  was  now  near  the  close  of  May,  and  both 
the  prairie  and  the  woodland  scenery  were  clad 
in  the  beautiful  and  varied  colours  of  early  sum- 
mer; the  grassy  road  along  which  they  wound 
their  easy  way  was  soft  and  elastic  to  the  horses' 
hoofs ;  and  as  they  travelled  farther  from  the  set- 
tlements scattered  near  St.  Louis,  the  frequent 
tracks  of  deer  which  they  observed,  tempted 
Reginald  to  halt  his  party,  and  encamp  for  the 
night,  while  he  and  Baptiste  sallied  forth  to 
provide  for  them  a  venison  supper. 

After  a  short  hunting  ramble  they  returned, 
bearing  with  them  the  saddle  of  a  fine  buck.  A 
huge  fire  was  lighted  ;  the  camp-kettles,  and 
other  cooking  utensils  were  in  immediate  re- 
quest, and  the  travellers  sat  down  to  enjoy  their 
first  supper  in  the  Missourian  wilderness. 

Monsieur  Perrot  was  nov/  quite  in  his  ele- 
ment, and  became  at  once  a  universal  favourite, 
for  never  had  any  of  the  party  tasted  coffee  or 
flour-cakes  so  good,  or  venison  steaks  of  so  deli- 
cate a  flavour.  His  good  humour  was  as  iLex- 
haustible  as  his  inventive  culinary  talent;  and 
they  were   almost  disposed   to  believe   in    his 


*  Mestan:?-,  a  horse  bred  between  the  wild  and  the  tarns 
breeiis  ;  they  are  sometimes  to  be  met  with  among  the  tri 
ders  to  Santa  F|i. 


66 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRU. 


coasting  assurance,  that  so  long  as  there  was  a 
buffalo-hide,  or  an  old  moccasin  left  among 
them,  they  should  never  want  a  good  meal. 

Having  supped  and  smoked  a  comfortable 
pipe,  they  proceeded  to  bivouac  for  the  night. 
By  the  advice  of  Baptiste,  Reginald  had  deter- 
mined to  accv^tom  his  party,  from  the  first,  to 
those  p.-ecautionary  habits  which  might  soon 
become  so  ess-mtial  to  their  safety;  a  regular 
rotation  of  sentry  duty  was  established,  the  hor- 
ses were  carefully  secured,  and  every  man  lay 
down  with  his  Icnife  in  his  belt,  and  his  loaded 
rifle  at  his  side;  the  packs  were  all  carefully 
piled,  SD  as  to  form  a  low  breastwork,  from  be- 
hind which  they  might  fire,  in  case  of  sudden  at- 
tack; and  when  these  dispositions  were  comple- 
ted, those  who  were  not  on  the  watch  wrapped 
themselves  in  theirblanketsor  buffalo-skins,  and 
with  their  feet  towards  the  fire,  slept  as  comfort- 
ably as  on  a  bed  of  down. 

For  two  days  they  continued  their  march  in  a 
northwest  direction,  meeting  with  no  incident 
worthy  of  record  ;  the  hunters  found  abundance 
of  game  of  every  description,  and  Monsieur  Per- 
rot's  skill  was  daily  exercised  upon  prairie-hens, 
turkeys,  and  deer.  On  the  tliird  day,  as  they 
were  winding  their  way  leisurely  down  a  wood- 
ed valley,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard 
at  no  great  distance.  Reginald,  desiring  to  as- 
certain whether  Indians  or  white  men  M'ere 
hunting  in  the  neighbourhood,  halted  his  party, 
and  went  forward,  accompanied  by  Baptiste,  to 
endeavour,  nnperceived,  to  approach  the  person 
whose  shot  they  had  heard.  A  smooth,  grassy 
glade  facilitated  their  project,  and  a  slight  col- 
umn of  smoke  curling  up  from  an  adjoining 
thicket,  served  to  guide  them  towards  the  spot. 
Ere  they  had  advanced  far,  the  parting  of  the 
brushwood  showed  them  that  the  object  of  their 
search  was  approaching  the  place  where  they 
stood,  and  they  had  barely  time  to  conceal  them- 
selves in  a  bush  of  sumach,  when  the  unknown 
hunter  emerged  from  the  thicket,  dragging  alter 
him  a  fine  deer.  He  was  a  powerful  man  of 
middling  height,  not  very  unlike  Baptiste  in  dress 
and  appearance,  but  even  more  embrowned  and 
weather-beaten  than  the  trusty  guide;  he  seemed 
to  be  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  the  hair  on  his 
temples  was  scant  and  grey;  his  countenance 
was  strikingly  expressive  of  boldness  and  reso- 
lution, and  his  eye  seemed  as  clear  and  bright 
as  that  of  a  man  in  the  early  prime  of  life. 
Leaning  his  rifle  against  an  adjoining  tree,  he 
proceeded  to  handle  and  feel  his  quarry,  to  as- 
certain the  proportions  of  fat  and  meat ;  the  ex- 
amination seemed  not  unsatisfactory,  for  when 
it  was  concluded  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow,  and  with  a  complacent  smile  muttered 
half  aloud,  "Ah,  'taint  every  day  as  a  man  can 
find  a  saddle  like  that  in  old  Kentuck  now — 
what  with  their  dogs,  and  girdlins,  and  clearins, 
and  hog-feedings,  and  the  other  devilments  of 
the  settlements,  the  deer's  all  driven  out  of  the 
country,  or  if  it  aint  driven  out,  they  run  all  the 
fat  off,  so  that  it's  only  fit  to  feed  one  of  your 
iradin'  townbred  fellows,  who  wouldn't  know  a 
prime  buck  from  a  Lancaster  sheep !" 

After  this  brief  soliloquy,  the  veteran  sports- 
man tucked  up  the  sleeve  of  his  hunting-shirt, 
and  proceeded  to  skin  and  cut  up  his  quarry,  with 
a  skill  and  despatch  that  showed  him  to  he  a 
perfect  master  of  his  craft.  Reginald  and  Bap- 
tiste had  remained  silent  observers  of  his  pro- 
ceedings, but  the  former  inferred  from  the  pleas- 
ed twinkle  of  the  Guide's  grey  eyes,  and  the 


comic  working  of  the  muscles  of  his  mouth,  that 
the  .solitary  hunter  was  no  stranger  to  him ; 
touching  Baptiste  lightly,  he  whispered,  "I  see 
that  we  have  come  across  an  acquaintance  of 
yours  in  this  remote  place." 

"  That  we  have.  Master  Reginald,"  said  the 
Guide ;    "  and  you'd  have  known  him  too,  if 
you'd  spent  some  of  the  years  in  Kentuck,  as. 
you  passed  at  those  colleges  in  the  old  country;  _. 
but  we'll  just  step  out  and  hail  him,  for  thcugh  , 
he  aint  particular  fond  of  company,  he's  not  the 
man  to  turn  his  back  on  a  friend  to  whom  he 
has  once  given  his  hand." 

So  saying,  he  rose  from  his  hiding  place,  and 
coming  out  on  the  open  glade,  before  Reginald 
could  inquire  the  stranger's  name,  the  Guide 
said  aloud,  "A  prime  buck.  Colonel,  1  see  your 
hand's  as  steady  as  ever !" 

At  the  first  sound  of  a  voice  addressing  him  in 
his  own  language,  a  shade  of  displeasure  came 
across  the  hunter's  countenance,  but  as  be  recog- 
nised the  speaker,  it  disappeared  instantly,  and 
he  replied,  "  Ha  !  Baptiste,  my  old  friend,  is  that 
youl     What  chase  are  you  on  here"?" 

So  saying,  he  grasped  the  horny  hand  of  the 
Guide,  with  a  heartiness  which  proved  that  the 
latter  was  really  welcome. 

"  Why,  Colonel,  I'm  out  on  a  kind  o'  mixed 
hunt  this  turn,  with  this  young  gentleman,  whose 
father.  Colonel  Brandon,  you've  known  many  a 
day.  Master  Reginald,  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad 
to  be  acquainted  with  Colonel  Boone,  howbeit 
you  little  expected  to  find  him  in  this  part  of  the 
airth." 

At  the  mention  of  the  stranger's  name,  Regi- 
nald's hand  was  raised  unconsciously  to  his  cap, 
which  he  doffed  respectfully  as  he  said,  "  I  am 
indeed  glad  to  meet  the  celebrated  Daniel  Boone, 
whose  name  is  as  familiar  to  every  western 
hunter  as  that  of  Washington  or  Franklin  in  oil" 
cities." 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  Colonel,  laugh- 
ing gobd-humouredly,  "I  am  heartily  glad  to  see 
your  father's  son,  but  you  must  not  bring  the 
ways  of  the  city  into  the  woods,  by  flattering  a 
rough  old  bear-hunter  with  fine  words." 

"  Nay,"  said  Reginald,  "  there  is  no  flattery, 
for  Baptiste  here  has  spoken  of  you  to  me  a 
hundred  times,  and  has  told  me,  as  often,  that  a 
better  hunter,  or  a  better  man  does  not  breathe. 
You  seem  to  have  known  him  some  time,  and 
must,  therefore,  be  able  to  judge  whether  he  is 
of  a  flattering  sort  or  not." 

"  Why,  it  wasn't  much  his  trade,  I  allow," 
replied  the  Colonel,  "  in  old  times  when  he  and 
I  hunted  bear  for  three  weeks  together  in  the  big 
laurel  thicket  at  Kentucky  Forks.  I  believe, 
Baptiste,  that  axe  at  your  belt  is  the  very  one 
with  which  you  killed  the  old  she,  who  wasn't 
pleased  because  we  shot  down  two  of  her  cubs; 
she  hadn't  manners  enough  to  give  us  time  to 
load  again,  and  when  you  split  her  skull  hand- 
somely, she  was  playing  a  mighty  unpleasant 
game  with  the  stock  of  my  rifle.  Ah,  that  was 
a  reasonable  quiet  country  in  those  days,"  con- 
tinued the  Colonel;  "we "had  no  trouble,  but  a 
lively  bit  of  a  skrimmage,  now  and  then,  with 
the  Indian.?,  until  the  Browns,  and  Frasers,  and 
Micklehams,  and  heaven  knows  how  many  more 
came  to  settle  in  it,  and  what  with  their  infernal 
ploughs,  and  fences,  and  mills,  tn^o  .  xintin'  was 
clean  spoilt ;  I  stayed  as  long  as  I  could,  for  I'd  a 
kind  o'  likin'  to  it ;  but  at  last  I  couldn't  go  ten 
mile  any  way  without  comin'  to  some  clearin'or 
log-hut,  so  says  I  to  myself, '  Colonel,  the  sooner 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


57 


you  clear  out  o'  this,  the  better  you'll  be  pleas- 
ed.' " 

"  Well,  Colonel,"  said  the  Guide,  "  I  heard 
you  had  moved  away  from  the  Forks,  and  had 
gone  further  down  west,  but  they  never  told  me 
you  had  crossed  the  big  river." 

"  I  only  came  hert  last  fall,"  replied  the  Colo- 
nel •  "  fur  I  found  in  Kentucky  that  as  fast  as  I 
mo/ed,  the  settlers  and  squatters  followed  ;  so  I 
thought  I'd  dodge  'em  once  for  all,  and  make  for 
a  country  where  the  deer  and  I  could  live  com- 
fortably together." 

"  As  we  have  thus  accidentally  fallen  in  with 
you,"  said  Reginald,  "  I  hope  you  will  take  a 
hunter's  meal  with  us  before  we  part ;  our  men  and 
baggage  are  not  a  mile  from  this  spot,  and  Colonel 
Boone's  company  will  be  a  pleasure  to  us  all." 

The  invitation  was  accepted  as  frankly  as  it 
was  given. 

Baptiste  shouldered  the  Colonel's  venison,  and 
in  a  short  time  the  three  rejoined  Reginald's  par- 
ty. Daniel  Boone's  name  alone  was  sufficient 
in  the  West  to  ensure  him  a  hearty  welcome. 
Perrot's  talents  were  put  into  immediate  requi- 
sition, and  ere  long  the  game  and  poultry  of  the 
prairie  were  roasting  before  a  capital  fire,  while 
the  indefatigable  Frenchman  prepared  the  addi- 
tional and  unusual  luxuries  of  hot  maize  cakes 
and  cofiee. 

During  the  repast,  Reginald  learned  from  Col- 
onel Boone  that  various  parties  of  Indians  had 
been  lately  hunting  in  the  neighbourhood.  He 
described  most  of  them  as  friendly,  and  willing 
to  trade  in  meat  or  skins  for  powder  and  lead  : 
he  believed  them  to  belong  to  the  Konsas,  a  tribe 
cnce  powerful,  and  resident  on  the  river  called 
by  that  name  falling  into  the  Missouri,  about  a 
hundred  miles  to  the  N.W.  of  the  place  where 
ojr  party  were  now  seated;  but  the  tribe  had 
been  of  late  reduced  by  the  ravages  of  the  small- 
pox, and  by  the  incursions  of  the  Pawnees — a 
nation  more  numerous  and  warlike,  whose  vil- 
lages were  situated  a  hundred  miles  higher  up 
the  same  river.* 

The  Colonel  described  the  neighbourhood  as 
abounding  in  elk,  deer,  bear,  and  turkeys;  but 
he  said  that  the  beaver  and  buffalo  were  already 
scarce,  the  great  demand  for  their  skins  having 
caused  them  to  be  hunted  quite  out  of  the  regi«n 
bordering  on  the  settlements.  After  .spending 
a  couple  of  hours  agreeably  with  our  party,  the 
veteran  sportsman  shouldered  his  trusty  rifle, 
and  wishing  our  hero  a  successful  hunt,  and 
shaking  his  old  comrade  Baptiste  cordially  by 
the  hand,  walked  off  leisurely  in  a  northerly  di- 
rection, towards  his  present  abode;  which  was 
not,  he  said,  so  far  distant  but  that  he  should 
easily  reach  it  before  sundown. 

As  the  last  glimpse  of  his  retiring  figure  was 
lost  in  the  shades  of  the  forest,  the  Guide  uttered 
one  of  those  grunts  which  he  sometimes  uncon- 
sciously indulged.  Reginald  knew  that  on  these 
occasions  there  was  something  on  his  mind,  and 
guessing  that  it  referred  to  their  departed  guest, 
he  said, 

"Well,  Baptiste,  I  am  really  glad  to  have  seen 
Daniel  Boone;  and  I  can  truly  say,  I  am  not 
disappointed ;  he  seems  to  be  just  the  sort  of  man 
that  I  expected  to  see." 


*  The  Pawnee  nations  have  of  late  3'ears  fixed  their  win- 
ter Tillages  on  the  banks  of  the  Nebraska,  or  Platte  River, 
many  humlred  miles  to  the  N.W.  of  the  spot  named  in  the 
vcxt ;  but  at  the  date  of  our  narrative  they  dwelt  on  the 
Dauks  of  the  Kunsas,  where  the  ruins  of  their  principal  vil- 
jage  are  still  faintly  to  be  discerned. 


"  He  is  a  sort,"  said  the  Guide,  "  that  we  don't 
see  every  day.  Master  Reginald.  Perhaps  he 
ain't  much  of  a  talker;  an'  he  don't  use  to  quar- 
rel unless  there's  a  reason  Ibr't ;  but  if  he's  once 
aggravated,  or  if  his  friend's  in  a  scrape,  he's 
rather  apt  to  be  dangerous." 

"  I  doubt  it  not,"  said  Reginald  ;  "  there  is  a 
quiet  look  of  resolution  about  him;  and,  in  a 
difficulty,  I  would  rather  have  one  such  man 
with  me  than  two  or  three  of  your  violent,  noisy 
brawlers." 

As  he  said  this  his  eye  inadvertently  rested 
upon  the  huge  figure  of  Mike  Smith,  who  was 
seated  at  a  little  distance  lazily  smoking  his 
pipe,  and  leaning  against  a  log  of  fallen  timber. 
The  Guide  observed  the  direction  of  Reginald's 
eye,  and  guessed  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 
A  grave  smile  stole  for  a  moment  over  his  fea- 
tures ;  but  he  made  no  reply,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes, the  marching  orders  being  issued,  the  party 
resumed  their  journey. 

On  the  following  day  they  reached  a  point 
where  the  track  branched  off  in  two  directions; 
the  broader,  and  more  beaten,  to  theN.W. ;  the 
other  towards  the  S.W.  The  Guide  inform- 
ed them  that  the  former  led  along  by  the  few  scat- 
tered settlements,  that  were  already  made  on  the 
southern  side  of  the  Missouri,  towards  the  ferry 
and  trading-post  near  the  mouih  of  the  Konsas 
river;  while  the  smaller,  and  less  beaten  track, 
led  towards  the  branch  of  Osage  river,  on  which 
the  united  party  of  Delawares  and  Osages,  whom 
thev  sought,  were  encamped. 

Having  followed  this  track  for  fifty  miles,  they 
came  to  a  spot,  then  known  among  hunters  by 
the  name  of  the  Elk  Flats,  where  the  branch  oi 
the  Osage,  called  Grand  River,  is  fordable 
Here  they  crossed  without  accident  or  difficu  ty, 
except  that  M.  Perrot's  horse  missed  his  footing, 
and  slipped  into  a  deeper  part  of  the  stream. 
The  horse  swam  lustily,  and  soon  reached  the 
opposite  bank ;  but  the  Frenchman  had  cast  him- 
self off,  and  now  grasped  with  both  hands  an  old 
limb  of  a  tree  that  was  imbedded  near  the  mid- 
dle of  the  river;  he  could  just  touch  the  ground 
with  his  feet,  but,  being  a  bad  swimmer,  he  was 
afraid  to  let  go  his  hold,  for  fear  of  being  again 
swept  away  by  the  current,  while  his  rueful 
countenance,  and  his  cries  for  assistance,  pro- 
voked the  mirth  of  all  the  party. 

After  enjoying  his  valet's  alarm  for  a  few  min- 
utes, Reginald,  who  had  already  cros.sed,  entered 
the  river  again  with  Nekimi,  and  approaching 
Perrot,  desired  him  to  grasp  the  mane  firmly  in 
his  hand,  and  leave  the  rest  to  the  animal's  sa- 
gacity, which  instruction  being  obeyed,  he  was 
safely  brought  ashore,  and  in  a  short  time  was 
laughing  louder  than  the  rest  at  his  own  fright, 
and  at  the  ludicrous  predicament  from  which  he 
had  been  extricated. 

The  packages  were  all  conveyed  across  with 
out  accident,  and  the  party  found  themselves  en- 
camped in  what  was  then  considered  a  part  of 
the  Osage  country.  Here  they  were  obliged  to 
use  greater  vigilance  in  the  protection  of  their 
camp  and  of  their  horses,  during  the  night,  as 
they  had  not  yet  smoked  the  pipe  with  the  chiefs, 
and  were  liable  to  an  attack  from  a  part}  of 
warriors  or  horsestealers. 

The  night  passed,  however,  without  any  dis- 
turbance; and  on  the  following  day  at  noon,  they 
reached  a  spot  which  Baptiste  recognized  as  a 
former  camping-place  of  the  Osages,  and  which 
he  knew  to  be  not  distant  from  their  present  vil- 
lage.   Here  his  attention  was  suddenly  draws 


58 


THE  PRAiRlE-BIRD. 


.0  an  adjoining  maple,  on  the  bark  of  which 
sundry  marlcs  were  nulely  cut,  and  in  a  fork  ol 
vhe  tree  were  three  arrows,  and  as  many  separ- 
ate bunches  of  liorsehair.  He  examined  all  tliesc 
carefully,  and  replaced  them  exactly  as  he  fuuiul 
them;  after  which  he  informed  Reginald  that 
three  braves  of  the  Osr.ges  iiad  gone  lorward  ilu- 
ring  the  past  night  on  a  war-excursion  towards 
the  Konsas,  and  all  these  marks  were  left  to  in- 
form their  followers  of  their  pur])ose,  and  the 
exact  path  which  they  intended  to  pursue,  hie 
also  advised  Reginald  to  halt  his  party  here, 
while  he  went  on  himself  with  one  of  the  men 
to  the  village,  it  being  contrary  to  the  customs  of 
Indian  etiquette  for  a  great  man  to  come  among 
.hem  unannounced. 

R.eginald  adopted  his  counsel,  and  the  sturdy 
Guide,  accompanied  by  one  of  the  coureurs  des 
Bois,  set  out  upon  his  mission,  the  result  of  which 
will  appear  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Reginald  and  his  Party  reach  the  Indian  Eiicanijiment. 

The  Guide  and  his  companion  pursued  their 
way  leisurely  along  a  beaten  track,  which  led 
them  through  a  well-timbered  valley,  watered 
by  one  of  the  branches  of  Grand  River,  until  it 
emerged  upon  a  rising  slope  of  open  prairie. 
Having  gained  its  summit,  they  saw  at  a  little 
distance  the  Indian  encampment  stretched  along 
the  banks  of  a  rivulet,  which,  after  curving  round 
the  base  of  the  hill  on  which  they  now  stood, 
found  its  way  to  the  line  of  heavy  timber  that 
marked  the  course  of  the  main  river.  They 
Were  soon  hailed  by  a  mounted  Delaware  scout, 
to  whom  Baptiste  explained  the  peaceful  nature 
of  his  mission,  and  desired  to  be  shown  into  the 
presence  of  the  principal  chiefs. 

As  the  Guide  walked  through  the  scattered 
lodges  of  the  Dclawares,  his  eye  rested  on  more 
than  one  Indian  to  whom  he  was  well  known; 
Dut  as  he  was  now  acting  in  the  capacity  of  am- 
bassador, it  was  not  consistent  with  Indian 
usage  that  he  should  speak  or  be  spoken  to  by 
others  on  the  way.  So  well  did  he  know  the 
habits  of  the  people  among  whom  he  now  found 
himself,  that  when  he  arrived  before  the  lodge  of 
the  Great  Chief,  he  passed  by  War-flngle  and 
Wingenund,  who  had  come  to  its  entrance  on 
the  approach  of  a  stranger,  and  giving  them 
merely  a  silent  sign  of  recognition,  took  the  place 
pointed  out  to  him  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge,  by 
the  side  of  th«  venerable  man  who  was  the  head 
of  this  emigrant  band  of  the  Lenape  ;  to  whom, 
as  the  highest  proof  of  their  respect  and  venera- 
tion, they  had  given  the  name  of  Tamenund,* 
by  which  alone  he  was  now  known  throughout 
the  nation. 


*  The  name  of  Tamenund  is  doubtless  familiar  to  all 
Americans  who  have  taken  the  slifjhtest  interest  lu  the  his- 
tory of  the  Indian  tribes,  as  well  as  to  that  more  numerous 
class  who  have  read  the  graphic  and  picturesque  descrip- 
tions penned  by  the  great  American  novelist ;  nevertheless, 
it  nray  be  necessary,  for  the  information  of  some  European 
reaUerSj.to  state,  that  Tamenund  was  an  ancient  Lenap6 
chief,  wltose  traditionary  fame  is  so  great  in  the  tribe,  that 
•hey  have  from  time  to  time  given  his  name  to  chiefs,  and 
even  to  white  men,  whom  they  desired  espnoially  to  hon- 
our. At  the  time  of  the  revolutionary  war,  so  numerous 
were  the  traditions  and  legends  respecting  this  hero,  that 
he  waa  in  some  quarters  established  as  the  patroEi  siiint  of 
America,  undertbc  name  of  St.  Tammany  ;  and  hence  arose 
the  Tammany  societies  and  Tammany  buildings  in  various 
parts  of  the  Onion.  See  HcckewaUer's  Historical  Account 
of  the  Indian  Nations,  chap,  xl.,  and  The  Last  of  the  Mohi- 
cans, vol.  iii.,  p.  152,  &c 


The  pipe  of  wdcome,  having  been  presenteit, 
and  been  smoked  for  a  few  minutes  with  becom- 
ing gravity,  Baptiste  opened  to  Tamenund  the 
object  of  bis  visii,  and  intormed  him  that  a  white 
warrior  and  chiei;  already  known  to  some  of  tlue 
Delawares  present,  desired  to  eat,  to  smoke,  and  to 
hunt  witii  them  for  a  season  as  a  brother.  To 
this  Tamenund,  who  had  already  been  inlbrmed 
by  War-Eagle  of  the  character  and  conduct. of 
Reginald,  as  well  as  of  his  promised  visit,  repli- 
ed with  becoming  dignity  and  hospitality,  that 
the  young  wbite  chief  should  be  welcome;  that 
his  heart  was  known  to  begreat  among  the  Del- 
av/are.s,  and  that  both  he  and  his  people  should 
be  held  as  brothers;  at  the  same  time  he  inlbrm- 
ed the  Guide,  that  as  they  were  about  to  move 
their  encampment  immediately  to  a  more  fa- 
vourable spot,  it  might  be  better  for  the  White 
Chief  to  join  them  on  the  Ibllowing  morning, 
when  all  should  be  prepared  for  his  reception. 

The  Guide  having  acceded  to  this  suggestion, 
rose  to  take  his  leave,  and  retired  with  his  com- 
panion from  the  village.  Before  they  had  gone 
a  mile  on  their  return,  they  heard  behind  them 
the  trampling  of  horses,  and  Baptiste  recognised 
War-Eagle  and  Wingenund  approaching  at  full 
speed,  who  greeted  him  cordially,  and  made 
many  inquiries  about  Netis  and'  the  Lily  of 
Mooshanne. 

Having  acquired  the  desired  information,  it 
was  agreed,  that  before  noon  on  the  following 
day  Reginald  should  come  to  the  spot  where 
they  were  now  conversing,  and  that  War-Eagle 
should  be  there  to  escort  and  accompany  him  to 
his  first  meeting  with  the  Delaware  and  Osage 
chiefs. 

The.-e  preliminaries  being  arranged,  the  Indi- 
ans galloped  back  to  the  village,  and  Baptiste 
returned  without  accident  or  interruption  to  Re- 
ginald's camp,  where  he  gave  an  account  of  his 
mission  and  of  the  arrangements  for  the  mor 
row's  conlerencc. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  they  set  forth 
towards  the  Indian  village.  By  Baptiste's  ad- 
vice, Reginald  attired  himself  more  gaily  than 
usual;  his  hunting-shirt  and  leggins  of  elkskin 
were  ornamented  with  fringes;  the  bugle  slung 
across  his  shoulders  was  suspended  by  a  green 
conl  adorned  with  tassels;  on  his  head  he  wore 
a  forage-cap  encircled  by  a  gold  band;  a  brace 
of  silver-mounted  pistols  were  stuck  in  his  belt, 
and  a  German  boar-knife  hung  at  his  side ;  he 
had  allowed  Baptiste  to  ornament  Nekimi's  bri- 
dle with  beads,  after  the  Indian  fashioi.,  and  the 
noble  animal  pranced  under  his  gallant  ridei  as 
if  conscious  that  he  was  expected  to  show  his 
beauty  and  his  mettle.  The  dress  and  appear- 
ance of  Reginald,  though  fanciful  and  strange, 
were  rendered  striking  by  the  grace  and  muscu- 
lar vigour  of  his  frame,  as  well  as  by  the  open, 
tearless  character  of  his  countenance;  and  the 
party  of  Whitemcn  went  gaily  forward,  confi- 
dent in  the  favourable  impression  which  their 
young  leader  would  make  on  their  Indian  al- 
lies. 

When  they  reached  the  spot  where  Baptiste 
had,  on  the  preceding  day,  parted  from  War- 
Eagle,  they  descried  "two  Indians  sitting  at  the 
root  of  an  old  maple-tree,  as  if  awaiting  their  ar- 
rival; a  single  glance  enabled  Reginald  to  rec- 
ognise them,  and  springing  from  his  horse,  he 
greeted  War-Eagle  and  Wingenund  with  allec- 
tionate  cordiality,  and  read  in  the  looks  of  both, 
though  they  spoke  little,  that  he  was  heartily 
welcome.    '  Wti«^"  '''«^v  had  saluted  Baptiste,  Re- 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


59 


,5inald  introduced  them  in  form  to  the  other 
members  of  his  party,  and  among  the  rest,  to 
Monsieur  Perrot,  who  having  as  yet  seen  few 
Indians,  and  those  of  the  meanest  class,  was  sur- 
prised at  the  noble  and  dignified  appearance  of 
War-Eagle,  to  whom  he  doffed  his  cap  with  as 
much  respect  as  if  he  had  been  a  field-marshal 
jf  France. 

Having  made  a  short  halt,  during  which  the 
pipe  was  passed  round,  and  some  cakes  of  In- 
dian corn  and  honey  set  before  their  guests,  the 
party  again  moved  forward,  under  the  guidance 
of  War-Eagle.  Leaving  the  heavy  timber  in 
the  valley,  they  ascended  the  opposite  hill,  where 
a  magnificent  prospect  opened  upon  their  view; 
below  them  was  an  undulating  prairie  of  bound- 
less extent,  through  the  middle  of  which  ran  a 
tributary  branch  of  Grand  River;  behind  them 
lay  the  verdant  mass  of  forest  from  which  they 
had  lately  emerged ;  the  plain  in  front  was  dot- 
ted with  the  lodges  of  the  Delawares  and  the 
Osages,  while  scattered  groups  of  Indians,  and 
grazing  horses,  gave  life,  animation,  and  endless 
variety  to  the  scene. 

Halting  for  a  moment  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
War-Eagle  pointed  out  to  Reginald  the  lodge  of 
his  father  Tamenund,  distinguished  above  the 
rest  by  its  superior  size  and  elevation,  and  at  the 
same  time  showed  him  at  the  other  extremity  of 
the  encampment,  a  lodge  of  similar  dimensions, 
which  he  described  as  being  that  of  the  Osage 
chief 

"  How  is  he  called  1"  inquired  Reginald. 

"Mahega,"  replied  the  War-Eagle. 

At  the  mention  of  this  name  the  Guide  uttered 
cue  of  those  peculiar  sounds,  something  between 
a  whistle  and  a  grunt,  by  which  Reginald  knew 
that  something  was  passing  in  his  mind,  but  on 
this  occasion,  without  apparently  noticing  the 
interruption,  he  continued,  addressing  War- 
Eagle,  "  Will  Mahega  receive  me  too  as  a 
brother — is  the  Osage  chief  a  friend  to  the  White- 
men  1" 

"Mahc^ga  is  a  warrior,"  replied  the  Indian; 
"he  hunts  with  the  Lenape,  and  he  must  be  a 
friend  of  their  brother." 

Not  only  did  this  answer  appear  evasive,  but 
there  was  also  something  more  than  usually 
constrained  in  the  tone  and  manner  of  War-Ea- 
gle, which  did  not  escape  the  observation  of 
Reginald,  and  with  the  straightforward  openness 
of  his  character,  he  said,  "War-Eagle,  my  heart 
is  open  to  you,  and  my  tongue  can  be  silent  if 
required — speak  to  me  freely,  and  tell  me  ifMa- 
hega  is  a  friend  or  not ;  is  he  a  brave  or  a 
snake  1" 

War-Eagle,  fixing  his  searching  eye  upon 
Reginald's  countenance,  replied,  "Mahega  is  a 
warrior — the  scalps  in  his  lodge  are  many — his 
name  is  not  a  lie,  but  his  heart  is  not  that  of  a 
Lenape— War- Eagle  will  not  speak  of  him: — 
Grand  Hache  knows  him,  and  my  brotlier'seyes 
will  be  open." 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  young  chief  added  a 
few  words  in  his  own  tongue  to  Baptiste,  and 
making  a  sign  for  Wingenund  to  follow,  he 
galloped  off  at  speed  towards  the  encamp- 
ment. 

Reginald,  surprised,  and  somewhat  inclined 
to  be  displeased  by  their  abrupt  departure,  turn- 
ed to  the  Guide,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  it. 
and  also  the  meaning  of  War-Eagle's  las'. 
words. 

T^iptiste,  shaking  his  head  significantly,  re- 
flinl  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  know  Mahega  well — 


at  least  I  have  heard  much  of  him ;  his  narnp 
signifies  '  Red-hand,'  and,  as  the  young  chief 
says,  it  tells  no  lie,  for  he  has  killed  many ;  last 
year  he  attacked  a  war-party  of  the  Outagamis* 
near  the  Great  River,  and  cut  them  ofi'  to  a  man ; 
he  himself  killed  their  chief  and  several  of  their 
warriors — they  say  he  is  the  strongest  and  thi 
bravest  man  in  the  nation." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Reginald,  "that  War 
Eagle  and  he  are  not  very  good  friends." 

"  They  are  not,"  replied  Baptiste;  "the  young 
Delaware  has  evidently  some  quarrel  with  him, 
and  therefore  would  not  speak  of  him — we  shall 
learn  what  it  is  before  many  days  are  over; 
meanwhile.  Master  Reginald,  say  nothing  to 
any  others  of  the  party  on  this  subject,  lor  they 
may  take  alarm,  or  show  suspicion,  and  if  they 
do,  your  summer  hunt  may  chance  to  end  ia 
rougher  play  than  we  expect.  I  will  keep  my 
eye  on  '  Red-hand,'  and  will  soon  tell  you  what 
tree  he's  making  for." 

"  Why  did  they  gallop  off  so  abrupt\y  1"  in- 
quired Reginald. 

"  They  are  gone  to  rejoin  the  bands  which 
are  coming  out  to  receive  us  on  our  entrance," 
replied  the  Guide.  "  We  must  put  our  party 
in  their  best  array,  and  get  the  presents  ready, 
for  we  have  not  many  minutes  to  spare." 

The  event  proved  the  correctness  of  his  calcu 
lation ;  for  they  had  scarcely  time  to  select  from 
the  packs  those  articles  destined  to  be  presentee 
to  the  chiefs  at  this  interview,  before  they  saw 
two  large  bands  of  mounted  Indians  gallop  to- 
wards them  from  the  opposite  extremities  of  th« 
encampment.  As  they  drew  near  that  whicl 
came  from  the  Delaware  quarter,  and  was  head 
ed  liy  War-Eagle  in  person,  they  checked  theii 
speed,  and  approached  slowly,  while  their  lead 
er,  advancing  in  front  of  the  band,  saluted  Regi- 
nald and  his  party  with  dignified  courtesy. 
Meanwhile,  the  body  of  Osages  continued  theii 
career  with  headlong  speed,  shouting,  yelling, 
and  going  through  all  the  exciting  manoeuvres 
of  a  mock  fight,  after  their  wild  fashion.  Their 
dress  was  more  scanty  and  less  ornamented  than 
that  of  the  Delawares ;  but  being  tricked  out 
with  painted  horsehair,  porcupine  quills,  and 
feathers,  it  bore  altogether  a  more  gay  and  pic- 
turesque appearance;  neither  can  it  be  denied 
that  they  were,  in  general,  better  horsemen  than 
their  allies ;  and  they  seemed  to  delight  in  show- 
ing off  their  equestrian  skill,  especially  in  gal- 
loping up  to  Reginald's  party  at  the  very  top  of 
their  speed,  and  then  either  halting  so  suddenly 
as  to  throw  their  horses  quite  back  upon  theii 
haunches,  or  dividing  off  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  and  renewing  their  manoeuvres  in  another 
quarter  with  increased  extravagance  of  noise 
and  gesture. 

Reginald  having  learned  from  Baptiste  that 
this  was  their  mode  of  showing  honour  to  guests 
on  their  arrival,  awaited  patiently  the  termina- 
tion of  their  mana'uvres;  and  when  at  length 
tliey  ceased,  and  the  Osage  party  reined  their 
horses  up  by  the  side  of  the  Delawares,  he  went 
forward  and  shook  hands  with  Iheir  leader,  a 
warrior  somewhat  older  than  War-Eagle,  and 
of  a  fine  martial  appearance.  As  soon  as  he 
found  an  opportunity,  Reginald,  turning  to"\yin- 
genund,  who  was  close  behind  him,  in(|uired, 
in  English,  if  that  Osage   chief  was  "  Mahe- 

gar ; 

*  The  tnlie  ralleil  by  white  men  "  tlie  Fnxes,"  who  in- 
huliit  chielly  the  regioa  between  the  Ujiper  Mississippi  and 
Lake  Michigan. 


40 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"No,"  replied  the  youth,  "that  is  a  brave,* 
called  in  their  tongue  the  Black-Wolf.  Mahe- 
ga,"  he  added  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  is  very 
different." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Wingenund  V 

"  Blaek-WoH'"  replied  the  youth,  "is  a  war- 
rior, and  has  no  fear,  but  he  is  not  like  Mahe- 
ga;  an  anielope  is  not  an  elk  '" 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  the 
party  entered  the  encampment,  and  wound  their 
way  among  its  scattered  lodges,  towards  that  of 
Tamenund,  where,  as  the  War-Eagle  informed 
Reginald,  a  feast  was  prepared  for  his  reception, 
-o  which  Mahega  and  the  other  Osage  leaders 
were  invited. 

On  arriving  before  the  great  lodge,  Reginald 
and  his  companions  dismounted,  and  giving  their 
horses  to  the  youths  in  attendance,  shook  hands 
in  succession  with  the  principal  chiefs  and  braves 
of  the  two  nations.  Reginald  was  much  struck 
by  the  benevolent  and  dignified  countenance  of 
the  Delaware  chief;  but  in  spite  of  himself,  and 
of  a  preconceived  dislike  which  he  was  inclined 
to  entertain  towards  Mahega  or  Red-hand,  his 
eye  rested  on  that  haughty  chieftain  with  min- 
gled surprise  and  admiration.  He  was  nearly  a 
head  taller  than  those  by  whom  he  was  surround- 
ed; and  his  limbs,  though  cast  in  a  Herculean 
mould,  showed  the  symmetrical  proportions 
which  are  so  distinctive  of  the  North  American 
Indians ;  his  forehead  was  bold  and  high,  his 
nose  aquiline,  and  his  mouth  broad,  firm,  and 
expressive  of  most  determined  character;  his 
e)'e  was  rather  small,  but  bright  and  piercing  as 
a  hawk's;  his  hair  had  been  all  shaven  from  his 
head,  with  the  exception  of  the  scalp-lock  on  the 
crown,  which  was  painted  scarlet,  and  interwo- 
ven with  a  tuft  of  horsehair  dyed  of  the  same  col- 
our. Around  his  muscular  throat  was  suspend- 
ed a  collar  formed  from  the  claws  of  the  grizzly 
bear,  ornamented  with  parti-coloured  beads,  en- 
twined with  the  delicate  fur  of  the  white  ermine ; 
his  hunting-shirt  and  leggins  were  of  the  finest 
antelope  skin,  and  his  mocassins  were  adorned 
with  beads  and  the  stained  quills  of  the  porcu- 
pine. He  leaned  carelessly  on  a  bow,  which 
lew  men  in  the  tribe  could  bend.  At  his  back 
were  slung  his  arrows  in  a  quiver  made  of  wolf- 
skin, so  disposed  that  the  grinning  visage  of  the 
animal  was  seen  above  his  shoulder,  while  a 
war-club  and  scalping-knife,  fastened  to  his  belt, 
completed  the  formidable  Mahega's  equipment. 

As  he  glanced  his  eye  over  the  party  of  white 
men,  there  was  an  expression  of  scornful  pride 
on  his  countenance,  which  the  quick  temper  of 
their  youthful  leader  was  ill  disposed  to  brook, 
had  not  the  prudent  counsels  of  the  Guide  pre- 
pared him  for  the  exercise  of  self-command. 
Nevertheless,  as  he  turned  from  the  Osage  chief 
to  the  bulky  proportions  of  his  gigantic  follower, 
Mike  Smith,  he  felt  that  it  was  like  comparing 
a  lion  with  an  ox ;  and  that  in  the  event  of  a 


*  In  describing  the  manners  and  distinctions  of  rank 
among  the  Indians  of  the  Missouri  plains,  it  is  necessary  to 
ttdopt  the  terms  in  common  use  among  the  guides  and  tra- 
ders, however  vague  and  unsatisfactory  those  terms  may 
be-  In  these  tribes  the  chieftainship  is  partly  hereditary 
and  partly  elective  ;  there  is  usually  one  Great  Chief,  and 
there  are  also  chiefs  of  a  second  degree,  who  are  chiefs  of 
different  bands  in  the  tribe  ;  next  to  these  in  rank  are  the 
"Braves,"  the  leading  warriors  of  the  nation  ;  and  in  order 
to  be  qualified  for  admission  into  '.his  rank,  an  Indian  must 
have  killed  an  enemy  or  given  othei  sufficient  evidence  of 
courage  and  capacity.  When  a  war-council  is  held,  the 
opinion  of  the  principal  Brave  is  frequently  preferred  be- 
fore Chat  of  the  chief 


quarrel  between  them,  the  rifle  alone  could  ren- 
der its  issue  doubtful. 

The  least  of  welcome  was  now  prepared  in 
the  lodge  of  Tamenund,  which  was  composed 
of  bison  skins  stretched  upon  poles,  arranged  in 
the  Ibrm  of  a  horse-shoe,  and  covering  an  extent 
of  ground  apparently  not  less  than  twenty  yard.s 
in  length.  Reginald  observed  also  several  small- 
er lodges  immediately  adjoining  that  of  the  chief, 
on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  a  circular  tent  of 
wax-cloth,  or  painted  canvass,  evidently  pro- 
'cured  from  while  men,  as  it  was  of  excellent 
texture,  and  its  door,  or  aperture,  protected  by 
double  folds  of  the  same  material. 

While  he  was  still  looking  at  this  compara- 
tively civilized  dwelling,  with  some  curiosity  to 
know  by  whom  it  might  be  tenanted,  the  folds 
of  the  opening  were  pushed  aude,  and  an  elder- 
ly man  appeared,  who,  after  contemplating  for 
a  moment  the  newly-arrived  group,  came  for- 
ward to  offer  them  a  friendly  salutation.  He 
was  apparently  between  fifty  and  sixty;  but  his 
years  were  not  easily  guessed,  for  his  snow- 
white  hair  might  seem  to  have  numbered  seven- 
ty winters ;  while  from  the  uprightness  of  his 
carriage,  and  the  elasticity  of  his  step,  he  seem- 
ed scarcely  past  the  vigour  of  middle  life.  In 
figure  he  was  tall  and  slight;  his  countenance, 
though  tanned  by  long  exposure  to  the  sun,  was 
strikingly  attractive,  and  his  mild  blue  eye 
beamed  with  an  expression  of  benevolence  not 
to  be  mistaken.  His  dress  was  a  black  frock 
of  serge,  fastened  at  the  waist  by  a  girdle  of  the 
same  colour,  from  which  was  suspended  a  small 
bag,  wherein  he  carried  the  few  simples  and  in- 
struments requisite  for  his  daily  offices  cf  chari- 
ty and  kindness.  Dark  grey  trousers  of  the 
coarsest  texture,  and  mocassins  of  buffalo  hide, 
completed  the  dress  of  Paul  Miiller,  already 
mentioned  by  Wingenund  to  Reginald  as  the 
"Black  Father;"  under  which  name,  translated 
according  to  their  various  languages,  the  pious 
and  excellent  Missionary  was  known  among  the 
Delawares,  Osages,  loways,  Otoes,  Konsas,  and 
other  tribes  then  inhabiting  the  regions  lying  be- 
tween the  Missouri  and  the  Arkansas. 

Such  was  the  man  who  now  came  forward  to 
greet  the  newly-arrived  party;  and  such  was  the 
irresistible  charm  of  his  voice  and  manner,  that 
from  the  first  Reginald  felt  himself  constrained 
to  love  and  respect  him. 

The  feast  being  now  ready,  and  Reginald  hav- 
ing pointed  out  Baptiste  and  Bearskin  as  his 
ofiicers,  or  lieutenants,  they  were  invited  with 
him  to  sit  down  in  the  lodge  of  Tamenund,  with 
the  principal  chiefs  of  the  Delawares,  the  Chief 
and  Great  Medicine  Man*  of  the  Osages,  and  the 
Black  Father.  (Mike  Smith  and  the  other  white 
men  being  leasted  by  a  brave  in  an  adjoining 
lodge.)  The  pipe  was  lighted,  and  having  been 
passed  twice  round  the  party  with  silent  gravity, 
the  Great  Medicine  made  a  speech,  in  which  ha 
praised  the  virtues  and  hospitality  of  Tamenund, 
and  paid  many  compliments  to  the  white  guests ; 
after  which  a  substantial  dinner  was  set  before 


*  "  Medicine-men."  This  term  (commonly  used  by  tra- 
ders among  the  Indians  beyond  the  Mississippi)  signifies  the 
"  priests,"  or  "  myster)--men,"  who  are  set  apart  for  the 
celebration  of  all  religious  rites  and  ceremonies.  They  are 
the  same  class  as  those  who  were  described  by  Charlevoix, 
and  other  early  French  writers,  as  "Jongleurs,"  becauss 
they  uuite  medical  practice  to  their  sacerdotal  office,  and., 
more  especially  in  the  former,  exercise  all  manner  of  absurd 
mummery.  Their  dress,  character,  and  habits  vary  accord- 
ing to  the  tribe  to  which  they  Ijelong ;  but  they  are  genuine 
"  Jongleurs"  throughout. 


THE     PAIRIE-BIRD. 


61 


ihem,  consisting  of  roasted  buffalo-ribs,  venison, 
and  boiled  maize. 

Reginald  had  never  before  been  present  at  an 
Indian  feast,  and  though  he  had  the  appetite  nat- 
urally belonging  to  his  age  and  health,  he  soon 
found  that  he  was  no  match,  as  a  trencherman, 
for  those  among  whom  he  was  now  placed ;  and 
before  they  had  half  finished  their  meal,  he  re- 
placed his  knife  in  its  sheath  and  announced 
liimself  satisfied. 

The  old  chief  smiled  good-humouredly,  and 
said  that  he  would  soon  do  better,  while  Mahega, 
quietly  commencing  an  attack  upon  a  third  buf- 
falo-rib, glanced  at  him  with  a  look  of  contempt 
that  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal,  and  which, 
as  may  well  be  imagined,  increased  our  hero's 
dislike  for  the  gigantic  Osage. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Reginald  and  his  party  at  the  Indian  encampment. 

While  Reginald  and  his  two  companions 
were  feasting  with  Tamenund,  a  similar  repast 
was  laid  before  the  rest  of  the  party,  in  the 
lodge  of  a  brave  named  Maque-o-nah,  or  the 
•'  Bear-asleep,"  at  which  Mike  Smith  occupied 
the  centre,  or  principal  seat,  and  next  to  him 
sat  Monsieur  Perrot — the  latter  personage  being 
very  curious  to  see  the  culinary  arrangements 
made  for  this,  his  first  Indian  banquet.  He 
was  horrified  at  observing  the  carelessness 
with  which  they  thrust  half  the  side  of  a  buffalo 
to  the  edge  of  a  huge  fire  of  undried  wood, 
leaving  a  portion  of  the  meat  to  be  singed  and 
burnt,  while  other  parts  were  scarcely  exposed 
to  the  heat ;  he  coidd  not  refrain  from  express- 
ing to  one  of  the  Canadian  coureurs  des  Bois, 
in  his  own  language,  his  contempt  and  pity  for 
the  ignorant  savages,  who  thus  presumed  to 
desecrate  a  noble  science,  which  ranked  higher, 
in  his  estimation,  than  poetry,  painting,  or 
sculpture ;  but  he  was  warned  that  he  must  be 
very  careful  neither  to  reject,  nor  show  any 
distaste  for  the  food  set  before  him,  as,  by  so 
doing,  he  would  give  mortal  offence  to  his  en- 
tertamers.  It  was  ludicrous  in  the  extreme  to 
watch  the  poor  Frenchman's  attempts  at  im- 
parting to  his  features  a  smile  of  satisfaction, 
when  a  wooden  bowl  was  placed  before  him, 
filled  with  half  boiled  maize,  and  beside  it  one 
of  the  buffalo  ribs,  evidently  least  favoured  by 
the  fire,  as  it  was  scarce  .  warmed  through, 
and  was  tough  and  stringy  as  shoe-leather. 
After  bestowing  upon  sundry  portions  of  it 
many  fruitless  attempts  at  mastication,  he  con- 
trived, unperceived,  to  slip  what  remained  of 
the  meat  into  the  pocket  of  his  jacket,  and  then 
laughed  with  great  self  satisfaction  at  the  trick 
he  had  played  his  uncivilized  hosts. 

When  the  feast  was  concluded  in  Tamenund's 
lodge,  Reginald  desired  his  men  to  unpack  one 
of  the  bales,  which  he  pointed  out,  and  to  spread 
its  contents  before  him  ;  the  savages  gathered 
round  the  coveted  and  glittering  objects,  with 
eager  but  silent  astonishment,  while  he  sepa- 
rated the  presents  which,  by  the  advice  of  Bap- 
tiste,  were  now  distributed  among  their  chiefs  : 
to  Tamenund  he  apportioned  a  large  blanket  of 
scarlet  cloth,  a  sdver  mounted  pistol,  and  a  bas- 
ket containing  mirrors,  beads,  and  trinkets,  for 
his  wives  and  daughters.    To  Mahega  a  bridle 


ornamented  with  beads,  several  pounds  of  to- 
bacco, powder,  and  lead,  a  fowling-piece,  and  a 
blanket  of  blue  woollen-stuff.  The  features  of 
the  Osage  Chief  relaxed  into  a  grim  smile  of 
satisfaction  as  he  received  these  valuable  gifts, 
and  he  so  far  overcame  the  repulsive  sternness 
of  his  usual  character  as  to  seize  Reginald's 
hand,  and  to  tell  him  that  he  was  a  great  chief, 
and  good  to  his  Indian  brothers.  The  other 
presents  having  been  distributed  among  the 
chiefs  and  braves,  according  to  their  rank,  the 
feast  was  broken  up  and  they  retired  to  their 
respective  lodges  ;  Reginald,  Baptiste,  and  M. 
Perrot,  being  accommodated  in  that  of  Tame- 
nund himself,  and  Bearskin,  with  the  rest  of 
the  white-men's  party,  in  those  lodges  which 
have  before  been  mentioned  as  being  contiguous 
to  that  of  the  old  chief 

During  the  first  night  that  he  spent  in  his 
new  quarters,  the  excitement,  and  novelty  of 
the  scene,  banished  sleep  from  the  eyes  of  Regi- 
nald, and  finding  himself  restless,  he  arose  half 
an  hour  before  daybreak,  to  enjoy  the  early 
freshness  of  the  morning.  Throwing  his  rifle 
over  his  arm,  he  was  about  to  leave  the  lodge, 
when  Baptiste  touched  him,  and  inquired  in  a 
low  voice,  if  he  were  prepared  with  a  reply  in 
case  of  being  challenged  by  any  of  the  scouts 
around  the  encampment ;  with  some  shame  he 
confessed  he  had  forgotten  it,  and  the  guide 
then  instructed  him,  if  he  were  challenged,  to 
say  "  Lenape  n'a  ki  Nclis,"  or  "  I  am  Netis,  the 
friend  of  the  Delawares."  Being  thus  prepared, 
and  carrying  with  him  the  few  articles  requisit*. 
for  a  prairie  toilet,  he  stepped  out  into  the  opeH 
air.  Close  by  the  opening  of  the  lodge  he  saw 
a  tall  figure  stretched  on  the  grass,  enveloped 
in  a  buffalo-robe,  the  hairy  fell  of  which  was 
sdvered  with  the  heavy  night-dew  ;  it  was  War- 
Eagle,  who  rarely  slept  in  lodge  or  tent,  and 
whose  quick  eye,  though  he  neither  moved  nor 
spoke,  discerned  his  white  brother  in  a  mo- 
ment, although  the  latter  could  not  recognize  his 
friend. 

Reginald  pursued  his  way  through  the  en- 
campment to  its  extremity,  where  the  streamlet 
before  mentioned  wound  its  course  among  the 
dells  and  hillocks  o*"  the  prairie,  until  it  reached 
the  larger  river  that  flowed  through  the  distant 
forest.  After  following  the  banks  of  the  stream 
for  one  or  two  miles,  the  red  streaks  in  the 
eastern  horizon  gave  notice  of  day's  approach, 
and  observing  near  him  a  hill,  somewhat  more 
elevated  than  those  by  which  it  was  surrounded, 
Reginald  climbed  to  its  top,  in  order  to  observe 
the  effect  of  sunrise  on  that  wild  and  pictures 
que  scene. 

To  the  westward,  the  undulations  of  the 
prairie,  wrapped  in  heavy  folds  of  mist,  rose  in 
confused  heaps  like  the  waves  of  a  boundless 
ocean :  to  the  south,  he  could  just  distinguish 
the  lodges  and  the  smouldering  fires  of  the  en- 
campment, whence,  at  intervals,  there  fell  upon 
his  ear  mingled  and  indistinct  sounds,  disagree 
able  perhaps  in  themselves,  but  rendered  har- 
monious by  distance,  and  by  their  unisor  with 
the  wildness  of  the  surrounding  objects  ;  T^hiie 
to  the  eastward  lay  a  dense  and  gloomy  range 
of  woods,  over  the  summits  of  whose  foliage 
the  dawning  sun  was  shedding  a  stream  of 
golden  light. 

Reginald  gazed  upon  the  scene  with  wondei 


62 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


and  dcliglit ;  and  every  moment  while  he  gazed 
called  into  existence  richer  and  more  varied 
beauties.  Tlie  mists  and  exhalations  rising 
from  the  plain  curled  themselves  into  a  thousand 
fantastic  shapes  around  the  points  and  projec- 
lions  of  the  hills,  where  they  seemed  to  hang 
Hkc  mantles  which  the  Earth  had  cast  from 
her  bosom,  as  being  rendered  unnecessary  by 
the  appearance  of  the  day  ;  swarms  of  children 
and  of  dusky  figures  began  to  emerge  from  the 
encampment,  and  troops  of  horses  to  crop  the 
pasture  on  the  distant  iiills,  while  the  splendour 
of  the  sun,  now  risen  in  its  full  glory,  lit  up 
with  a  thousand  varying  hues  the  eastern  ex- 
panse of  boundless  forest.  Reginald's  heart 
was  not  insensible  to  the  impressions  naturally 
excited  by  such  a  scene  ;  and  while  he  admired 
its  variegated  beauties,  his  thoughts  were  raised 
in  adoration  to  that  Almighty  and  beneficent 
Being,  whose  temple  is  the  Earth,  and  whose 
are  the  "  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills." 

Having  made  his  way  again  to  the  hanks  of 
the  stream,  and  found  a  spot  sheltered  by  alder 
and  poplar  trees,  he  bathed  and  made  his  morn- 
ing toilet ;  after  which  he  returned  towards  the 
encampment,  his  body  refreshed  by  his  bath, 
and  his  mind  attuned  to  high  and  inspirino' 
thoughts  by  the  meditation  in  which  he  had 
been  engaged.  As  he  strolled  leisurely  along, 
he  observed  a  spot  where  the  trees  were  larger, 
and  the  shade  apparently  more  dense  than  the 
other  portions  of  the  valley  ;  and,  being  anxious 
to  make  himself  acquainted  with  all  the  locali- 
ties in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  new  home,  he 
followed  a  small  beaten  path,  which,  after  sun- 
dry windings  among  the  alders,  brought  him  to 
an  open  space  screened  on  three  sides  by  the 
bushes,  and  bounded  on  the  fourth  by  the  stream. 
Ileginald  cast  his  eyes  around  this  pleasant  and 
secluded  spot,  until  they  rested  upon  an  object 
that  rivetted  them  irresistibly.  It  was  a  female 
figure  seated  at  the  root  of  an  ancient  poplar, 
over  a  low  branch  of  which  one  arm  was  care- 
lessly thrown,  while  with  the  other  she  held  a 
book,  which  she  was  reading  with  such  fixed 
attention  as  to  be  altogether  unconscious  of 
Reginald's  approach.  Her  complexion  was 
dark,  but  clear  and  delicate,  and  the  rich  brown 
hair  which  fell  over  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
still  damp  and  glossy  from  her  morning  ablu- 
tions, was  parted  on  her  forehead  by  a  wreath 
of  wild  flowers  twined  from  among  those  which 
grew  around  the  spot ;  the  contour  of  her  figure, 
and  her  unstudied  attitude  of  repose,  realized 
the  classic  dreams  of  Nymph  and  Nereid,  while 
her  countenance  wore  an  expression  of  angelic 
loveliness,  such  as  Reginald  had  never  seen  or 
imagined. 

He  gazed— and  gazing  on  those  sweet  fea- 
tures, he  saw  the  red  full  lips  move  uncon- 
sciously, while  they  followed  the  subject  that 
absorbed  her  attention,  and  forgetful  that  he 
was  intruding  on  retirement,  he  waited,  en- 
tranced, until  those  downcast  eyes  should  be 
raised.  At  length  she  looked  up,  and  seeing 
Ihe  figure  of  a  man  within  a  few  paces  of  her, 
Bhe  sprang  to  her  feet  with  the  lightness  of  a 
Btartled  antelope,  and  darting  on  him  a  look  of 
mingled  surprise  and  reproof,  suppressed  the 
exclamation  of  alarm  that  rose  to  her  lips.  Re- 
ginald would  fain  have  addressed  the  lovely  be- 
ing before  him,  he  wov^U  f»i        ve  e»*^    *"**  his 


unintended  intrusion ;  but  the  words  died  upon 
his  lips,  and  it  was  almost  mechanically  that  he 
doffed  his  hunting  cap,  and  stood  silent  and  un- 
covered before  her !  Recovering  from  the  mo- 
mentary confusion,  she  advanced  a  step  towards 
him,  and  with  an  ingenuous  blush  held  out  her 
hand,  saying  in  a  gentle  tone  of  inquiry,  and 
with  the  purest  accent,  "Netis,  my  brother's 
friend  V 

"  The  same,  fair  creature,"  replied  Reginald, 
whose  wonder  and  admiration  were  still  moie 
excited  by  the  untaught  grace  and  dignity  of 
her  manner,  as  well  as  by  hearing  his  own 
tongue  so  sweetly  pronounced;  "but,  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  who — what — whence  can  you 
heV  Blushing  more  deeply  at  the  animation 
and  eagerness  of  his  manner,  she  was  for  a  mo- 
ment silent,  when  he  continued,  striking  his 
hand  on  his  forehead  : — "  Oh,  I  have  it,  fool, 
tortoise,  that  I  was.  You  are  '  Prairie- bird,' 
the  sister  of  whom  Wingenund  has  told  me  so 
much."  Then,  gently  pressing  the  little  hand 
which  he  had  taken,  he  added,  "  Dear  Winge- 
nund !  he  saved  my  life  ;  his  sister  will  not  con- 
sider me  a  stranger  1" 

Again  a  warmer  blush  mantled  on  the  cheek 
of  Prairie-bird,  as  she  replied,  "  You  are  no 
stranger :  you  sneak  of  Wingenund's  good  deed : 
you  are  silent  about  your  own  !  You  drew 
War-Eagle  from  the  deep  and  swift  waters. 
I  have  heard  it  all,  and  have  often  wished  to  see 
you  and  thank  you  myself"  There  was  a  mod- 
est simplicity  in  her  manner  as  she  uttered 
these  few  words  tliat  confirmed  the  impression 
made  on  Reginald  by  the  first  glimpse  of  hei 
lovely  form  and  features  ;  but  beyond  this  there 
was  something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  that 
found  its  way  direct  to  his  heart ;  it  fell  upon 
his  ear  like  an  old  familiar  strain  of  music,  and 
he  felt  unwilling  to  break  the  silence  that  fol- 
lowed its  closing  accents. 

It  is  not  our  province,  in  a  simple  narrative 
of  this  kind,  to  discuss  the  oft-disputed  ques- 
tion, whether  love  at  first  sight  deserves  the 
name  of  love;  whether  it  is  merely  a  passing 
emotion,  which,  though  apparently  strong,  a 
brief  lapse  of  time  may  efface  ;  or,  whether 
there  be  really  secret  irresistible  natural  impul- 
ses, by  vi'hich  two  human  beings,  who  meet  to- 
gether for  the  first  time,  feel  as  if  they  had 
known  and  loved  each  other  for  years,  and  as 
if  the  early  cherished  visions  of  foncy,  the  aspi- 
rations of  hope,  the  creations  of  imagination, 
the  secret,  undefined  longings  of  the  heart,  were 
all  at  once  embodied  and  realized.*  We  are  in- 
clined to  believe  that,  although  not  frequent, 
instances  sometimes  occur  of  this  instinctive 
sympathy  and  attraction,  and  that,  when  they 
do  so,  the  tree  of  affection,  (like  the  fabled 
palm  at  the  touch  of  the  Genius'  wand,)  starts 
into  immediate  luxuriance  of  flower  and  foliage, 
striking  its  tenacious  roots  far  into  the  kindly 
soil,  destined  thenceforward  to  become  the  nur- 
ture of  its  verdant  youth,  the  support  of  its  ma- 
ture strength,  and  at  length  the  resting-place  of 
its  leafless  and  time-stricken  decay. 

Such  seemed  to  be  the  case  with  Reginald 
and  Prairie-bird,  for  as  they  looked  one  at  the 
other,  each  was  unconsciously  occupied  with 
teeming  thoughts  that  neither  could  define  nor 


*  See  Scbiller's  "  Bride  of  Messina ' 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRB. 


63 


express,  and  both  felt  relieved  at  hearing  ap- 
proaching footsteps  and  the  voice  of  the  Blaclc 
Father,  who  called  out  in  English, 

"  Come,  my  child,  I  have  allowed  you  full 
time  this  morning ;  we  will  return  to  the  camp." 
As  he  spoke  his  eye  fell  upon  Reginald,  and  he 
added,  courteously,  "  You  have  been  early 
abroad,  young  sir." 

"  I  have,"  replied  Reginald.  "  I  went  to  the 
top  of  yonder  heights  to  see  the  sunrise,  and 
was  amply  repaid  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene ; 
on  my  return,  I  wandered  accidentally  into  this 
secluded  spot,  and  trust  that  my  intrusion  has 
been  forgiven." 

"  I  believe  that  my  dear  child  and  pupil  would 
forgive  a  greater  offence  than  that,  in  one  who 
has  shown  so  much  kindness  to  her  brothers," 
replied  the  Missionary,  smiling ;  and  he  added, 
in  a  low  voice,  addressing  the  Prairie-bird  in 
his  own  language,  "  Indeed,  my  child,  I  think  he 
deserves  our  friendly  welcome  ;  for,  unless  his 
countenance  strongly  belies  his  character,  it  ex- 
presses all  those  good  qualities  which  Winge- 
nund  taught  us  to  expect." 

"  Stay,  sir,"  said  Reginald,  colouring  highly  ; 
"let  me  not  participate  without  your  knowledge, 
in  your  communications  to  Prairie-bird.  I  have 
travelled  much  in  Germany,  and  the  language 
is  familiar  to  me." 

"  Then,  my  young  friend,"  said  Paul  Miiller, 
taking  his  hand  kindly,  "you  have  only  learned 
from  what  I  said,  how  hard  a  task  you  will  have 
to  fulfil  the  expectations  that  Wingenund  has 
led  us  to  entertain." 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,"  replied  Reginald, 
glancing  towards  the  maiden,  "  but  a  true 
tongue,  a  ready  hand,  and  an  honest  heart ;  if 
these  can  serve  my  friend's  sister,  methinks 
she  may  expect  them  without  being  disappoint- 
ed." 

The  words  in  themselves  were  nothing  re- 
markable, but  there  was  an  earnest  feeling  in 
the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken  that  made 
Prairie-bird's  heart  beat  quicker ;  she  answer- 
ed him  by  a  look,  but  said  nothing.  Wonder- 
ful is  the  expression,  the  magic  eloquence  of 
the  human  eye,  and  yet  how  is  its  power  ten- 
fold increased  when  the  rays  of  its  glance  pass 
through  the  atmosphere  even  of  dawning  love. 
Reginald  longed  to  know  whence  and  who  she 
oould  be,  this  child  of  the  wilderness,  who  had 
so  suddenly,  so  irresistibly,  engaged  his  feel- 
ings; above  all  he  longed  to  learn  whether  her 
heart  and  affections  were  free,  and  that  single 
look,  translated  by  the  sanguine  self-partiality 
of  love,  made  him  internally  exclaim,  "  Her 
heart  is  not  another's  !"  Whether  his  conjec- 
ture proved  correct  the  after  course  of  this  tale 
will  show,  meanwhile  we  cannot  forbear  our 
admiration  at  the  marvellous  rapidity  with 
which  our  hero,  at  his  first  interview  with 
Prairie-bird  settled  this  point  to  his  own  satis- 
faction. The  little  party  now  strolled  towards 
the  camp,  and  as  they  went,  Reginald,  seeing 
that  Prairie-bird  still  held  in  her  hand  the  book 
that  he  had  seen  her  peruse  with  so  much  at- 
tention, said, 

"  May  I  inquire  the  subject  of  your  studies 
this  morning  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied,  with  grave  and 
sweet  simplicity  ;  "  it  is  the  subject  of  my  study 
every  moining ;  the  book  was  giveft  me  by  juy 


dear  father  and  instructor  now  by  my  side.  I 
have  much  to  thank  him  for ;  all  I  know,  all  I 
enjoy,  almost  all  I  feel,  but  most  of  all  for  this 
book,  which  he  has  taught  me  to  love,  and  in 
some  degree  to  understand." 

As  she  spoke  she  placed  in  Reginald's  hand 
a  small  copy  of  Luther's  translation  of  the  Bi- 
ble; in  the  fly-leaf  before  the  title  page  was 
written,  "  Given  to  Prairie-bird  by  her  loving 
father  and  instructor,  Paul  Muller."  Reginald 
read  this  inscription  half  aloud,  repeating  to 
himself  the  words  "Muller,"  "father,"  and 
coupling  them  with  the  strange  enigmas  for- 
merly uttered  by  Wingenund  respecting  the 
origin  of  Prairie-bird,  he  was  lost  in  conjecture 
as  to  their  meaning. 

■  "  I  see  your  difficulty,"  said  the  Missionary  ; 
"you  do  not  understand  how  she  can  call  Win- 
genund and  War-Eagle  brothers,  and  me  fa- 
ther. In  truth,  she  has  from  her  earliest  child- 
hood been  brought  up  by  Tamenund  as  his 
daughter,  and  as  I  reside  chiefly  with  this  Dela- 
ware band,  I  have  made  it  my  constant  occupa- 
tion and  pleasure  to  give  her  such  instruction 
as  my  humble  means  admit ;  she  has  been  en- 
trusted to  us  by  the  mysterious  decrees  of  Pro- 
vidence ;  and  though  the  blood  of  neither  flows 
in  her  veins,  Tamenund  and  I  have,  according 
to  our  respective  offices,  used  our  best  endea 
vours  to  supply  the  place  of  natural  parents.' 

"Dear,  dear  father,"  said  Prairie-bird,  press- 
ing his  hand  to  her  lips,  and  looking  up  in  his 
face  with  tearful  eyes,  "  you  are  and  have  been 
everything  to  me,  instructor,  comforter,  guide, 
and  father !  My  Indian  father,  too,  and  my 
brothers  are  all  kind  and  loving  to  me.  I  have 
read  in  the  books  that  you  have  lent  me  many 
tales  and  histories  of  unkindness  and  hatred 
between  parents  and  children,  among  nations 
enlightened  and  civilized.  I  have  had  every 
wish  gratified  before  expressed,  and  every  com- 
fort provided.  What  could  a  father  do  for  a 
child,  that  you  have  not  done  for  me?" 

As  she  spoke  she  looked  up  in  the  Mission- 
ary's face  with  a  countenance  so  beaming  with 
full  affection,  that  the  old  man  pressed  her  in 
his  arms,  and  kissing  her  forehead,  muttered 
over  her  a  blessing  that  he  was  too  much  moved 
to  pronounce  aloud;  after  a  pause  of  a  few 
minutes,  he  said  to  Reginald,  with  his  usual 
benevolent  smile,  "  We  only  knov/  you  yet  by 
your  Indian  name  of  'Netis' — how  are  you 
called  in  the  States  1  We  inquired  of  War-eagle 
and  Wingenund,  but  they  either  did  not  remem 
'oer,  or  could  not  pronounce  your  namel" 

"  Reginald  Brandon,"  replied  our  hero. 

Prairie-bird  started,  and  abruptly  said,  "Again, 
again  ;  say  it  once  morel" 

Reginald  repeated  it,  and  she  pronounced  the 
first  name  slowly  after  him,  pressing  her  hand 
upon  her  forehead,  and  with  her  eye  fixed  on 
vacancy,  while  broken  exclamations  came  from 
his  lips. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  dear  child  V  said 
the  Missionary,  somewhat  surprised  and  alarmed 
by  her  manner.  ■ 

"  Nothing,  dear  Father,"  she  replied,  with  » 
faint  smile ;  "  it  was  a  dream,  a  strange  drearo 
which  that  name  recalled  and  confused  m? 
head ;  we  are  now  close  to  the  camp,  I  will  ga 
in  and  rest  awhile ;  perhaps  you  may  like  t« 
talk  more  with  N&T-4  mean,"  she  added  hesi  • 


64 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


tating,  "  with  Reginald."  So  saying,  and  salu- 
ting them  Willi  that  natural  grace  which  be- 
longed to  all  her  movements,  she  withdrew 
towards  tiie  camp,  and  Reginald's  eyes  followed 
her  retreating  figure  until  it  was  lost  behind  the 
canvass-folds  that  protected  the  opening  to  her 
tent 


CHAPTER  XX. 

fieginald  holds  a  convcrsaUon  with  tlie  missionary. 

REGtx.vi.n  still  kept  his  eyes  on  the  opening 
through  which  Prairie-bird  had  disappeared  into 
the  tent,  as  though  they  could  have  pierced 
through  the  canvass  that  concealed  from  his 
fiew  its  lovely  inhabitant:  his  feelings  were  in 
a  stale  of  confusion  and  excitement,  altogether 
new  to  him  ;  for  if,  in  his  European  travels,  he 
had  paid  a  passing  tribute  of  admiration  to  the 
beauties  who  had  crossed  his  path,  and  whom 
his  remarkable  personal  advantages  had  ren- 
dered by  no  means  insensible  to  his  homage, 
the  surface  only  of  his  heart  had  been  touched, 
whereas  now  its  deepest  fountains  were  stirred, 
and  the  troubled  waters  gushed  forth  with  over- 
whelming force. 

lie  was  recalled  to  himself  by  the  voice  of 
the  missionary,  who,  without  appearing  to  no- 
tice his  abstraction,  said,  "  My  son,  if  you  choose 
that  we  should  prolong  our  walk,  I  am  ready 
to  accompany  you."  If  the  truth  must  be  told, 
Reginald  could  at  that  moment  scarcely  endure 
the  presence  of  any  human  being:  he  felt  an 
impulse  to  rush  into  the  woods,  or  over  the 
plain,  and  to  pour  forth  in  solitude  the  torrent 
of  feelings  by  which  he  was  oppressed ;  but  he 
controlled  himself,  not  only  because  he  really 
felt  a  respect  for  the  good  missionary,  but  also 
because  he  hoped  through  him  to  obtain  some 
information  respecting  the  e.xtraordinary  being 
who  had  taken  such  sudden  possession  of  his 
thoughts ;  he  replied,  therefore,  that  he  would 
willingly  accompany  him,  and  they  took  their 
way  together  along  the  banks  of  the  streamlet, 
«lternately  observing  on  the  scenery  and  sur- 
sounding  objects. 

This  desultory  conversation  did  not  long  suit 
the  eager  and  straightforward  character  of  Re- 
ginald Brandon  ;  and  he  changed  it  by  abruptly 
inquiring  of  his  companion,  whether  he  knew 
anything  of  the  history  and  parentage  of  Prairie- 
bird. 

'  "Not  much,"  replied  Paul  Miiller,  smiling; 
"she  was  with  this  band  of  Delawares  wherTl 
first  came  to  reside  among  them ;  if  any  one 
knows  her  history  it  must  he  Tamenund ;  but 
he  keeps  it  a  profound  secret,  and  gives  out 
among  the  tribe  that  she  was  sent  to  him  by 
the  Great  Spirit,  and  that  as  long  as  she  re- 
mains with  the  band  they  will  be  successful  in 
hunting  and  in  war." 

"  But  how,"  inquired  Reginald,  "  can  he  make 
such  a  tale  pass  current  among  a  people  who 
are  well  known  to  consider  the  female  sex  in 
BO  inferior  and  degraded  a  light?" 

"  He  has  effected  it,"  replied  the  missionary, 
"partly  by  accident,  partly  by  her  extraordinary 
beauty  and  endowments,  and  partly,  I  must  own, 
by  my  assistance,  which  I  have  given  because 
I  thereby  ensured  to  her  the  kindest  and  most 


respectful  treatment,  and  also  endeavoured, 
under  God's  blessing,  to  make  her  instrumental 
in  sowing  the  seed  of  His  truth  among  these 
benighted  savages." 

"  Let  me  understand  this  more  in  detail,"  said 
Reginald,  "  if  the  narration  does  not  trouble 
you." 

"  Her  first  appearance  among  the  Delawares, 
as  they  have  told  me,"  said  the  missionary,  was 
as  follows  : — "  Their  prophet,  or  great  medicine 
man,  dreamed  that  under  a  certam  tree  was  de- 
posited a  treasure  that  should  enrich  the  tril« 
and  render  them  fortunate  :  a  parly  was  seni 
by  order  of  the  chief  to  search  the  spot  indica- 
ted, and  on  their  arrival  they  found  a  female 
child  wrapped  in  a  covering  of  beaver  skin,  and 
reposing  on  a  couch  of  Turkey  of  feathers ; 
these  creatures  being  supposed  to  preside  pecu- 
liarly over  the  fate  of  the  Delawares,  they 
brought  back  the  child  with  great  ceremony  to 
the  village,  where  they  placed  her  under  the 
care  of  the  chief;  set  apart  a  tent  or  lodge  for 
her  own  peculiar  use,  and  ever  since  that  time 
have  continued  to  take  every  care  of  her  com- 
fort and  safety." 

"  I  suppose,"  interrupted  Reginald,  "  the 
dream  of  the  great  medicine,  and  all  its  accom- 
paniments, were  secretly  arranged  between  him 
and  the  chief!" 

"  Probably  they  were,"  replied  Paul ;  "  but 
you  must  beware  how  you  say  as  much  to  any 
Delaware  ;  if  you  did  not  risk  your  life,  you 
would  give  mortal  offence.  After  all,  an  impo- 
sition that  has  resulted  in  harm  to  no  one,  asd 
in  so  much  good  to  an  interesting  and  unpio- 
tccled  creature,  may  be  forgiven." 

"  Indeed  I  will  not  gainsay  it,"  replied  oui 
hero  ;  "  pray  continue  your  narrative." 

"  My  sacred  office,  and  the  kindly  feeling 
entertained  towards  me  by  these  Indians,  gave 
me  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  and  con- 
versing with  Olilipa,  or  the  '  Prairie-bird  ;'  and 
I  found  in  her  such  an  amiable  disposition,  and 
so  quick  an  apprehension,  that  I  gave  my  best 
attention  to  the  cultivation  of  talents,  which 
might,  I  hoped,  some  day  produce  a  harvest  of 
usefulness.  In  reading,  writing,  and  in  music, 
she  needed  but  little  instruction ;  I  furnished 
her  from  time  to  time  with  books,  and  paper, 
and  pencils  ;  an  old  Spanish  guitar,  probably 
taken  from  some  of  the  dwellings  of  that  people 
in  Missouri,  enabled  her  to  practise  simple 
melodies,  and  you  would  be  surprised  at  the 
sweetness  with  which  she  now  sings  words, 
strung  together  by  herself  in  English  and  Ger- 
man, and  also  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  adapting 
them  to  wild  airs,  either  such  as  she  hears 
among  the  Indians,  or  invents  herself;  I  took 
especial  pains  to  instruct  her  in  the  practical 
elements  of  a  science  that  my  long  residence 
among  the  different  tribes  has  rendered  neces- 
sary and  familiar  to  me, — I  mean  that  of  medi- 
cine, as  connected  with  the  rude  botany  of  the 
woods  and  prairies  ;  and  so  well  has  she  profit- 
ed by  my  instruction,  and  by  her  own  perseve 
ring  researches,  that  there  is  scarcely  a  tree,  a- 
gum,  or  herb  possessing  any  sanatory  properties 
which  she  does  not  know  and  apply  to  he  re- 
lief of  those  around  her. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Reginald,  laughing ;  "  I  had 
not  expected  to  find  this  last  among  the  accooi- 
plishments  of  Prairie-bird.'- 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


65 


"  You  were  mistaken  then,"  replied  Paul 
Miiller  ;  "  nay,  more  ;  I  fear  that,  in  your  esti- 
nate  of  what  are  usually  termed  female  accom- 
_)lishments,  you  have  been  accustomed  to  lay 
too  much  stress  on  those  which  are  light  or  tri- 
fling, and  too  little  on  those  which  are  useful 
and  properly  feminine  ;  even  in  settled  and  civ- 
ilized countries  the  most  grievous  fevers  and 
ailments  to  which  we  are  subject,  require  the 
ministration  of  a  female  nurse  ;  can  it  be  then 
unreasonable  that  we  should  endeavour  to  min- 
gle, in  their  education,  some  knowledge  of  the 
remedies  which  they  may  be  called  upon  to  ad- 
minister, and  of  the  bodily  ills  which  it  is  to  be 
their  province  to  alleviate  1" 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  Reginald,  mod- 
estly ;  "  and  I  entreat  your  pardon  for  the  hasty 
levity  with  which  I  spoke  on  the  subject.  I  am 
well  aware  that,  in  olden  times,  no  young  wom- 
an's education  was  held  to  be  complete  without 
some  knowledge  both  of  the  culinary  and  heal- 
ing arts ;  and  I  much  doubt  whether  society 
has  not  suffered  from  their  having  altogether 
abandoned  the  cultivation  of  these  in  favour  of 
singing,  dancing,  and  reading  of  the  lightest 
kind." 

"  it  is  the  character  of  the  artificial  state  to 
which  society  is  fast  verging,"  replied  Paul ; 
"  to  prefer  accomplishments  to  qualities,  orna- 
ment to  usefulness,  luxury  to  comfort,  tinsel  to 
gold  ;  setting  aside  the  consideration  of  a  future 
state,  this  system  might  be  well  enough,  if  the 
drawing-room,  the  theatre,  and  the  ball,  were 
the  sum  of  human  life  ;  but  it  is  ill  calculated  to 
render  man  dignified  in  his  character,  and  use- 
ful to  his  fellow-creatures,  or  woman  what  she 
Gugk  t  to  be, — the  comfort,  the  solace,  the  orna- 
ment of  home." 

"  These  observations  may  be  true  as  regards 
England  or  France,"  replied  Reginald:  "but 
vou  surely  would  not  apply  them  to  our  coun- 
try!" 

•'To  a  certain  extent,  I  do,"  answered  the 
missionary.  "  I  have  been  now  thirty  years  on 
this  continent,  and  have  observed  that,  as  colo- 
nists, the  Americans  have  been  very  faithful 
imitators  of  these  defects  in  their  mother  coun- 
try ;  I  am  not  sure  that  they  will  be  rendered 
less  so  by  their  political  emancipation." 

The  conversation  was  now  straying  rather 
too  far  from  the  subject  to  which  Reginald  de- 
sired to  confine  it ;  waving,  therefore,  all  reply 
JO  the  missionary's  last  observation,  he  said, 
•'  If  I  understood  you  aright,  there  were,  beyond 
^hese  studies  and  accomplishments  of  Prairie- 
bird,  some  other  means  employed  by  you,  to 
give  and  preserve  to  her  the  extraordinary  in- 
fluence which  you  say  that  she  possesses  over 
the  Indians." 

"  There  were,"  replied  Paul  Miiller  :  "  among 
others,  I  enabled  her  to  vaccinate  most  of  the 
children  in  this  band,  by  which  means  they  es- 
caped the  fatal  effects  of  a  disorder,  that  has 
<5ommitted  dreadful  ravages  among  the  sur- 
lounding  tribes ;  and  I  have  instructed  her  in 
eome  of  the  elementary  calculations  of  astrono- 
my ;  owing  to  which  they  look  upon  her  as  a 
superior  being,  commissioned  by  the  Great 
Spirit  to  live  among  them,  and  to  do  them  good  ; 
thus  her  person  is  safe,  and  her  tent  as  sacred 
froci  intrusion  as  the  great  medicine  lodge  ;  I 
3KE  allowed  to  occupy  a  compartment  in  it, 


where  I  keep  our  little  stores  of  books  and 
medicines,  and  she  goes  about  the  camp  on 
her  errands  of  benevolence,  followed  by  the 
attachment  and  veneration  of  all  cla.sses  and 
ages  !" 

''Happy  existence  1"  exclaimed  Reginald; 
"and  yet,"  he  added,  musing;  "she  cannot, 
surely,  be  doomed  through  life  to  waste  such 
sweetness  on  an  air  so  desert  I" 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  missionary. 
"  God's  purposes  are  mysterious,  and  the  in- 
struments that  he  chooses  for  effecting  them, 
various  as  the  flowers  on  the  prairie.  Many  an 
Indian  warrior  has  that  sweet  child  turned  from 
the  path  of  blood,  more  than  one  uplifted  toma- 
hawk has  fallen  harmless  at  the  voice  of  her  en- 
treaty ;  nay,  I  have  reason  to  hope  that  in  Win- 
genund,  and  in  several  others  of  the  tribe,  she 
has  partially  uprooted  the  weeds  of  hatred  and 
revenge,  and  sown,  in  their  stead,  the  seeds  of 
Gospel  truth.  Surely,  Reginald  Brandon,  you 
would  not  call  such  an  existence  wasted  1" 

"That  would  I  not,  indeed,"  rephed  the 
young  man,  with  emphasis  ;  "  it  is  an  angel's  of- 
fice !"  he  added,  inaudibly,  "  and  it  is  performed 
by  an  angel !" 

Although  he  could  have  talked,  or  listened,  or 
the  subject  of  the  Prairie-bird  for  hours  togeth- 
er, Reginald  began  already  to  feel  that  sensitive 
reserve  respecting  the  mention  of  her  name 
to  another  which  always  accompanies  even  the 
earliest  dawnings  of  love ;  and  he  turned  the 
conversation  by  inquiring  of  the  venerable  mis- 
sionary, whether  he  would  kindly  communicate 
something  of  his  own  history  ;  and  explain  how 
he  had  come  from  so  remote  a  distance  to  pass 
the  evening  of  life  among  the  Indians. 

"  The  tale  is  very  brief,  and  the  motives  very 
simple.  I  was  born  in  Germany,  and  having 
early  embraced  the  tenets  of  the  United  Breth- 
ren, of  whom  you  have  probably  heard  in  that 
country  under  the  name  of  '  Herrn-huter,'  I  re- 
ceived a  pressing  invitation  from  Heckewalder, 
then  in  England,  to  join  him  in  his  projected 
missionary  journey  to  North  America.  I  gladly 
accepted  the  offer,  and  after  a  short  stay  in 
London,  embarked  with  that  learned  and  amia- 
ble man, — who  soon  became  what  he  now  is,— 
the  nearest  and  dearest  friend  I  have  on  earth, 
— and  I  placed  myself  under  his  guidance  in  the 
prosecution  of  the  grand  objects  of  our  under- 
taking, which  were  these: — to  endeavour  to 
convert  the  Indian  nations  to  Christianity,  not 
as  the  Spaniards  had  pretended  to  attempt,  by 
fire,  and  sword,  and  violence,  but  by  going  un- 
armed and  peaceably  among  them,  studying 
their  languages,  characters,  and  history ;  and 
while  showing  in  our  own  persons  an  example 
of  piety  and  self-denial,  to  eradicate  patiently 
the  more  noxious  plants  from  their  moral  con- 
stitution, and  to  mould  such  as  were  good  and 
wholesome  to  the  purposes  of  religious  truth. 
God  be  praised,  our  labours  have  not  been  alto- 
gether without  effect ;  but  1  blush  for  my  white 
brethren  when  I  confess  that  the  greatest  ob- 
stacle to  our  success  has  been  found  in  the  vi- 
ces, the  open  profligacy,  the  violence,  and  the 
cruelty  of  those  who  have  called  themselves 
Christians.  Heckewalder  has  confined  his  ex- 
ertions chiefly  to  the  Indians  remaining  in  Penn- 
sylvania and  the  Western  territory,  mine  have 
been  mostly  employed  among  the  wandering 


66 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


and.wi'der  tribes  who  inhabit  this  remote  and 
boundless  region." 

"  I  have  olten  heard  your  pious  friend's 
name,"  said  Reginald  ;  "  he  enjoys  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  the  most  eminent  Indian  linguist 
In  our  country,  and  he  is  supposed  to  iinow  the 
Delaware  language  as  well  as  his  own." 

"  He  is  indeed,"  said  Paul,  "  the  most  skilful 
and  successful  labourer  in  this  rude,  but  not  un- 
fruitful vineyard ;  now  and  then,  at  remote  in- 
tervals, I  contrive,  by  means  of  some  returning 
hunter  or  Indian  agent,  to  communicate  with 
hiui,  and  his  letters  always  afford  me  matter  of 
consolation  and  encouragement ;  though  I  was 
much  cast  down  when  he  announced  to  me  the 
cruel  and  wanton  massacre  of  his  Indian  flock 
near  the  banks  of  the  Ohio." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  replied  Reginald ;  "  I 
regret  to  say  that  the  outrage  was  committed 
not  very  far  from  the  spot  where  my  father 
lives." 

*'  Do  you  live  in  that  neighbourhood !"  ex- 
claimed the  missionary,  suddenly  catching  his 
arm  ;  "  then  you  may,  perhaps — but  no,  it  can- 
not be,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  This  youth 
can  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  My  honoured  friend,"  replied  Reginald,  co- 
louring at  the  idea  suggested  by  the  words  which 
he  had  overheard.  "  I  trust  you  do  not  believe 
that  my  father  or  any  of  my  kindred  had  a  share 
in  those  atrocities !" 

"  You  misunderstood  'me  altogether,  I  assure 
you,"  answered  the  missionary  ;  "my  exclama- 
tion had  reference  to  another  subject.  But  I 
see  War-Eagle  coming  this  way ;  probably  he 
is  bent  upon  some  hunting  excursion  in  which 
you  may  wish  to  be  his  companion." 

"  I  shall  gladly  do  so,"  replied  Reginald,  "  as 
soon  as  I  have  breakfasted  ;  my  faithful  follow- 
er, Perrot,  desired  very  much  that  I  should  taste 
some  collops  of  venison,  which  he  said  that  he 
could  dress  in  a  style  somewhat  superior  to  that 
of  the  Indian  cookery.  Will  you  share  them 
with  meV 

The  missionary  excused  himself,  as  he  had 
already  taken  his  morning  meal,  and  was  about 
to  return  to  the  tent  of  Prairie-bird. 

Reginald  assured  the  good  man  of  the  pleas- 
ure which  he  had  found  in  his  conversation,  and 
expressed  a  hope  that  he  would  be  enabled  soon 
to  enjoy  it  again,  as  there  was  much  informa- 
tion respecting  the  habits,  religion,  and  charac- 
ter of  the  different  Indian  tribes  which  he  felt 
anxious  to  acquire,  and  which  none  could  be 
better  able  to  communicate. 

"  Whatever  instruction  or  information  I  may 
have  collected  during  my  residence  among  them, 
is  freely  at  your  service,"  replied  Paul  Miiller ; 
"  and  if  you  find  yourself  in  any  difficulty  or  em- 
barrassment where  my  advice  can  be  of  use,  you 
may  always  command  it.  You  know,"  he  add- 
ed, smiling,  "  they  consider  me  great  medicine, 
and  thus  I  am  able  to  say  and  do  many  things 
among  them  which  would  not  be  permitted  in 
another  white  man."  So  saying,  he  shook  hands 
with  Reginald,  and  returned  slowly  towards  the 
encampment. 

War-Eagle  now  came  up,  and  greeting  his 
friend  with  his  usual  cordiality,  inquired  whether 
he  would  accompany  him  in  the  chase  of  the  elk, 
herds  of  which  had  been  seen  at  no  great  dis- 
tance.    Reginald  acceded  to  the  proposal,  and, 


having  hastily  despatched  the  collops  prepared 
by  Perrot,  the  two  friends  left  the  village  on 
foot,  and  took  their  way  towards  the  timber  in 
the  valley. 

The  day  was  hot,  and  the  speed  at  which  the 
agile  Indian  unconsciously  strode  along,  would 
have  soon  discomfited  a  less  active  pedestrian 
than  Reginald  ;  but  having  been  well  seasoned 
in  his  hunting  excursions  with  Baptistc,  he  found 
no  difficulty  in  keeping  pace  with  his  friend,  and 
amused  himself  as  they  went,  by  askmg  him  a 
variety  of  questions  respecting  the  country,  the 
tribe,  and  its  language,  to  all  of  which  War- 
Eagle  replied  with  much  intelligence  and  can- 
dour. 

As  Reginald  had  not  seen  Wingenund,  he 
asked  his  companion  how  it  happened  that  the 
youth  did  not  accompany  them.  "  He  is  gone," 
replied  War-Eagle,  "  to  bring  turkeys  to  the 
camp." 

"  Does  be  shoot  them  T'  inquired  Reginald. 

"  No,  he  takes  them — my  white  brother  shall 
see  ;  it  is  not  far  from  the  Elk  Path." 

When  they  reached  the  wooded  bottom,  War- 
Eagle  struck  into  a  small  track  which  seemed 
to  have  been  made  by  a  streamlet  in  spring,  and, 
having  followed  it  for  about  a  mile,  they  came 
to  a  more  open  woodland  scene,  where  the  In- 
dian pointed,  as  they  passed  along,  to  scattered 
feathers  and  foot- tracks  of  turkeys  in  abundance. 
They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  he  uttered  a 
low  exclamation  of  surprise  as  he  discovered 
Wingenund  stretched  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  with 
his  eyes  busily  fixed  upon  something  which  he 
held  in  his  hand,  and  which  so  riveted  his  at- 
tention that  he  was  not  aware  of  thei>^ approach. 
Beside  him  lay  two  old  and  two  young  turkeys 
which  he  had  caught  and  killed  ;  the  friends  had 
not  looked  at  him  many  seconds,  before  he  raised 
his  eyes  and  perceived  them  ;  starting  to  his  feet 
he  made  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  concea!  that 
which  he  had  been  holding  in  his  hand,  whir -fa 
was,  in  fact,  a  sheet  of  coarse  white  paper. 
Reginald  drew  near  and  said  to  him,  "Come, 
Wingenund,  you  must  show  Netis  what  you  hold 
in  your  hand  ;  I  am  sure  it  is  no  harm,  and  if  it 
is  a  secret,  I  will  keep  it." 

Wingenund,  in  some  confusion,  handed  the 
scroll  to  Reginald,  who  saw  at  the  first  glance 
that  it  was  a  fragment  of  an  elementary  vocabu- 
lary of  Delaware  and  English  words,  written  in 
a  free,  hold  character ;  he  ran  his  eye  over  the 
paper  .t^hich  contained  chiefly  phrases  of  the 
most  simple  kind,  such  as  ''N'menne,  I  drink," 
"  IS'ani  pa  wi,  I  stand,"  "  Tokclan,  it  rains," 
"  Loo,  true,"  "  Yuni,  this,"  "  Na-ni,  that,"  &.C., 
&c. ;  and  a  smile  came  over  his  features  when 
his  eye  met  his  own  name,  *'  Netis,"  with  its 
translation.  "  dear  friend."  Below  this  he  read, 
"  N'quti,"  Nisha.  Nacha,  Newo,  and  a  succes- 
sion of  single  words,  which  he  rightly  conjec- 
tured to  be  numerals,  1,  2,  3,  4,  Sec,  and  at  th» 
bottom  of  the  page  was  a  long  sentence  in  tha 
Lenape  tongue,  which  began  as  follows :  "  Ki 
tcetochcmelenk  talH  epian  awassagame,  &.C." — 
'  What  is  this  last  sentence,  Wingenund  \"  jo- 
•  juired  Reginald. 

"  It  is  the  prayer,"  replied  the  youth,  "  tha* 
the  Good  Spirit  taught  the  white  men  to  say, 
when  he  came  to  live  among  them." 

"  And  who  wrote  all  these  words  for  you  1"  » 

"  Prairie-bird  wrote  them,  and  every  day  she 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


67 


teaches  me  to  undeist^nd  the  maiks  on  the 
paper." 

Reginald's  eyes  strayed  unconsciously  to  that 
part  of  the  sheet  where  he  had  seen  his  own 
name  v/ritten  by  the  Prairie-bird's  hand.  "  Hap- 
py boy !"  he  mentally  ejaculated,  "to  sit  at  her 
foct  and  draw  instruction  from  her  lips  !  With 
such  a  teacher,  methinks  I  could  learn  the 
licnape  tongue  in  a  month  I — What  says  my 
brother  1"  he  continued,  aloud,  addressing  War- 
Eagle,  whose  fine  countenance  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  indifference,  almost  amounting  to  con- 
tempt— "What  says  my  brother  of  this  paper  1" 

"  It  is  perhaps  good,"  replied  the  Indian,  grave- 
ly ;  "  for  the  black  father,  and  for  the  white  man 
— but  not  for  the  Lenape.  The  Great  Spii-it  has 
given  him  a  heart  to  feel,  and  a  hand  to  fight, 
and  eyes  to  see  the  smallest  track  on  the  grass 
— that  is  enough.  Our  fathers  knew  no  more, 
and  they  were  great,  and  strong,  and  brave ! 
Chiefs  among  the  nations  !  Wliat  are  we  now 
-^few,  and  weak,  and  wandering ;  it  is  better 
for  us  to  live  and  die  like  them,  arid  we  shall 
hunt  with  rhem  in  the  happy  fields.  Let  us  go 
5»nd  show  Netis  where  Wingenund  takes  the 
t'jfkevs."  So  saying,  he  turned  and  led  the 
way,  followed  by  his  two  companions. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

tn  WTival  at  Mooshanne. — A  calm  ashore  after  a  storm 
at  sea.  i 

While  the  events,  narrated  in  the  preceding 
-liapter,  were  occurring  in  the  Western  wilder- 
aess,  the  family  at  Mooshanne  had  been  thrown 
into  a  state  of  the  greatest  dismay  and  confu- 
sion, by  the  arrival  of  Captain  L'Estrange's 
first  letter,  announcing  the  flight  of  Ethelston 
with  his  daughter,  and  depicting  his  conduct  in 
the  blackest  colours.  Colonel  Brandon  had  pe- 
rused its  contents  half  a  dozen  times,  and  they 
had  produced  traces  of  anxiety  upon  his  coun- 
tenance, too  evident  to  escape  the  observation 
of  Lucy,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  break  to  her 
by  degrees  the  painful  intelligence  of  her  lover's 
infidelity  ;  with  a  calmness  that  surprised  him, 
she  insisted  on  reading  the  letter ;  as  she  pro- 
ceeded her  brow  crimsoned  with  indignation, 
and  those  blue  eyes,  usually  beaming  with  the 
gentlest  expression,  flushed  with  an  angry  lus- 
tre. 

Colonel  Brandon  knew  full  well  the  affection 
she  had  long  conceived  for  Ethelston,  and  though 
his  own  feelings  were  deeply  wounded  by  the 
misconduct  of  one  whom  he  had  loved  and 
trusted  as  a  son,  they  were,  at  present,  over- 
powered by  the  iears  which  he  entertained  of 
the  effect  which  this  unexpected  blow  might 
produce  on  Lucy's  health  and  happiness.  He 
was,  therefore,  relieved  by  observing  the  an- 
ger expressed  on  her  countenance,  and  prepar- 
ed himself  to  hear  the  deserved  reproaches  on 
ner  former  lover,  which  seemed  ready  to  burst 
from  her  tongue.  What  was  his  surprise 
when  he  saw  her  tear  the  letter  in  pieces  before 
his  face,  and  heard  her,  while  she  set  her  pretty 
little  foot  upon  them,  exclaim, 

"  Dear,  dear  father,  how  could  you  for  a  mo- 
isisnt  believe  such  a  tale  of  vile,  atrocious  false- 
hood?" 


I  However  disinclined  the  Colonel  might  be  to 
believe  anything  to  the  disadvantage  of  Ethel- 
ston, there  was  so  much  circumstantial  evideijce 
to  condemn  him,  that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  pre- 
pare his  child  for  the  worst  at  once,  and  to 
point  out  to  her  how  they  already  knew  that 
Ethelston  had  been  wounded  and  conveyed  to 
the  house  of  L'Estrange,  that  his  long  absence 
was  unexplained,  and  lastly  that  the  character 
of  the  French  Commodore,  as  an  officer  and  a 
man  of  honour,  was  unimpeached. 

Lucy  heard  him  to  the  end,  the  glow  on  her 
cheek  assumed  a  warmer  hue  and  the  little  foot 
beat  with  a  nervous  and  scarcely  perceptible 
motion  on  the  floor,  as  she  replied,  "  Father,  I 
will  believe  that  the  letter  is  a  forgery,  or  that 
the  French  officer,  or  Commodore,  or  Admiral, 
is  a  madman,  but  never  that  Ethelston  is  a  vil- 
lain." 

"  My  dear  Lucy,"  said  the  Colonel ;  "  I  am 
almost  as  unwilling  to  think  ill  of  Ethelston  as 
you  can  be  yourself;  but,  alas !  I  have  seen 
more  than  you  of  the  inconstancy  of  men  ;  and 
I  know,  too  well,  that  many  who  have  enjoyed 
a  good  reputation,  have  yet  been  found  unable 
to  withstand  temptation,  such  as  may  have  be- 
set Ethelston  while  an  inmate  of  the  same  house 
with  the  Creole  beauty — " 

"  Dear  Father,"  answered  Lucy,  colouring  yet 
more  deeply  ;  though  it  were  possible  that  Ethel- 
ston, in  the  presence  of  greater  attractions,  may 
have  yielded  to  them  his  affections  and  with- 
drawn them  from  one  who  had  hoped  to  possess 
and  treasure  them  for  life,  though  this  may  be 
possible,  it  is  not  possible  that  he  should  be 
guilty  of  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  hospitality 
and  honour,  such  as  that  slanderous  paper  lays 
to  his  charge  ;  promise  me,  dearest  father,  tp 
suspend  your  belief,  and  never  to  speak  on  this 
subject  again,  until  it  is  God's  pleasure  that  the 
truth  shall  be  brought  to  light." 

"  I  promise  you,  my  sweet  child,"  said  her 
father ;  "  and  may  that  Merciful  Being  grant 
that  your  trust  be  not  disappointed." 

"  I  have  no  fears,"  said  Lucy,  and  as  she 
spoke  her  eyes  beamed  with  that  full  undoubt- 
ing  love,  such  as  can  only  be  felt  by  one  who 
has  never  known  what  it  is  to  deceive  or  to  be 
deceived. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  on  without  any  intel- 
ligence of  Ethelston ;  and  while  the  fears  of 
Colonel  Brandon  become  more  confirmed,  the 
agony  of  suspense,  and  the  sickness  of  deferred 
hope  began  to  prey  upon  the  spirits  of  his 
daughter ;  she  never  alluded  to  the  forbidden 
subject,  but  her  nervous  anxiety,  when  the  week- 
ly letter-bag  was  opened,  clearly  showed  that 
it  was  ever  in  her  mind  ;  nevertheless  she  con- 
tinued her  occasional  excursions  to  Marietta, 
and  visited,  as  usual,  those  around  Mooshanne 
who  were  sick  or  in  distress,  so  that  neither  her 
mother,  nor  aunt  Mary,  detected  the  anxiety  by 
which  she  was  tortured.  One  evening,  half  an 
hour  before  sunset,  as  the  family  party  were 
seated  at  their  simple  supper,  the  clatter  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  was  heard  approaching  at  full 
speed,  from  which  the  rider  dismounted,  and 
lifting  the  latch  of  the  unlocked  door,  entered 
the  house.  Traversing  the  vestibule  with  has- 
ty strides,  and  apparently  guided  by  instinct  to 
the  apartment,  in  which  the  family  were  assem- 
bled, he  threw  open  the  dcor,  and  Ethelston  stood 


68 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD 


Dcfoio  the  astonished  party.  His  countenance 
was  haggard  from  fatigue  and  exposure  to  the 
sun,  and  his  whole  appearance  indicated  exhaus- 
ion.  Lucy  turned  deadly  pale,  and  Colonel 
Brandon's  constrained  manner,  as  he  rose  from 
liis  chair,  must  have  convinced  the  new  comer 
that  his  return  was  productive  of  other  feelings 
than  those  of  unmingled  pleasure.  He  was 
moving,  however,  a  few  steps  forward  to  pay 
his  first  respects  to  Mrs.  Brandon,  when  the 
Colonel,  touching  him  lightly  on  the  arm,  said, 
"  Mr.  E:helston,  I  must  crave  a  few  words  with 
you  in  the  adjoining  room." 

Hitherto  Lucy  had  remained  silent,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  intently  on  Ethelston's  countenance, 
he  returned  her  look  with  one  as  long  and  fix- 
ed, the  expression  of  his  eyes  was  mournful, 
rather  than  joyous,  but  there  was  no  trace  of 
uneasiness  or  of  shame.  Springing  from  her 
seat,  she  placed  her  hand  imploringly  on  the 
Colonel's  arm,  saying, 

"  Dear  father,  I  told  you  so  from  the  first — 
I  knew  it  always-— I  read  it  now  plain  as  the 
sun  in  heaven — that  vile  letter  was  a  string  of 
falsehoods — ^he  is  returned  as  he  le^'t  us,  with  an 
untarnished  honour." 

"Thank you,  dear  Lucy,"  said  Ethelston,  ad- 
vancing and  pressing  her  extended  hands  to  his 
lips  ;  "  blessings  on  that  trusting  affection  which 
has  rendered  it  impossible  for  you  to  believe 
ought  to  the  prejudice  of  one  on  whom  you  have 
deigred  to  fix  it.  Colonel  Brandon,"  he  con- 
tinued "  I  can  guess  how  you  have  been  misled, 
and  api^earances  were,  for  a  sliort  time,  so  muci 
against  me,  that  I  acquit,  of  all  intentional  ma- 
ice,  those  who  have  misled  you  !  Judge  for 
yourself  whether,  if  I  were  stained  hy  the  crime 
of  which  I  have  been  accused,  I  could  now  asl , 
on  my  bended  knee,  for  the  blessing  of  you,  my 
second  father,  and  thus  hold  in  mine,  as  I  daie 
to  do,  the  hand  of  your  pure,  trusting,  and  belov- 
ed child." 

There  was  a  truth  in  every  tone  of  his  voice, 
and  a  convincing  dignity  in  his  man..er  that 
swept  away  all  doubts  like  a  torrent :  the  Colo- 
nel embraced  him  with  cordial  gffection  :  Aunt 
Mary  kissed  her  favourite  nephew  over  and  uver 
again,  Mrs.  Brandon  wept  tears  of  joy  on  his 
neck,  and  Lucy  was  so  overpowered  witii  de- 
light, that  she  was  perhaps  scarcely  conscious 
of  all  that  passed  around. 

After  they  were  in  some  degree  recovered 
from  their  emotion,  and  had  pressed  Ethelston 
to  take  some  refreshment ;  he  said  to  the  Colo- 
nel, "  Now  I  am  prepared  to  give  you  an  account 
of  my  adventures,  and  to  explain  those  circum- 
stances that  led  to  the  misunderstanding  under 
which  you  have  so  long  laboured."  ^ 

"  Not  a  word — not  a  word  will  I  hear  of  ex- 
planation, to-night,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  the 
Colonel.  "  I  am  already  ashamed  that  I  have 
not  shown  the  same  undoul)ting  confidence  in 
your  rectitude  both  of  purpose  and  conduct,  that 
has  been  evinced  from  first  to  last  by  Lucy. 
Vou  are  weary  and  exhausted,  the  agitation  of 
this  scene  has  been  trying  to  all  of  us  ;  we  R-iil 
defer  your  narrative  until  to-morrow.  Our  first 
duty  this  evening,  is  to  return  our  thanks  to 
Providence  for  having  protected  you  through  all 
danger,  and  restored  you  safe  to  the  comforts  of 
home." 
As  he  spoKe,  the  worthy  old  gentleman  took 


down  a  bible  from  the  shelf,  and,  having  desired 
Lucy  to  summon  all  the  servants  into  the  room, 
he  read  an  appropriate  chapter,  and  added  to 
the  selected  prayer  for  the  evening,  a  few  im- 
pressive and  affecting  words  of  thanksgiving 
for  the  safe  return  of  the  long  lost  member  ol 
the  family. 

This  duty  wae  scarcely  concluded,  when  the 
outer  door  was  violently  opened  ;  a  heavy  step 
was  heard  approaching,  and,  without  waiting  U 
be  admitted  or  announced,  the  sturdy  fij^ure  of 
Gregson  entered  the  room. 

'"The  captain  himself,  as  I  live,"  said  the 
honest  mate.  "Beg  pardon.  Colonel  Brandon, 
but  I  heard  a  report  of  his  having  been  seen 
going  ten  knots  an  hour  through  Marietta.  So 
I  up  sticks,  made  sail,  and  was  in  his  wake  in 
less  time  tlian  our  nigger  cook  takes  to  toss  off 
a  glass  of  grog." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Gregson,"  said  Ethel- 
ston, kindly  ;  "  there  is  not  a  truer,  or  an  hon- 
ester  one  between  Marietta  and  China." 

"  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  Captain,"  said  the 
mate,  giving  him  a  squeeze  that  would  have 
broken  the  knuckles  of  any  hand  but  a  sailor's  ; 
"  the  flipper's  well  enough  in  its  way,  and  I  trust 
the  heart's  somewhere  about  the  right  place 
but  what  the  devil  have  they  been  at  with  you 
in  Guadaloupe,"  he  added,  observing  his  chiefs 
wearied  and  wasted  appearance;  "  corisidering 
how  long  those  rascally  Frenchmen  have  had 
you  in  dock,  they've  sent  you  to  sea  in  a  pre- 
cious state,  both  as  to  hull  and  rigging." 

"  I  confess  I  am  not  over  ship-shape,"  said 
Ethelston,  laughing,  "  but  my  present  condition 
is  more  owing  to  the  fatigues  of  my  tedious 
journey  from  New  Orleans,  than  to  any  neglect 
on  the  part  of  the  Frenchmen." 

The  Colonel  now  invited  the  worthy  mate  to 
be  seated,  and  Lucy  brewed  for  him,  with  hei 
own  fair  fingers,  a  large  tumbler  of  toddy,  inta 
which,  by  her  father's  desire,  she  poured  an 
extra  glass  of  rum.  Ethelston,  pretending  to 
be  jealous  of  this  favour,  msisted  on  hi&  right 
to  a  draught,  containing  less  potent  ingredients, 
but  administered  by  the  same  hand,  and  an  ani- 
mated conversation  ensued,  in  the  courye  of 
which  Gregson  inquired  after  the  welfare  cf  hia 
old  friend  Cupid,  the  black  cook. 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  is  no  more,"  replied  Ethel- 
ston, in  a  tone  of  deep  feeling  ;  "  he  died  as  h« 
had  lived,  proud,  brave,  faithful  to  the  last.  I 
cannot  tell  you  the  story  now,  it  is  too  sad  a 
one  for  this  our  first  evening  at  home  ;"  as  he 
spoke,  his  eyes  met  those  of  Lucy,  and  there 
he  read  all  that  his  overcharged  heart  desired 
to  know. 

Soon  after  the  allusion  to  this  melancholy 
incident,  the  little  party  broke  up  ;  the  evening 
being  already  far  advanced,  Gregson  returned 
to  Marietta ;  and  the  members  of  the  colonel's 
family  retired  to  their  respective  apartments, 
leaving  Ethelston  alone  in  the  drawing-room 
For  a  few  minutes  he  walked  up  and  down,  and 
pressed  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  whi(ii 
throbbed  with  various  and  deep  emotions.  He 
took  up  the  music  whereon  Lucy  had  written 
her  name,  the  needle- work  on  which  her  fingers 
had  been  employed ;  he  sat  down  on  the  chair 
she  had  just  left,  as  if  to  satisfy  himself  with 
the  assurance  that  all  around  him  was  not  a 
dream ;  and  again  he  vented  the  full  gratitude 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD 


C9 


0  liis  heart  in  a  brief  but  earnest  ejaculation 
of  thaniisgiving.  After  a  short  indulgence  in 
such  mei!itations,  he  retired  to  that  rest  of 
which  he  stood  so  much  in  need.  The  room 
that  iiad  been  prepared  for  him  was  up  stairs, 
and,  on  crossing  a  broad  passage  that  led  to  it, 
lie  suddenly  met  Lucy,  who  was  returning  to 
her  own  from  her  mother's  apartment.  Whether 
this  meeting  was  purely  accidental,  or  whether 
Lucy  remembering  that  she  had  not  said  Good- 
night, quite  distinctly  to  her  lover,  lingered  in 
her  mother's  room  until  she  heard  his  step  on 
the  stair,  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining, 
and  therefore  leave  it  undecided  ;  certain  it  is, 
however,  that  they  did  meet  in  the  passage 
above  mentioned,  and  that  Ethelston  putting 
down  his  candle  on  a  table  that  stood  by,  took 
Lucy's  unresisting  hand  and  pressed  it  in  his 
own  ;  he  gazed  on  her  blushing  countenance 
cvith  an  intensity  that  can  only  be  understood 
by  those  who,  like  him,  have  been  suddenly 
restored  to  a  beloved  one,  whose  image  had 
been  ever  present  during  a  long  absence,  as- 
suaging the  pain  of  sickness,  comforting  him  in 
trials,  dwelling  with  him  :'n  the  solitude  of  a 
prison,  and  sustaining  mm  in  the  extremest 
perils  of  the  storm,  the  fight,  and  the  shipwreck  ! 
Though  he  had  never  been  formally  betrothed 
to  her  in  words,  and  though  his  heart  was  now 
too  full  to  give  utterance  to  them,  he  had  heard 
enough  below  to  satisfy  liim  that  she  had  never 
doubted  his  faith — he  felt  that  their  troth  was 
t*:itly  plighted  to  each  other,  and  now  it  was 
almost  unconsciously  that  their  lips  met  and 
eealed  the  unspoken  contract. 

Tliat  first,  long,  passionate,  kiss  of  requited 
love  !  Its  raptures  have  been  the  theme  of 
glowing  prose,  of  impassioned  verse,  in  all  ages 
and  climes  ;  the  powers  of  language  have  been 
exhausted  upon  it,  the  tongue  and  the  pen  of 
Genius  have,  for  centuries  borrowed  for  its  de- 
scription the  warmest  hues  of  fancy  and  imagi- 
nation— and  yet  how  far  short  do  they  fall  of 
the  reality  !  how  impossible  to  express  in  words 
an  electric  torrent  of  feeling,  more  tumultuous 
thap  joy,  more  burning  than  the  desert's  thirst, 
— yet  sweeter  and  more  delicious  than  child- 
hood'6  dream  of  Paradise,  pouring  over  the 
heart  a  stream  of  bliss,  steeping  the  senses  in 
oblivicn  of  all  earthly  cares,  and  so  mysteriously 
blending  the  physical  with  the  immaterial  ele- 
ments of  our  nature,  that  we  feel  as  if,  in  that 
embrace,  we  could  transfuse  a  portion  of  our  soul 
and  spirit  into  the  beloved  object,  on  whose  lip 
that  first  kiss  of  long-treasured  love  is  imprinted. 

driei  aciii  iieeting  moments !  they  are  gone 
almost  before  the  mind  is  conscious  of  them ! 
They  could  not,  indeed,  be  otherwise  than  brief, 
for  the  agony  of  joy  is  like  that  of  pain,  and 
ezhau-sted  nature  would  sink  under  its  continued 
excess.  Precious  moments,  indeed  !  to  none 
can  they  be  known  more  than  once  in  life  ;  to 
very  many,  they  can  never  be  known  at  all. 
They  can  neither  be  felt  nor  imagined  by  the 
mere  worldling,  nor  the  sensualist ;  the  sources 
of  that  stream  of  bliss  must  be  unadulterated 
^>y  aught  low,  or  selfish  ;  it  is  not  enough  that 

"  Heart  and  soul  and  sense  in  concert  move  ;" 

desire  must  go  hand  in  hand  with  purity,  and 
virtue  be  the  handmaid  of  passion,  or  the  bliss- 
fa!  scene  will  lose  its  fairest  and  brightest  hues. 


Tlie  step  of  some  servant  was  heard  approach 
ing,  and  Lucy,  uttering  a  hasty  good-night,  re- 
turned to  her  room,  where  she  bolted  her  door, 
and  gave  herself  up  to  the  varied  emotions  by 
which  she  was  overcome.  Tears  bedewed  hei 
eyes,  but  they  were  not  tears  of  grief;  he 
bosom  was  agitated,  but  it  was  not  the  agi.a- 
tion  of  sorrow  ;  her  pillow  was  sleepless,  but 
she  courted  not  slumber,  for  her  mind  dwelt  on 
the  events  of  the  past  day,  and  gratitude  for 
her  lover's  return,  together  with  the  full  assu- 
rance of  his  untarnished  honour,  and  undimin- 
ished afTection,  rendered  her  waking  thoughts 
sweeter  than  any  that  sleep  could  have  bor- 
rowed from  the  Land  of  Dreams. 

On  the  following  morning,  after  breakfast, 
when  the  family  were  assembled  in  the  library, 
Ethelston,  at  the  request  of  Colonel  Brandon, 
commenced  the  narrative  of  his  adventures.  As 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted  with  them, 
until  the  closing  scene  of  poor  Nina's  life,  we 
shall  make  mention  of  that  part  of  his  tale,  no 
farther  than  to  state  that,  so  far  as  truth  would 
permit,  in  all  that  he  told  as  well  as  all  that  he 
forbore  to  tell,  he  feelingly  endeavoured  to 
shield  her  memory  from  blame ;  the  sequel  of 
his  story  we  shall  give  as  narrated  in  his  own 
words. 

"  I  remained  only  a  few  days  with  L'Estrange 
after  his  daughter's  death ;  during  which  time  I 
used  my  best  endeavours  to  console  him  ;  but, 
in  spite  of  the  affectionate  kindness  which  he 
showed  me,  I  felt  that  my  presence  must  e^er 
recall  and  refresh  the  remembrance  of  his  be- 
reavement, and  I  was  much  relieved  when  tl  ,e 
arrival  of  one  of  his  other  married  daughters 
with  her  family,  gave  me  an  excuse  and  an  op- 
portunity for  withdrawing  from  Guadalrupa 
The  vessel  which  had  brought  them  (tow  Ja- 
maica  proposed  to  return  immediately,  and  I 
easily  obtained  L'Estrange's  permission  to  gaii 
with  her,  only  on  the  condition  of  not  serving 
against  France  during  the  continuance  of  these 
hostilities :  when  I  bade  him  farewell  he  was 
much  affected,  and  embraced  me  as  if  he  were 
parting  with  a  son,  so  I  have  at  least  Ihe  mel- 
ancholy satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  retain 
his  best  wishes  and  his  esteem. 

"  My  voyage  to  Port-royal  was  prosperous  ; 
on  arriving  T  found  a  brig  laden  with  fruit  just 
about  to  sail,  in  a  few  days,  for  New  Orleans. 
I  confess  I  did  not  much  like  the  appearance 
either  of  the  vessel,  or  her  commander,  but 
such  was  my  impatience  to  return  to  Moo- 
shanne,  that  I  believe  I  would  have  risked  the 
voyage  in  an  open  boat,"  here  Ethelston  looked 
at  Lucy,  on  whose  countenance  a  blushing 
smile  showed  that  she  well  knew  the  meaning 
of  his  words:  "  I  embarked,"  he  continued 
"  accompanied  by  my  faithful  Cupid,  on  board 
the  '  Dos  Amigos  ;'  the  captain  was  an  ignorant 
, rum-drinking  Creole,  besides  himself  there  was 
only  one  white  man  in  the  crew,  and  the  col- 
oured men  were  from  all  countries  and  climates, 
the  most  reckless  and  turbulent  gang  that  I  had 
ever  seen  on  board  a  ship.  During  the  first 
half  of  the  voyage,  the  weather  being  favoura- 
ble, we  crept  along  the  southern  coast  of  Cuba 
and  past  almost  within  sight  of  the  Isla  de  Pi 
nos,  which  I  had  so  much  cause  to  remember  , 
thence  we  steered  a  northwesterly  course,  and 
doubled  the  Cape  of  Saint  Antonio  in  safety 


70 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


whence  we  had  a  prospect  of  a  fair  run  to  the 
Balise  ;  but,  two  days  after  we  had  lost  sight 
of  the  Cuban  coast,  it  came  on  to  blow  a  gale 
of  wind  which  gradually  increased  until  it  be- 
came almost  a  hurricane  from  the  south-west. 

The  brig  drove  helplessly  before  it,  and  from 
lier  leaky  and  shattered  condition,  as  well  as 
from  the  total  want  of  seamanship  exhibited  l)y 
lier  drunken  captain,  I  hourly  expected  that  she 
would  founder  at  sea  ;  for  twenty-four  hours  the 
gale  continued  with  unabated  violence,  and  the 
weather  was  so  thick  that  no  object  could  be 
discerned  at  two  hundred  yards  distance  ;  I  re- 
mained constantly  on  deck,  giving  such  assist- 
ance as  I  could  render,  and  endeavouring  to 
keep  the  captain's  lips  from  the  rum-bottle,  to 
which  he  had  more  frequent  recourse  as  the 
danger  became  more  imminent.  Being,  at 
length,  wearied  out,  I  threw  myself  in  my 
clothes  on  my  cot,  and  soon  fell  asleep.  I  know 
not  how  long  I  slept,  but  I  was  awakened  by  a 
violent  shock,  accompanied  by  a  grating  grind- 
ing sound,  from  which  I  knew  in  an  instant  that 
the  brig  had  struck  on  a  rock  ;  almost  before  I 
had  time  to  spring  from  my  cot,  Cupid  dashed 
into  the  cabin  and  seizing  me  with  the  force  of 
a  giant,  dragged  me  on  deck.  At  this  moment 
the  foremast  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and 
a  heavy  sea  swept  over  the  devoted  vessel,  car- 
lying  away  the  boat,  all  loose  spars,  and  many 
tf  the  crew ;  Cupid  and  I  held  on  by  the  main 
ligging  and  were  not  swept  away  ;  but  wave 
after  wave  succeeded  each  other  with  resist- 
less fury,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were  both 
struggling,  half  stunned  and  exhausted,  in  the 
abyss  of  waters,  holding  on  convulsively  to 
a  large  hen-coop,  which  had  providentially  been 
thrown  between  us. 

"  One  wild  shriek  of  despair  reached  my  ear, 
after  which  nothing  was  heard  but  the  tumultu- 
ous roar  of  the  angry  elements." 

At  this  part  of  Ethelston's  narrative,  Lucy 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  she 
would  thereby  shut  out  the  dreadful  view,  and 
in  spite  of  all  her  struggle  for  self-command,  a 
tear  stole  down  her  colourless  cheek. 

"  It  was,  indeed,  a  fearful  moment,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  and  yet  I  did  not  feel  deserted  by  hope  ; 
I  was  prepared  for  death,  I  prayed  fervently, 
and  I  felt  that  my  prayer  was  not  unheard  ; 
even  then,  in  the  strife  of  foaming  sea  and 
roaring  blast,  God  sent  the  vision  of  an  angel 
to  comfort  and  sustain  me  !  It  wore  the  form 
of  one  who  has  ever  dwelt  in  my  thoughts  by 
day,  and  in  my  dreams  by  night;  who  seemed 
as  near  to  me  then,  as  she  does  now  that  her 
gentle  tears  are  flowing  at  this  recital  of  my 
trials." 

While  speaking  the  last  words,  his  low  voice 
trembled  until  it  fell  into  a  whisper,  and  Lucy, 
overcome  by  her  feeling,  would  have  fallen  from 
lier  chair,  had  not  his  ready  arm  supported  her. 
A  dead  silenced  reigned  in  the  room.  Aunt  Mary 
wept  aloud,  and  Colonel  Brandon  walked  to  the 
window  to  conceal  his  emotion.  After  a  few 
.ninutes,  as  she  turned  again  towards  them  ; 
Ethelston,  who  still  supported  Lucy,  beckoned 
him  to  approach,  and  addressing  him  in  a  tone 
of  deep  and  earnest  feeling,  said, 

"  Colonel  Brandon,  my  guardian,  friend  and 
benefactor ;  add  yet  this  one  to  all  your  former 
beuefiis,  and  my  cup  of  gra'^tude  will  be  full  in- 


deed." as  he  spoke  he  took  the  unresisting  hand 
of  Lucy  in  his  own  ;  the  Colonel  looked  in- 
quiringly and  affectionately  at  his  daughter, 
who  did  not  speak,  but  raised  her  tearful  eyes 
to  his.  with  an  expression  not  to  be  misunder- 
stood. Pressing  their  xmited  hands  between 
his  own,  and  kissing  Lucy's  forehead  he  whis* 
pered,  ' 

"  God  bless  you,  my  children  :"  after  a  paus« 
he  added,  with  a  suppressed  smile,  "  EthclstoH 
shall  finish  his  narrative  presently  ;"  and  taking 
Aunt  Mary's  arm  he  left  the  room. 

We  will  imitate  the  Colonel's  discretion,  and 
forbear  to  intrude  upon  the  sacred  quiet  of  a 
scene  where  the  secret  long-cherished  love  of 
two  overflowing  hearts  was  at  length  un- 
reservedly interchanged ;  we  need  only  say 
that  ere  the  Colonel  returned  with  Aunt  Mary, 
after  an  absence  of  half  an  hour,  Lucy's  tears 
were  dried,  and  her  cheeks  were  suffused  with 
a  manthng  blush,  as  she  sprung  into  her  fa- 
ther's arms,  and  held  him  in  a  long  and  silent 
embrace. 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  the  Colonel,  when 
he  had  returned  her  affectionate  caress;  "sit 
down,  and  let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of  Ethel- 
ston's adventures — we  left  him  in  a  perilous 
plight,  and  I  am  anxious  to  hear  how  he  es- 
caped from  it." 

"  Not  without  much  suffering,  both  of  mind 
and  body,  my  dear  sir,"  continued  Ethelston  in 
a  serious  tone  of  voice  ;  "  for  the  sea  dashed  to 
an  fro  with  such  violence  the  frail  basket-work 
to  which  Cupid  and  I  were  clinging,  thst  more 
than  once  I  was  aliTiost  forced  to  quit  my  hold, 
and  it  was  soon  evident  that  its  buoyarit  powci 
was  not  sufficient  to  save  us  both,  especially  aa 
Cupid's  bulk  and  weight  were  commensurate 
with  his  gigantic  strength  ;  his  coolness  under 
these  trying  circumstances  was  remarkable ; 
observing  that  I  was  almost  fainting  from  the 
effects  of  a  severe  blow  on  the  head  from  a 
floating  piece  of  the  wreck,  he  poured  into  my 
mouth  some  rum  from  a  small  flask  that  he 
had  contrived  to  secure,  and  then  replacing  the 
stopper,  thrust  the  flask  into  my  breast  pocket, 
saying,  "  Capt'n  drink  more  when  he  want :" 
at  this  moment  a  large  spar  from  the  wreck 
was  driven  past  us,  and  the  faithful  creature 
said,  "  Capt'n,  hencoop  not  big  enough  for  two 
Cupid  swim  and  take  spar  te  ride  ;"  and  ere  I 
could  stop  him  he  loosed  his  hold  and  plunged 
into  the  huge  wave  to  seize  the  spar ;  more  I 
could  not  see,  for  the  spray  dashed  over  me, 
and  the  gloom  and  the  breakers  hid  him  in  a 
moment  from  my  sight.  I  felt  my  strength  fail- 
ing, but  enough  remained  for  me  to  loose  a 
strong  silk  kerchief  froin  my  neck,  and  to  lash 
myself  firmly  to  the  hencoop  ;  again  and  again 
the  wild  sea  broke  over  me  :  I  felt  a  tremend 
ous  and  stunning  blow — as  I  thought,  the  last, 
and  I  was  no  more  conscious  of  what  passed 
around. 

"  When  I  recoverd  my  senses  f  found  mysell 
lying  upon  some  soft  branches,  and  sheltered  by 
low  bushes,  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  sea- 
beach  ;  two  strange  men  were  standing  neai 
me,  and  gave  evident  signs  of  satisfaction  vvhen 
they  saw  my  first  attempts  at  speech  and  mo- 
tion ;  they  made  me  swallow  several  morsels 
of  sea  biscuit  steeped  in  rum,  and  I  was  soon 
so  far  restored  as  to  be  able  to  sit  up,  and  u 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


71 


earn  the  particulars  of  my  situation.  The 
island  near  which  the  brig  had  been  wrecked, 
was  one  of  the  Tortugas  ;  the  two  men  who 
had  carried  me  up  to  a  dry  spot  from  the  beach, 
belonged  to  a  small  fishing-craft,  which  had  put 
in  two  days  before  the  hurricane  for  a  supply  of 
water,  and  in  hopes  of  catching  turtle.  Their 
vessel  was  securely  moored  in  a  little  natural 
iiarbour,  protected  by  the  outer  ledge  of  rocks  ; 
the  reef  on  which  the  brig  had  struck  was  up- 
ward of  a  mile  from  the  spot  where  they  had 
found  me,  and  I  could  not  learn  from  them  that 
they  had  seen  any  portion  of  her  wreck,  or  any 
■part  of  her  crew  alive  or  dead. 

"As  soon  as  my  bruised  condition  permitted 
oie  to  drag  my  limbs  along,  I  commenced  a 
careful  search  along  the  low  rocky  shore,  in 
hopes  of  learning  something  of  the  fate  of  Cu- 
pid, and  at  length  was  horrified  on  discovering 
the  mutilated  remains  of  the  faithful  creature, 
among  some  crevices  in  the  rocks.  He  had 
clung  to  the  spar  which  still  lay  beside  him 
with  the  pertinacious  strength  of  despair;  his 
liands  and  limbs  were  dreadfully  mangled,  and 
his  skull  fractured  by  the  violence  with  which 
he  had  been  driven  on  the  reef  I  remembered 
how  he  had  resigned  the  hencoop  to  save  my 
life ;  and  the  grief  that  I  evinced  for  his  loss 
moved,  the  compassion  of  the  fisherman,  who 
aided  me  to  bury  him  decerftiy  on  the  island. 

«' We  remained  there  two  days  longer,  until 
the  gale  had  subsided,  during  which  time  I 
frequently  visited  poor  Cupid's  grave ;  and 
though  many  of  our  countrymen  would  be 
ashamed  of  o  wn  ing  such  regret  fur  one  of  his  col- 
our, I  confess  that  when  on  that  lonely  spot  I 
called  to  mind  his  faithful  services,  and  his  last 
noble  act  of  generous  courage,  I  mourned  him 
as  a  friend  and  brother. 

"  When  the  fishing-smack  put  to  sea,  I  pre- 
vailed on  her  captain  to  visit  the  reef  where  the 
brig  had  struck,  but  we  found  not  a  spar  nor 
plank  remaining ;  nor  am  I  to  this  moment 
aware  whether  any  others  of  her  crew  survived 
the  wreck,  but  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
they  perished  to  a  man.  Upon  the  promise  of 
a  considerable  sum  of  money,  I  prevailed  upon 
the  fisherman  to  give  me  a  passage  to  New- 
Orleans,  where  we  arrived  without  accident  or 
adventure,  and  my  impatience  to  reach  home 
cnly  permitted  me  to  stay  in  that  city  a  few 
iiours,  when,  having  provided  myself  with  a 
«iiise,  I  rode  on  hither  by  forced  marches,  and 
irrived  in  the  travel-worn  condition  that  you 
ttbserved  yesterday." 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

A.n  Elk-hunt. — Reginald  makes  his  first  essay  in  surgery. 
— The  reader  is  admitted  into  Praiiie-Bird's  tent. 

We  left  Reginald  Brandon  in  the  skirt  of  the 
forest  bounding  the  Western  Prairie,  accompa- 
nied by  Winginund  and  War-Eagle.  The  lat- 
ter, having  taken  the  lead,  conducted  his  com- 
panions through  a  considerable  extent  of 
ground,  covered  with  bushes  of  alder  and  scrub- 
oak,  until  they  reached  an  open  forest  glade, 
where  tiie  Indian  pointed  out  to  Reginald  a 
large  square  building,  composed  of  rough  logs, 
and  covered  with  the  same  material.     In  the 


centre  of  one  side  was  a  low  aperture  or  door, 
about  fifteen  Inches  in  height,  in  front  of  which 
was  a  train  of  maize  laid  by  Wingenund  ;  on 
approaching  this  turkey-pen,  or  tnap,  they  ob- 
served that  there  were  already  two  prisoners,  a 
large  gobbler  and  a  female  bird,  although  not 
more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  the  lad  had 
taken  out  the  four  turkeys  which  have  been  be- 
fore mentioned.  When  the  captives  becaire 
aware  of  the  approach  of  the  party,  they  ran 
about  the  pen  from  side  to  side,  thrusting  oit 
their  long  necks,  peering  through  the  crevices 
in  the  logs,  jumping  and  flying  against  the  top, 
in  their  violent  endeavours  to  escape. 

"  Do  they  never  stoop  their  heads,"  inquired 
Reginald,  "  and  go  out  at  the  same  door  by 
which  they  entered  V 

"  Never,"  replied  Wingenund. 

"That  is  singular,"  said  Reginald,  "for  thft 
bird  is  in  general  very  sagacious  and  difficult  to 
be  taken  or  killed  ; — how  does  it  happen  that 
they  are  so  unaccountably  stupid  as  not  to  go 
out  where  they  came  in  ?' 

Before  answering  the  question  addressed  to 
him,  Wingenund  cast  a  diffident  look  towards 
War-Eagle,  and  on  receiving  from  the  chief  a 
sign  to  reply,  he  said, 

"Netis  knows  that  the  Great  Spirit  distrib- 
utes the  gifts  of  wisdom  and  cunning  like  the 
sunshine  and  the  storm,  even  the  Black-Father 
does  not  understand  all  his  ways.  How  can 
Wingenund  tell  why  the  turkey's  eye  is  so 
quick,  his  ear  so  sharp,  his  legs  so  swiff! — and 
yet  he  is  sometimes  a  fool ;  when  he  picks  up 
the  maize,  his  head  is  low  ;  he  walks  through 
the  opening ;  he  is  in  a  strange  place  ;  he  is 
frightened ;  and  fear  takes  from  him  all  the 
sense  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  him. 
Wingenund  knows  no  more." 

"  My  young  brother  speaks  truly  and  wisely 
beyond  his  years,"  said  Reginald,  kindly.  "  It 
is  as  you  say,  fear  makes  him  forget  all  the  ca- 
pacities of  his  nature  ;  it  is  so  with  men — why 
should  it  be  otherwise  with  birds  1  Does  War- 
Eagle  say  nothing r' 

"  My  brother's  words  are  true,"  replied  the 
chief,  gravely  ;  "  he  has  picked  out  one  arrow, 
but  many  remain  in  the  quiver." 

"  My  brother  speaks  riddles,"  said  Reginald. 
"  I  do  not  understand  him." 

"  Fear  is  a  bad  spirit,"  replied  the  chief,  rais- 
ing his  arm  and  speaking  with  energy.  "  It 
creeps  round  the  heart  of  a  woman,  and  crawls 
among  the  lodges  of  the  Dacotahs ;  it  makes 
the  deer  leap  into  the  river  when  he  would  be 
safer  in  the  thicket ;  it  makes  the  turkey  a  fool 
and  keeps  him  in  the  pen  :  but  there  are  other 
bad  spirits  that  make  the  heart  crooked  and  the 
eyes  blind." 

"  Tell  me,  how  so  1"  inquired  Reginald,  de- 
sirous of  encouraging  his  Indian  friend  to  con 
tinue  his  illustration. 

"  Does  my  brother  know  the  antelope,"  re 
plied  War-Eagle;  "he  is  very  cunning  and 
swift ;  his  eye  is  quick  as  the  turkey's ;  the 
hunter  could  not  overtake  him  :  but  he  lies 
down  in  a  hollow  and  hides  himself ;  he  fastens 
a  tuft  of  grass  to  his  bow  and  holds  it  over  hia 
head  ;  the  Bad  Spirit  gets  into  the  antelope  ;  he 
becomes  a  fool ;  he  comes  nearer  and  nearer  to 
look  at  the  strange  sight ; — the  hunter  shoots 
and  he  dies.    There  are  many  bad  soirits.   The 


72 


THE   PRAIRIE -BIRD. 


Wyandot  who  struck  at  my  white  brother,  he  was 
a  cunning  snake  ;  he  had  taken  scalps,  tlie  ball 
of  his  rifle  did  not  wander;  if  he  had  crept  in 
the  bushes  on  my  brother's  path,  Netis  would 
now  be  in  the  happy  hunting-fields  of  tiie  while 
warriors.  But  a  Bad  Spirit  look  him  ;  he  of- 
fered food  while  his  heart  was  false,  and  he 
thrust  his  head  under  the  tomahawk  of  War- 
Eagle.  There  are  many  bad  spirits.  I  have 
spoken." 

Reginald  listened  with  interest  to  these  sen- 
timents of  his  Indian  friend,  expressed,  as  they^ 
were,  in  broken  sentences  and  in  broken  Eng- 
lish, the  purport  of  them  being,  however,  exact- 
ly conveyed  in  the  foregoing  sentences  ;  but  he 
refrained  from  pursuing  the  subject  farther,  ob- 
serving that  War-Eagle  was  slinging  the  tur- 
keys over  Wingenund's  shoulder,  and  preparing 
to  pursue  their  course  in  search  of  the  elk 
Leaving  the  youth  to  return  with  his  feathered 
burden  to  the  encampment,  the  two  friends  con- 
tinued their  excursion,  War-Eagle  leading  the 
way,  and  stopping  every  now  and  then  to  ex- 
amine such  tracks  as  appeared  to  him  worthy  of 
notice.  They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  they 
reached  a  spot  where  the  path  which  they  were 
following  crossed  a  small  rivulet,  and,  the  soil 
being  soft  on  its  bank,  there  were  numerous 
hoof-prints  of  deer  and  elk,  but  so  confused  by 
the  trampling  of  the  different  animals,  that 
Reginald  could  not  distinguish  the  one  from  the 
atb'ir.  It  was  not  so,  however,  with  the  Indian, 
V  pointing  downward  to  a  track  at  his  fool, 
he  aade  a  sign,  by  raising  both  his  hands  above 
his  head,  to  indicate  a  pair  of  antlers,  and  whis- 
pered to  Reginald  "  very  big." 

"An  elkV  inquired  the  latter;  making  a  si- 
lent affirmative  sign,  War-Eagle  pursued  the 
trail  which  conducted  them  to  the  top  of  a  small 
rising  ground,.;wliere  it  appeared  to  branch  in 
several  directions' and  became  almost  impercep- 
tible from  the  shortness  of  the  grass  and  the 
hardness  of  the  soil.  But  these  seemed  to  offer 
no  impediment  to  the  Indian's  pursuit  of  his 
iiuarry,  for  turning  short  at  a  right  angle  to  their 
former  course,  he  descended  the  hillock  in  a 
different  direction,  walking  with  a  swift  noise- 
less step  as  if  he  saw  his  game  before  him. 

Reginald's  surprise  overcame  even  his  eager- 
ness for  the  sport,  trained  as  he  had  been  in  the 
woods,  and  justly  held  one  of  the  quickest  and 
most  skilful  hunters  in  the  territory  ;  he  had 
looked  in  vain  on  the  ground  which  they  were 
now  traversing  for  the  slightest  point  or  foot- 
mark ;  touching,  therefore,  his  friend  lightly  on 
his  shoulder,  he  whispered,  "  Does  my  brother 
guess  the  elk's  path  1 — or  can  he  smell  it  hke 
the  Spaniard's  dog?" 

A  good-humoured  smile  played  on  the  Dela- 
ware's lip  as  he  replied,  "  The  trail  of  the  elk  is 
broad  and  easy  ;  War-Eagle  could  follow  it  by 
the  moon's  light!  My  while  brutber  wdl  see  ; 
he  is  an  elk  chief;  his  squaws  are  with  him." 

As  he  spoke  he  showed  several  marks  which 
Reginald  could  scarcely  distinguish  on  the  short 
grass ;  a  few  yards  farther  War-Eagle  added, 
pointing  to  a  low  bu.sh  beside  them,  "  If  Netis 
does  not  see  the  elk's  fool,  he  can  see  his  teeth." 

On  examining  the  bush  Reginald  perceived 
that  a  small  fresh  twig  from  the  side  of  it  had 
been  recently  cropped,  and  suppressing  his  as- 
tODishment  at  his  friend's  sagacity-  in  following 


with  such  apparent  ease  a  trail  that  to  him  was 
scarcely  discernible,  he  allowed  him  to  proceed 
without  farther  interruption,  closely  watching 
his  every  movement,  in  the  hope  that  he  might 
be  able  to  discover  some  of  the  indications  by 
wliicli  the  Indian  was  guided.  Moving  lightly  for 
ward,  they  soon  had  occasion  again  to  cross  the 
brook  before  mentioned  ;  and  on  the  soft  edge 
of  its  hanks,  War-Eagle  pointed  in  silence  to  the 
track  of  the  large  hoof  of  the  elk,  andvto  the 
smaller  print  left  by  the  feet  of  its  female  com- 
panions. Desiring  Reginald  to  remain  still,  the 
Indian  now  crept  stealthily  forward  to  the  top 
of  a  small  hillock  covered  with  brushwood, 
where  he  lay  for  a  few  seconds  with  his  ear 
touching  the  ground.  Having  once  raised  hi« 
head  to  look  through  a  low  bush  in  front  of  him,, 
he  sank  again  upon  the  grohnd,  and  made  a  sig. 
nal  for  his  friend  to  creep  to  the  spot.  Regi- 
nald obeyed,  and  peering  cautiously  tbroagh  the 
leaves  of  the  same  bush,  he  saw  the  stately  elk 
browsing  at  a  distance  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards,  the  two  hinds  being  beyond  him  ;  the  in- 
tervening ground  being  barren  and  almost  flat, 
offering  no  cover  for  a  nearer  approach,  his  first 
impulse  was  to  raise  his  rifle  for  a  distant  shot ; 
but  War-Eagle,  gently  pressing  down  the  bar- 
rel, motioned  him  to  crouch  behind  the  bush, 
When  they  were  arain  concealed,  the  Delaware 
whispered  to  his  friend,  that  he  would  go  round 
and  creep  on  the  elk  from  the  opposite  quarter. 

Reginald  in  reply  pointed  to  the  top  branches 
of  a  young  poplar  gently  waving  in  the  breeze. 

"  War-Eagle  knows  it,"  said  the  Indian  grave- 
ly, "  the  wind  is  from  that  quarter ;  it  is  not 
good  ;  but  he  will  try ;  if  elk  smell  him,  he 
comes  this  way,  and  Netis  shoot  him."  So  say- 
ing, he  crept  down  the  little  hillock  by  the  same 
path  which  they  had  followed  in  the  ascent,  and 
then  striking  off  in  an  oblique  direction  was 
soon  lost  to  view. 

Reginald,  still  concealed  behind  the  bush, 
silent  and  motionless,  with  his  hand  on  the  lock 
of  his  rifle,  watched  intently  every  movement 
of  the.antlered  monarch  of  the  woods  ;  the  lat- 
tar,  unconscious  of  danger,  lazily  picked  the 
tenderest  shoots  from  the  surrounding  bushes, 
or  tossed  his  lofty  head  to  and  fro,  as  if  to  dis- 
play the  ease  and  grace  with  which  it  bore  those 
enormous  antlers.  More  than  once,  as  he  turned 
to  brush  off  from  his  side  some  troublesome  fly, 
Reginald  thought  he  had  become  suddenly  aware 
of  the  Indian's  approach  ;  but  it  was  not  so,  for 
in  spite  of  the  disadvantage  of  the  wind,  the 
practised  Delaware  moved  towards  his  unsus- 
pecting prey  with  the  stealthy  creep  of  a  panther. 
Reginald's  impatience  was  such  that  minulea 
seemed  to  him  hours  ;  and  his  fingers  played 
with  the  lock  of  his  rifle,  as  if  he  could  no  longer 
control  their  movement ;  at  length  a  sudden 
snort  from  one  of  the  hinds  announced  that  she 
smelt  or  heard  some  object  of  alarm  as  she  came 
trotting  to  the  side  of  her  lordly  protector. 

Turning  himself  to  windward,  and  throv^'ing 
forward  his  ears,  the  elk  listened  for  a  moment, 
Vvhile  his  upturned  and  wide  distended  nostril 
snuffed  the  breeze,  to  discover  the  danger  of 
which  be  had  been  warned  by  his  male.  That 
moment  was  not  lost  by  the  Delaware,  and  the 
rpport  of  bis  r*8e  echoed  through  the  forest. 
Tossing  Iris  hcaa'i|j^  a  sudden  start  the  elk 
fled  from  his  now  discovered  foe,  and  v'u^ 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


73 


bounding  over  the  barren  space  in  front  of  the 
bush  where  Reginald  was  concealed.  With  a 
coolness  that  did  great  credit  to  his  nerves  as  a 
hunter,  the  latter  remained  motionless,  with  his 
eye  on  the  game  and  his  finger  on  the  trigger, 
until  the  elk  passed  his  station  at  speed  ;  then 
he  fired,  and  with  so  true  an  aim,  that  ere  it  had 
gone  fifty  yards,  the  noble  beast  fell  to  the  earth, 
and  immediately  Reginald's  hunting  knife  put  an 
end  to  its  pain  and  to  its  life.  The  young  man 
looked  over  the  quarry  with  pride  and  pleasure, 
for  it  was  the  largest  he  had  ever  seen  ;  and  the 
shot  (which  had  pierced  the  heart)  was  well  cal- 
culated to  raise  War-Eagle's  opinion  of  his  skill 
in  wood-craft.  While  he  was  still  contemplating 
the  animal's  bulk  and  fine  proportions,  the  ex- 
clamation "  good  1"  uttered  in  English,  gave  him 
the  first  notice  that  the  Delaware  was  at  his  side. 

"  Ha  !  my  friend,"  said  Reginald,  grasping  his 
hand  cordially ;  "  you  sent  him  down  towards 
me  in  fine  style.  Tell  me,  War-Eagle,  are  there 
many  elks  as  large  in  this  country  V 

"Not  many,"  replied  the  Indian;  "War- 
Eagle  told  his  white  brother  that  the  elk's  foot 
on  the  trail  was  big." 

"  Was  my  brother  very  far  when  he  shot  1" 
inquired  Reginald  ;  "  when  his  rifle  speaks,  the 
ball  does  not  wander  in  the  air." 

"War-Eagle  was  far,"  replied  the  Indian, 
quietly,  "  but  the  elk  carries  the  mark  of  his 
rifle — Netis  shot  better ;"  on  examination,  it 
appeared  that  the  chief  was  right.  His  bullet 
had  passed  through  the  fleshy  part  of  the  ani- 
mal's neck,  but  not  having  cut  the  wind-pipe, 
the  wound  was  not  mortal,  and  but  little  blood 
had  flowed  from  it. 

While  the  Indian  was  busied  in  skinning  and 
cutting  up  the  elk,  Reginald  amused  himself  by 
reconnoitring  the  ground  over  which  bis  friend 
had  crept  before  he  shot,  and  he  was  struck  by 
the  extraordinary  sagacity  with  which  the  lat- 
ter had  made  his  approach ;  for  on  that  side 
there  were  but  few  and  scattered  bushes,  nor 
was  there  any  rugged  or  broken  ground  favour- 
able for  concealment. 

When  the  choicest  portions  of  meat  were  duly 
separated  and  enveloped  in  the  skin,  War-Ea- 
gle hung  them  up  on  an  adjacent  tree,  care- 
fully rubbing  damp  powder  over  the  covering, 
to  protect  the  meat  from  the  wglves  and  carrion 
birds ;  after  which  the  friends  proceeded  on 
their  excursion. 

Having  found  fresh  tracks  of  elk  leading  to- 
wards the  open  prairie,  they  followed  them,  and 
succeeded  in  killing  two  more,  after  which  they 
returned  to  the  encampment,  whence  War- 
Eagle  despatched  a  young  Indian  with  a  horse, 
and  with  direetions  as  to  the  locality  of  the 
meat,  whiclr  he  was  instructed  to  bring  home. 

As  Reginald  walked  through  the  lodges  of 
the  Osage  village,  he  observed  a  crowd  of  In- 
dians collected  before  one  of  them,  and  curiosi- 
ty prompted  him  to  turn  aside  and  observe  what 
might  be  passing.  Making  his  way  without  dif- 
ficulty through  the  outer  circle  of  spectators,  he 
found  himself  before  a  lodge,  in  front  of  which 
a  wounded  boy  of  twelve  or  fourteen  years  of 
age,  was  extended  on  a  buffalo-robe.  On  in- 
quiry, Reginald  learned  from  an  Indian  who 
could  ppeak  a  few  words  of  English,  that  the 
lad  had  been  struck  down  and  trampled  on  by  a 
vicious  horse ;  although  no  sound  escaped  from 


his  lips,  the  involuntary  writhing  of  the  youth- 
ful sufferer  showed  the  acuteness  of  the  pain 
which  he  endured  ;  while  a  bulky  Indian,  in  the 
garb  of  an  Osage  Medicine-man,  was  displaying 
beside  him  the  various  absurd  mummeries  of 
his  vocation. 

This  native  quack  was  naked  to  the  waist  ; 
his  breast  and  back  being  painted  over  whh 
representations  of  snakes  and  lizards.  Instead 
of  the  usual  breech-cloth,  or  middle  garment, 
he  wore  a  kind  of  apron  of  antelope  skins, 
hemmed,  or  skirted  with  feathers  of  various 
colours:  the  borders  of  his  leggings  were  also 
adorned  with  the  wings  of  an  owl ;  in  one  hand 
he  held  a  tomahawk,  the  haft  of  which  was 
painted  white,  and  in  the  other  a  hollow  gourd 
containing  a  few  hard  beans,  or  stones  of  the  wild 
cherry,  which  latter  instrument  he  rattled  inces- 
santly round  the  head  of  his  patient,  accompa- 
nying this  ^sc'ilapian  music  with  the  most 
grotesque  gesticulations,  and  a  sort  of  moaning 
howl — all  these  being  intended  to  exorcise  and 
drive  away  the  evil  spirit  of  pain. 

While  Reginald  was  contemplating  the  strange 
spectacle  with  mingled  curiosity  and  compas- 
sion, he  heard  a  confused  murmur  among  those 
Indians  nearest  to  the  corner  of  the  lodge,  and 
thought  he  could  distinguish  the  name  of  Oliti- 
pa  ;  nor  was  he  mistaken,  for  almost  immedi- 
ately afterwards  the  crowd  divided,  and  Prairie- 
bird  appeared  before  the  lodge.  Her  dress  wag 
the  same  as  that  in  which  Reginald  had  before 
seen  her,  excepting  that,  in  place  of  the  chaplt-t 
of  wild  flowers,  she  wore  on  her  head  a  turban 
of  party-coloured  silk,  the  picturesque  effect  of 
which,  blending  with  her  dark  hair  and  the  ori- 
ental character  of  her  beauty,  reminded  our  hero 
of  those  Circassian  enchantresses  whom  he  had 
read  of  in  eastern  fable,  as  ruling  satrap  or  sul- 
tan,  with  a  power  more  despotic  than  his  own  ' 
Prairie-bird,  walking  gently  forward  with 
modest  self-possession,  took  her  place  by  tha 
side  of  the  sufferer,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  nu- 
merous eyes  that  were  observing  all  her  move- 
ments ;  the  Medicine-man,  whose  exorcisms 
had  been  hitherto  attended  with  no  success, 
retreated  into  the  lodge,  whence  he  narrowly 
and  silently  observed  the  proceedings  of  his  fail 
rival  in  the  healing  art. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Prairie-bird  to  ascer- 
tain that  the  boy's  hurts  were  very  serious,  foi 
the  hot  brow,  the  dry  lip,  the  involuntarj'  con- 
tortions of  the  frame,  gave  clear  evidence  of 
acute  pain  and  fever.  She  deeply  regretted 
that  the  Missionary  had  been  absent  when  she 
was  summoned,  as  his  assistance  would  have 
been  most  useful,  nevertheless,  she  resolved  to 
do  all  in  her  power  towards  the  mitigation  of 
sufferings,  the  cure  of  which  seemed  beyond 
the  reach  of  her  simple  remedies.  Opening  a 
bag  that  hung  at  her  girdle,  she  drew  from  it 
some  linen  bandage,  and  various  salves  and 
simples,  together  with  a  small  case  of  instru- 
ments belonging  to  Paul  Muller,  and  kneeling 
by  her  ^  young  patient's  side,  she  breathed  a 
short,  but  earnest  prayer  for  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  on  her  humble  exertions.  During  thia 
pause,  the  Indians  observed  a  strict  and  atten- 
tive silence  ;  and  Reginald  felt  a  kind  of  awe 
mingle  itself  with  his  impassioned  admiration 
as  he  contemplated  the  unaffected  simplicity 
and  loveUness  of  her  kneeling  figure 


74 


THE    PRAIRI  E-BIKD. 


A  serious  wound  in  the  young  patient's  tem- 
ole  claimed  lior  first  care,  which  having  washed 
and  closed,  she  covored  with  a  healing  plaster, 
but  ohserving  that  the  symptoms  of  fever  had 
rather  increased  than  diminished,  she  knew  that 
the  lancet  should  be  immediately  applied,  and 
cast  her  anxious  eyes  around  in  the  hope  that 
the  misionary  might  have  heard  of  the  accident, 
and  be  now  on  his  way  to  the  lodge.  While 
looking  thus  around,  she  became  for  the  first 
time  aware  of  Reginald's  presence,  and  a  slight 
blush  accompanied  her  recognition  of  him  ;  but 
her  thoughts  recurring  immediately  to  the  ob- 
ject of  her  present  attention,  she  asked  him  in 
a  clear  low  voice  to  come  nearer,  on  which  he 
moved  forward  from  the  circle  of  spectators, 
and  stood  before  the  lodge. 

Prairie-bird,  pointing  to  the  form  of  the  young 
Indian,  said  in  English,  "The  poor  boy  is  much 
hurt,  he  will  die  if  he  is  not  bled ;  the  Black 
Father  is  absent ;  can  Reginald  take  blood  from 
the  arml" 

"I  do  not  pretend  to  much  skill  in  surgery, 
fair  Prairie-bird,"  replied  the  young  man,  smi- 
ling; "but  I  have  learned  to  bleed  my  horse 
and  my  dog,  and  if  the  necessity  be  urgent,  me- 
thinks  I  can  open  a  vein  in  this  boy's  arm  with- 
out much  risk  of  danger." 

"It  is  indeed  urgent,"  said  the  maiden,  ear- 
nestly ;  "  here  are  Paul  Mxiller's  instruments  ;  I 
pray  you  take  a  lancet  and  proceed  without  de- 
lay." 

Thus  urged,  Reginald  selected  a  lancet,  and 
naving  proved  its  sharpness,  he  passed  a  band- 
age tightly  round  the  sufferer's  arm,  and  set 
about  his  first  surgical  operation  with  becoming 
care  and  gravity,  the  Osagcs  drawing  near  and 
looking  on  in  attentive  silence.  Before  apply- 
ing the  lancet,  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Prairie- 
bird,  "  Must  I  allow  a  considerable  quantity  of 
blood  to  flow  'ere  I  staunch  it!"  and  on  her 
making  an  affirmative  sign,  he  added,  "Let  me 
entreat  you  to  turn  your  eyes  away,  it  is  not  a 
fitting  sight  for  them,  and  tliey  might  affect  the 
steadiness  of  my  nerves." 

With  a  deep  blush  Prairie-bird  cast  down  her 
eyes,  and  began  to  employ  them  busily  in  search- 
ing her  little  bag  for  some  cordial  drinks  and 
healing  ointment,  to  be  administered  after  the 
bleeding  should  be  over. 

Reginald  acquitted  himself  of  his  task  with 
skill  and  with  complete  success,  and  found  no 
difficulty  in  staunching  the  blood,  and  placing  a 
proper  bandage  on  the  arm  ;  after  which  the 
restoratives  prepared  by  Prairie- bird  were  ap- 
plied, and  in  a  very  short  time  they  had  the 
Batisfaction  of  finding  the  symptoms  of  fever 
and  pain  subside,  and  were  able  to  leave  the 
youthful  patient  to  repose.  Prairie-bird  promis- 
ing to  visit  him  again  on  the  morrow. 

An  elderly  brave  of  the  Osages  now  stepped 
forward,  and  presented  Prairie-bird  with  a  gir- 
dle of  cloth,  ornamented  with  feathers,  quills, 
and  beads  of  the  gayest  colours,  an  offering 
which  she  received  with  that  modest  grace 
which  was  inseparable  from  her  every  move- 
ment ;  the  same  brave  (who  was,  in  fact,  the 
father  of  the  wounded  boy),  presented  Reginald 
with  a  painted  buffalo  robe,  which,  as  soon  as 
he  had  displayed  its  strange  designs  and  devi- 
ces, he  desired  a  young  Indian  to  convey  to  the 
yghite  chief's  lodge.    Our  hero  having,  in  re- 


turn, given  to  the  Osage  a  knife  with  an  orna- 
mented sheath,  which  he  had  worn,  in  addition 
to  his  own,  in  case  of  being  suddenly  called 
upon  to  make  such  a  present,  prepared  to  ac- 
company Prairie-bird  to  her  lodge. 

As  they  left  the  circle,  Reginald's  eye  en- 
countered  that  of  Mahega,  fixed  with  a  scowling 
expression  on  himself  and  his  fair  companion, 
but  he  passed  on  without  noticing  the  sullen 
and  haughty  chief,  being  resolved  not  to  involve 
himself  in  any  quarrel  in  her  presence.  They 
walked  slowly  towards  tiie  lodge  of  Tamenund, 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  did  not  take 
exactly  the  shortest  path  to  it,  Reginald  leading 
the  way,  and  Prairie-bird  following  his  ocea 
sional  deviations  with  marvellous  acquies 
cence. 

The  young  man  turned  the  conversa,tion  on 
the  character  of  Paul  Miiller,  knowing  it  to  be 
a  subject  agreeable  to  Prairie-bird,  and  well  cal- 
culated to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  listening 
to  that  voice  which  was  already  music  to  his 
ear;  nor  was  he  disappointed,  for  she  spoke  of 
him  with  all  the  warmth  of  the  most  affection- 
ate regard  ;  and  the  expression  of  her  feelings 
imparted  such  eloquence  to  her  tongue  and  to 
her  beaming  eyes,  that  Reginald  looked  and 
listened  in  enraptured  silence.  As  they  drew 
near  her  tent,  she  suddenly  checked  herself,  and 
looking  up  in  his  face  with  an  archness  that 
was  irresistible,  said,  "  Pray  pardon  me,  I  have 
been  talking  all  this  time,  when  I  ought  to  have 
been  listening  to  you,  who  are  so  much  wiser 
than  myself." 

'•  Say  not  so,"  replied  Reginald,  with  an  ear- 
nestness that  he  attempted  not  to  conceal ; 
"  say  not  so,  I  only  regret  that  we  have  already 
reached  your  tent,  for  I  should  never  be  weary 
of  listening  to  your  voice." 

Prairie-bird  replied  with  that  ingenuou-s  sim- 
plicity peculiar  to  her : 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  for  I  know 
you  speak  the  truth,  and  it  makes  me  very  hap- 
py to  give  you  pleasure ;  now  I  must  go  into 
my  tent." 

So  saying  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  and 
nothing  but  the  presence  of  several  Indians  loi- 
tering near,  prevented  his  obeying  the  impulse 
which  prompted  him  to  press  it  to  his  lips ; 
checking  it  by  an  effort  of  prudence,  he  with- 
drew into  the  lodge  of  Tamenund,  and  mused 
on  the  qualities  of  this  extraordinary  clnld  of 
the  wilderness,  her  beauty,  her  grace,  her  dig- 
nity, and  above  all,  that  guileless  simphciiy  that 
distinguished  her  beyond  all  that  he  had  ever 
seen  ;  in  short,  he  mused  so  long  on  the  subject 
that  we  will  leave  him  to  his  meditations,  as 
we  fear  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  was  al- 
most, if  not  quite,  "  in  love,"  and  the  reflections 
of  parties  so  circumstanced,  are  rarely  interest- 
ing to  others. 

What  were  the  feelings  of  Prairie-bird  when 
she  once  more  found  herself  alone  in  her  tent, 
and  vainly  endeavoured  to  still  the  unwonted 
tumult  in  her  heart !  Her  thoughts,  in  spite  of 
herself,  would  dwell  on  the  companion  who  had 
escorted  her  from  the  Osage  lodge  ;  his  words 
still  rang  in  her  ears  ;  his  image  was  before  her 
eyes ;  she  felt  ashamed  that  one,  almost  a 
stranger,  should  thus  absorb  all  her  faculties, 
and  was  the  more  ashamed  from  being  con- 
scious that  she  did  not  wish  it  were  otherwise ; 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


75 


her  heart  told  her  that  it  would  not  exchange 
its  present  state  of  tumult  and  subjection  for  its 
former  condition  of  quiet  and  peace  ! 

Lest  the  reader  should  be  inclined  to  judge 
her  as  harshly  as  she  judged  herself,  we  will 
beg  him  to  remember  the  circumstances  and 
history  of  this  singular  girl.  Brought  up  among 
a  roving  tribe  of  Indians,  she  had  fortunately 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  family  remarkable  for 
the  highest  virtues  exhibited  by  that  people ; 
the  missionary,  Paul  Miiller,  had  cultivated  her 
understanding  with  the  most  affectionate  and 
zealous  care ;  and  he  was,  with  the  exception 
of  an  occasional  trader  visiting  the  tribe,  almost 
the  only  man  of  her  own  race  whom  she  had 
seen  ;  and  though  entertaining  towards  Tame- 
nund  the  gratitude  which  his  kindness  to  her 
deserved,  and  towards  War-Eagle  and  Winge- 
nund  the  affectionate  regard  of  a  sister,  both 
(he  knowledge  imparted  by  the  missionary,  and 
her  own  instinctive  feeling  had  taught  her  to 
consider  herself  among  them  as  a  separate  and 
isolated  being.  These  feelings  she  had  of 
course  nourished  in  secret,  but  they  had  not  al- 
together escaped  the  penetration  of  Wingenund, 
who,  it  may  be  remembered,  had  told  Reginald 
on  their  first  meeting  that  the  antelope  was  as 
likely  to  pair  with  the  elk,  as  was  his  sister  to 
choose  a  mate  among  the  chiefs  of  the  Osage 
©r  the  Lenape. 

•  On  the  return  of  the  two  Dela wares  from 
feeir  excursion  to  the  Muskingum,  Wingenund 
cad  related  to  Prairie-bird  the  heroic  gallantry 
with  which  the  young  vv'hite  chief  had  plunged 
into  the  river  to  save  War-Eagle's  life  ;  he  had 
» minted,  with  untutored  but  impassioned  elo- 
quence, the  courage,  the  gentleness,  the  gener- 
osity, of  his  new  friend.  Prairie-bird's  own 
imagination  had  filled  up  the  picture,  and  the 
unseen  preserver  of  her  Indian  brother  was 
therein  associated  with  all  the  highest  qualities 
t.at  adorned  the  heroes  of  such  tales  as  che  had 
read  or  heard  recounted  by  the  missionary. 

She  had  reached  that  age  when  the  female 
heart,  unsupported  by  maternal  protection,  and 
severed  from  the  ties  of  kindred,  naturally  seeks 
for  something  on  which  to  rest  its  affection. 
Are  we  then  to  wonder  if,  when  Reginald  Bran- 
don first  stood  befoje  her,  when  she  saw  in  his 
noble  form  and  expressive  features  all  her  se- 
o-ret  imaginations  more  than  realized,  when  he 
addressed  her  in  her  own  tongue,  and  in  a  tone 
of  voice  gentle  even  to  tenderness  ;  are  we  to 
wonder,  or  to  blame,  this  nursling  of  the  wil- 
derness, if  the  barriers  of  pride  and  reserve  gave 
way  beneath  the  flood  which  swept  over  them 
with  fresh  and  irresistible  force]  Often  had 
she,  on  various  pretexts,  made  Wingenund  re- 
peat to  her  the  adventures  and  occurrences  of 
his  excursion  to  the  Ohio  ;  and  as  the  artless  boy 
described,  in  language  as  clear  as  his  memory 
was  tenacious,  the  dwelling  of  Reginald's  father, 
the  range  of  buildings,  the  strange  furniture,  the 
garden,  the  winding  brook  that  bounded  its  en- 
cAisure,  and  above  all  the  fair  features  and  win- 
ning gentleness  of  the  Lily  of  Mooshanne, 
Prairie-bird  would  cover  her  averted  face  with 
her  hands,  as  if  struggling  to  banish  or  to  recal 
some  wild  delusive  dream,  and  her  lips  would 
move  in  unconscious  repetition  of  "  Mooshan- 
ne. '  Surprised  at  her  agitation,  Wingenund 
had  once  so  far  laid  aside  the  strictness  of  In- 


dian reserve  as  to  inquire  into  its  cause,  anc 
she  replied,  with  a  melancholy  smile, 

"  Wingenund  has  painted  the  Lily  of  Moos 
hanne  in  colours  so  soft  and  sweet,  that  Olitip? 
longs  to  embrace  and  love  her  as  a  sister." 

The  boy  fixed  his  penetrating  eye  upon  he? 
countenance,  in  deep  expressive  silence,  bul 
the  innate  delicacy  of  his  feeling  triumphed,  ano 
Prairie-bird's  secret  meditations  were  thence 
forward  undisturbed. 

To  return  from  this  retrospective  digression 
Prairie-bird's  tent  was  divided,  by  a  partition  of 
buffalo  skins,  inlo  two  compartments,  in  the 
outer  of  which  were  her  guitar,  the  books  lent 
her  by  the  missionary,  a  small  table  and  twc 
chairs  or  rather  stools,  the  latter  rudely  but  ef- 
ficiently constructed  by  his  own  hands ;  in  the 
corner  also  stood  the  chest,  where  his  medi- 
cines, instruments,  and  other  few  valuables 
were  deposited  ;  in  the  inner  compartment  waa 
a  bed,  composed  of  Mexican  grass,  stretched 
upon  four  wooden  feet,  and  covered  with  dress- 
ed antelope  skins  and  blankets  of  the  finest 
quality.  Here  also  was  a  chest  containing  her 
quaint  but  not  ungraceful  apparel,  and  the  other 
requisites  for  her  simple  toilet ;  at  night  a  fe- 
male slave,  a  captive  taken  from  one  of  the 
southern  tribes,  slept  in  the  outer  compartment, 
and'  the  ever  watchful  Wingenund  stretched 
himself  on  a  buffalo  robe  across  the  aperture, 
so  that  the  slumbers  of  the  fair  Prairie-bird 
were  securely  guarded  even  during  the  absence 
of  Paul  Miiller  ;  and  when  he  was  with  the 
tribe,  his  small  tent  was  separated  from  hers 
only  by  a  partition  of  skins,  which  in  case  of 
alarm  might  be  cut  open  by  a  shar'p  knife  in  z. 
moment.  Tbere  was,  in  truth,  little  fear  for 
the  security  of  this  extraordinary  girl,  who  was 
looked  upon,  as  we  have  before  observed,  by  all 
the  tribe  with  mingled  awe  and  affection. 

In  the  outer  of  the  two  compartments  above- 
mentioned  she  was  now  sitting,  with  her  eyes 
cast  upon  the  ground,  and  her  fingers  straym^ 
unconsciously  over  the  strings  of  her  guitar, 
when  she  was  aroused  from  her  long  reverie  tv 
the  soft  voice  of  the  female  slave  who  had  eti- 
tered  unperceived,  and  who  now  said  in  the 
Delaware  tongue, 

"  Are  Olitipa's  ears  shut,  and  is  the  voice  of 
Wingenund  strange  to  themi" 

"Is  my  brother  there  !"  replied  the  maiden, 
ashamed  at  her  fit  of  absence  ;  "  tell  him,  Lita, 
that  he  is  welcome." 

The  girl  addressed  by  the  name  of  Lita  was 
about  seventeen  years  of  age,  small,  and  deli- 
cately formed,  exceedingly  dark,  her  wild  and 
changeful  countenance  being  rather  of  a  gipsy 
than  of  an  Indian  character.  She  had  been  ta- 
ken, when  a  child,  by  a  war-party  which  had 
penetrated  into  the  country  of  the  Comanches, 
a  powerful  and  warlike  tribd  still  inhabiting  the 
exten.-  vp  prairies  on  the  Mexican  and  Tex- 
ian  fn.i  i,-r.  She  was  devotedly  attached  to 
Prairie-I  rd,  who  treated  her  more  like  a  friend 
than  a  slave,  but  towards  all  others  she  obser- 
ved a  habitual  and  somewhat  haughty  silence ; 
had  her  fate  condemned  her  to  any  other  lodge 
in  the  encampment,  the  poor  girl's  life  would 
have  been  a  continued  succession  of  blows,  la- 
bour, and  suffering  ;  for  her  spirit  was  indomi- 
table, and  impracticable  to  every  other  control 
than  kindness ;  but  as  the  good-humoured  Ta 


76 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


menund  had  appropriated  her  services  to  his 
favourite  child,  she  passed  most  of  her  time  in 
OUtipa's  lent,  and  thus  avoided  the  ill-usage  to 
which  she  migiit  otherwise  have  been  exposed. 

Such  was  the  girl  who  now  went  to  the  fold- 
ing aperture  of  the  tent,  and  desired  Wingcn- 
und  to  come  in.  The  youth  entered,  followed 
by  a  hoy  bearing  a  large  covered  dish  or  basket 
of  wicker-work,  which  having  placed  on  the 
table,  he  withdrew.  Prairie-bird  could  not  fail 
to  observe  in  her  young  brollier's  countenance 
and  carriage  an  unusual  stateliness  and  dignity, 
end  she  remarked  at  the  same  time,  the  circum- 
stance of  his  having  brought  with  him  the  boy 
to  carry  her  basket,  a  service  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  perform  with  his  own  hands. 
Making  him  a  sign  to  sit  down,  she  thus  accost- 
ed him  in  terms  allusive  to  the  customs  of  the 
tribe : — 

"  Has  my  young  brother  dreamed  1  has  the 
breath  of  the  Great  Spirit  passed  over  his 
sleep  V 

"  It  is  so,"  rephed  Wingenund.  "  The  chiefs 
and  the  braves  have  sat  at  the  council-fire  ;  the 
name  of  Wingenund  was  on  their  tongues,  the 
deeds  of  his  fathers  are  not  forgotten  ;  he  is  not 
to  do  the  work  of  squaws  ;  his  name  will  be 
heard  among  the  warriors  of  the  Lenape." 

From  this  reply  Prairie-bird  knew  that  her 
young  brother  was  about  to  undergo  the  fasting 
iuii  Other  superstitious  ordeals,  through  which 
those  youths  were  made  to  pass  who  wished  to 
be  enrolled  among  the  warriors  of  the  tribe  at 
an  earlier  age  than  usual ;  these  superstitious 
obervances  were  repugnant  to  her  good  sense 
and  enlightened  understanding,  and  as  she  had 
hitherto  acted  in  the  capacity  of  monitress  and 
instructress,  she  was  perhaps  not  pleased  at  the 
prospect  of  his  suddenly  breaking  loose  from 
her  gentle  dominion  ;  she  said  to  him,  there- 
fore, in  a  tone  more  grave  than  usual: 

"  Wingenund  has  heard  the  Black-Father 
speak  ;  were  his  ears  shut  1  does  he  not  know 
that  there  is  one  God  above,  who  rules  the 
world  alone  !  the  totems,*  and  the  symbols,  and 
the  dreams  of  the  medicine-men,  are  for  those 
poor  Indians  whose  minds  are  under  a  cloitd. 
Wingenund  cannot  believe  these  things!" 

"  My  sister  speaks  wisely,"  replied  the  youth ; 
"the  wind  cannot  blow  away  her  words;  but 
Wingenund  is  of  the  Lenape,  the  ancient  people ; 
he  wishes  to  live  and  die  among  their  braves  ; 
he  must  tiavel  in  the  path  that  his  fathers  have 
trod,  or  the  warriors  will  not  call  his  name  when 
the  hatchet  is  dug  up." 

"  Let  not  the  hatchet  be  dug  up,"  said  the 
maiden,  anxiously.  *  '•  Have  I  not  told  my  bro- 
ther that  God  is  the  avenger  of  blood  spilt  by 
man  1  why  should  his  foot  be  set  on  the  war- 
path r' 

"While  the  hatchet  is  below  the  earth," 
replied  the  youth,  in  the  low,  musical  accent  of 
his  tribe,  "  Wingenund  will  sit  by  his  sister  and 
listen  to  her  wisdom  ;  he  will  go  out  with  War- 
Eagle  and  bring  back  the  skin  of  the  antelope 


*  Every  warrior  belonging  to  the  Lenape,  Saukee,  and 
all  the  branches  of  the  great  Chippewyan  tribe,  believes 
himself  to  be  under  the  mysterious  guardianship  of  some 
gpirit,  usually  represented  under  the  form  of  an  animal. 
This  is  called  his  "  totem,"  and  is  held  sacred  by  him  ; 
thus,  a  warrior  whose  totem  is  a  tortoise,  or  a  wolf,  or 
even  a  snake,  will  cautiously  abstain  fiom  injuring  or 
lulUtis  one  of  those  animals 


or  the  doe  for  her  apparel,  the  meat  of  the  deei 
and  the  bison  for  her  food  ;  he  will  open  his 
ears  to  the  counsel  of  tlie  Black-Father,  and 
will  throw  a  thick  blanket  over  thoughts  of  strife 
and  blood.  But  if  the  Washashee"  (the  Osage) 
"bears  a  forked  tongue,"  (here  the  youth  sank 
his  voice  to  a  whisper  of  deep  meaning,)  "if  he 
loosens  the  scalp-knife  while  his  hand  is  on  the 
poacan,*  if  the  trail  of  the  Dahcotah  is  found 
near  our  village,  Wingenund  must  be  awake; 
he  is  not  a  child  ;  the  young  men  will  hear  his 
voice,  and  the  old  men  shall  say  "  He  is  the 
son  of  his  father."  It  is  enough  ;  let  my  sister 
eat  the  meat  that  War-Eagle  has  sent  her ;  for 
three  suns  Wingenund  tastes  not  food."         < 

So  saying,  the  lad  threw  his  robe  over  his 
shoulder  and  left  the  tent.  Prairie-bird  gazed 
long  and  thoughtfully  on  the  spot  where  her 
brother's  retreating  figure  had  disappeared  ;  she 
felt  grieved  that  all  the  lessons  and  truths  of 
Christianity  which  she  had  endeavoured  to 
instil  into  his  inind,  were  unable  to  change  the 
current  of  his  Indian  blood;  she  had  hoped  to 
see  him  become  a  civilized  man  and  a  convert, 
and  through  his  amiable  character,  and  the 
weight  of  his  name,  to  win  over  many  others 
of  the  Lenape  tribe ;  in  addition  to  this  disap- 
pointment, she  was  alarmed  at  the  purport  of 
his  parting  words ;  he  had  hinted  at  some 
treachery  on  the  part  of  their  0.sage  allies,  and 
that  a  trail  of  the  Dahcotahs  had  been  seen 
near  the  encampment.  These  subjects  of  anx- 
iety, added  to  the  excitement  which  her  feel- 
ings had  lately  undergone,  so  completely  en- 
grossed the  maiden's  attention,  that,  altliough 
the  corn-cakes  weve  of  the  sweetest  kind,  and 
the  venison  of  the  most  delicate  flavour,  the 
basket  of  provisions  remained  untouched  on  the 
table  when  Paul  Miiller  entered  the  tent. 

His  brow  was  grave  and  thoughtful,  but  hia 
countenance  relaxed  into  its  uisual  benevolent 
expression,  as  his  afllsctionate  pupil  sprang  for- 
ward to  greet  and  welcome  him. 

"  Dear  father,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come  !" 
she  exclaimed  ;  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  you 
most  impatiently,  and  I  have  been  in  need  of 
your  aid." 

"  I  heard,  my  child,  as  I  walked  through  the 
village,  that  you  had  been  tending  the  wounds 
of  a  boy  much  hurt  by  a  horse ;  was  the  hurt 
beyond  your  skilll" 

"Not  exactly,"  she  replied,  hesitating.  "It 
was  needful  that  blood  should  flow  from  his 
arm,  and,  as  you  were  not  there,  I  was  forced 
to  ask  the  assistance  of  Netis — that  is,  of  Reei- 
.nald." 

"  Well,"  said  the  missionary,  smiling,  "  I 
hope  he  proved  a  skilful  leech  V 

"  He  would  not  allow  me  to  look  on,"  she 
replied ;  "  but,  though  it  was  his  first  trial,  he 
drew  the  blood  and  staunched  it  as  skilfully  as 
you  could  have  done  it  yourself,  and  then  he 
walked  with  me  to  the  tent." 

"  And  you  conversed  much  by  the  way,"  en 
quired  the  missionary. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  and  he  made  me  tell  him  a  great 
deal  about  you,  and  I  was  ashamed  of  talking 
so  much  ;  but  then  he  told  me  that  it  gave  him 
pleasure  to  hear  me  talk.  How  can  it  please 
him  to  hear  me  talk,  dear  father  1  I  know  noth 
ing,  and  he  has  seen  and  read  so  much." 

* Anglici,  "the  pipe  '' 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


77 


Paul  Miiller  averted  his  face  for  a  moment  to 
onceal  from  her  the  smile  which  he  could 
scarcely  repress,  as  he  replied, 

"My  child,  he  has  perhaps  seen  and  read 
much,  but  the  life  and  habits  of  the  Indians  are 
new  to  him,  and  of  these  you  can  tell  him  many 
things  that  he  does  not  know." 

"  Tell  me,  dear  father,"  she  said,  after  a  short 
silence,  "  are  there  others  like  him  in  my  coun- 
try] I  mean,  not  exactly  like  him,  but  more 
like  him  than  the  traders  whom  I  have  seen  ; 
they  are  so  rough,  and  they  drink  fire-water, 
and  they  never  think  of  God  or  his  mercies ; 
but  he  is  so  noble,  his  countenance  made  me 
afraid  at  first,  but  now,  when  he  speaks  to  me, 
his  voice  is  as  gentle  as  the  fawn  calling  to  its 
dam  !" 

Paul  Miiller  saw  very  well  how  it  fared  with 
the  heart  of  Prairie-bird  ;  he  remembered  that 
Reginald  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  proprietor, 
who  would  probably  have  insuperable  objections 
to  his  son's  marrying  a  foundling  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  he  hesitated  whether  he  should  not 
give  her  some  warning  caution  on  a  subject 
which  he  foresaw  would  so  soon  affect  her 
peace  of  mind  ;  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  Reginald  was  a  man  of  generous 
and  decided  character,  and,  while  he  resolved 
carefully  to  observe  the  intercourse  between 
them,  he  would  not  mar  the  unsuspecting  purity 
')'■  her  nature,  nor  throw  any  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  an  attachment  which  he  believed  might 
'ead  to  the  happiness  of  both  parties.  In  com- 
ing to  this  conclusion,  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
.hat  hi  was  a  Moravian  missionary,  long  resi- 
dent 111  the  Far-west,  and,  therefore,  not  likely 
to  trouble  his  head  with  the  nice  distinctions  of 
European  aristocracy.  In  the  country  which 
was  now  his  home,  he  might  be  justified  in 
deeming  a  match  equal,  if  the  man  were  honest 
and  brave  and  the  bride  young  and  virtuous, 
without  reference  to  their  birth,  connexions,  or 
worldly  possessions.  Under  the  impression  of 
considerations  like  these,  the  missionary  replied 
to  the  maiden's  enquiry : 

"  My  child,  I  will  not  say  that  among  the 
cities  and  settlements  of  the  white  men,  there 
are  many  who  would  gain  by  comparison  with 
Reginald  Brandon,  for  not  only  has  he  the  ac- 
cidental advantages  of  fine  features,  and  a  form 
singularly  graceful  and  athletic,  but  he  seems 
to  me  to  possess  the  far  higher  a'nd  rarer  quali- 
ties of  a  modest,  generous  mind,  and  an  honest 
heart :  nevertheless,  my  child,  I  will  pray  you 
even  in  respect  to  him,  not  to  forget  what  I 
have  told  you  regarding  the  general  infirmity 
and  waywardness  of  our  nature,  keep  a  watch 
on  your  eyes  and  on  your  heart,  and  Providence 
will  rule  all  for  the  best : — we  will  speak  no 
more  on  this  subject  now ;  let  us  take  some 
food  from  the  basket  on  your  table."  Prairie- 
bird  spread  the  simple  meal  in  thoughtful  silence, 
and  when  the  missionary  had  asked  a  blessing 
on  it,  they  sat  down  together.  After  a  pause 
of  some  minutes  she  communicated  to  him  her 
anxiety  on  account  of  the  hints  dropped  by  Win- 
genund  respecting  the  suspected  treachery  of 
some  of  their  Osage  allies,  and  the  circumstance 
of  a  hostile  trail  having  been  discovered  near 
the  encampment.  "  It  is  too  true,"  replied  the 
missionary  gravely ;  "  there  are  signs  of  ap- 
proaching strife ;   and  even  that  boy,  whom  I 


have  so  long  endeavoured  to  instruct  and  lead 
aright,  his  blood  is  beginning  to  boil.  I  fear  it 
is  almost  as  hard  for  an  Indian  to  change  his 
nature  as  an  Ethiopian  his  skin.  He  has  told 
you  the  truth,  and  we  must  be  prepared  for  ap- 
proaching trouble." 

After  musing  for  a  few  moments,  Paul  Mu 
ler,  fixing  his  eye  on  Prairie-bird,  continued: 
"  Do  you  know  any  cause  of  quarrel  between 
the  Osage  and  Lenape  chiefs'!" 

"  None,"  replied  the  maiden  in  unaffected 
surprise.  "  How  should  I  knowl  1  go  not  near 
their  council-fire." 

"True,"  said  the  missionary;  "but  your 
eyes  are  not  often  shut  in  broad  day.  Have 
you  spoken  to  Mahega  of  late]  have  you  ob- 
served him  ]" 

"  He  has  spoken  to  me  more  than  once,  and 
often  meets  me  on  my  return  from  any  far 
lodge  in  the  village.  I  do  not  like  him ;  he  is 
fierce  and  bad,  and  he  beats  his  young  squaw, 
Wetopa." 

"  You  are  right,  my  child  ;  avoid  him  ;  there 
is  evil  in  that  man  ;  but  if  you  meet  him,  do  not 
show  any  dislike  or  suspicion  of  liim ;  you 
would  only  kindle  strife  ;  you  are  among  faith- 
ful and  watchful  friends,  and  if  they  were  all  to 
slumber  and  sleep,  you  have  a  Friend  above, 
whose  eye  is  never  closed,  and  whose  faithful- 
ness is  everlasting.  Farewell,  my  child.  I 
must  converse  awhile  with  Tamenund.  Do 
you  solace  an  hour  with  your  guitar ;  it  will  put 
your  unquiet  thoughts  to  rest." 

Prairie-bird  was  so  accustomed  to  pay  implicit 
obedience  to  the  slightest  wishes  and  si  {ges- 
tions  of  her  beloved  preceptor,  that  as  he  left 
the  tent  she  mechanically  took  up  the  guitar, 
and  passed  her  fingers  through  the  strings.  By 
degrees  the  soul  of  music  within  her  was  stirrec?, 
and  ere  long  vented  itself  in  the  following  hymn 

The  words  were  in  the  Delaware  tongu..\  \ui 
composed  by  herself, — the  melodies  (for  more 
than  one  were  introduced  into  the  irregular 
chaunt)  were  such  as  she  had  caught  or  min- 
gled from  Indian  minstrelsy,  and  the  whole 
owed  its  only  attraction  to  the  sweet  and  varied 
tones  of  her  voice.  The  first  measure  was  a 
low  recitative  vphich  might  be  thus  rendered  in 
English : — 

"  The  sun  sinks  behind  the  western  hills, 
Deep  red  are  the  curtains  of  his  couch. 
One  by  one  the  stars  appear ; 
Many  they  are  and  lustrous. 
The  pale  moon  is  among  them ! 
Tliey  walk  in  their  appointed  path. 
Singing  on  their  way,  '  God  made  us  all ! 

Machelenda  sutch  Ktelewunsoacan, 
or 

Hallowed  be  thy  name." 

Here  the  measure  changed,  and  sweeping  tha 
strings  with  a  bolder  hand,  she  continued  her 
untutored  hymn,  blending  her  Christian  creed 
with  the  figures  and  expressions  of  the  people 
among  whom  she  dwelt. 

"The  Great  Spirit  of  the  Lenape  is  God. 
He  has  sent  his  word  to  gladden  the  heart  of  man, 
But  clouds  still  darken  the  minds  of  the  ancient  people 
The  Great  Spirit  knows  that  they  are  blind  and  deaf. 
Yet  His  ear  is  open  to  hear, 
His  hand  is  ready  to  guide. 

(ut  supra) 
Hallowed  be  thy  name!" 

Agam  the  measure  changed,  as  in  the  richest 
tones  of  her  melodious  voice  she  pursued  her 
theme. 


78 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


'Slon  and  the  everlasting  mountains  are  thy  footstool ! 
Liglitnings  tiro  aliout  thy  tlirone. 
Thunder  is  lliy  voice,  m 

And  the  evil  spirit  trembles  before  thee  ! 
The  eiifile  cannot  soar  to  thy  habitation; 
Ills  eye  c:innot  look  on  thy  brightness; 
Yet  dost  thou  give  life  to  the  insect. 
Anil  treatli  to  the  merry  wren ! 
Thoi  .eadest  the  wild  horse  to  the  pasture, 
And  l)ie  thirsty  fawn  to    .^  stream. 
Hallowed  be  thy  name." 

Here  the  measure  resumed  its  low  and  plain- 
t  ve  melody  as  she  thus  concluded  her  song. 

Who  sings  the  praise  of  God  1 

It  is  '  I'rairie-bird,'  the  poor  child  of  the  wilderness. 

But  God  spurns  not  her  prayer; 

She  is  a  stray-leaf,  that  knows  not  the  tree 

Whence  the  rude  wind  hath  blown  it ; 

But  God  planted  the  parent  stem. 

And  not  a  branch  or  leaf  thereof  is  hid  from  his  sight. 

The  young  whip-poor-will  flies  to  its  mother's  nest, 

The  calf  bleats  to  the  bison-cow: 

No  mother's  voice  says  to  Olilipa,  'Come  here!' 

The  wide  prairie  is  her  home ! 

God  is  a  Father  to  Olitipa ! 

Hallowed  be  thy  name  !" 

In  singing  the  last  few  words,  the  tones  of 
her  voice  were  "most  musical,  most  melan- 
choly," and  th'jugh  no  human  eye  marked  the 
teardrop  that  stole  down  her  cheek,  it  would 
appear  that  her  song  had  excited  sympathy  in 
Bome  human  bosom,  for  a  deep  sigh  fell  upon 
her  ear ;  startled  at  the  sound,  Prairie-bird 
looked  round  her  tent,  but  no  one  could  be  seen  ; 
she  listened,  but  it  was  not  repeated,  and  the 
maiden  remained  unconscious  that  at  the  very 
first  touch  of  her  guitar  Reginald  had  crept  out 
of  the  adjoining  lodge,  and,  enveloped  in  a  buf- 
falo robe  on  the  grass  at  the  back  of  her  tent, 
had  heard  from  beginning  to  end  her  plaintive 
tymn,  and  had  paid  the  unconscious  tribute  of 
a  heavy  sigh  to  the  touching  pathos  of  its  closing 
Etrain. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Symptoms  of  a  Rupture  between  the  Delawares  and  Osa- 
ge.'.— Mah6ga  conies  forward  in  the  Character  of  a  Lover. 
-His  Courtship  receives  an  unexpected  Interruption. 

Paul  Muller,  having  left  the  lodge  of  Prairie- 
bird,  fulfilled  his  intention  of  entering  that  of 
Tamenund:  he  found  the  venerable  chieftain 
seated  upon  a  buffalo  robe ;  his  back  leaned 
against  a  bale  of  cloth,  a  highly  ornamented 
pipe-stem  at  his  lips,  while  from  its  other  extrem- 
ity, a  thin  column  of  smoke  rising  in  wavy  folds, 
found  its  way  out  of  the  accidental  rents  and 
crevices  in  tlie  skins  which  covered  the  lodge. 
War-Eagle  was  listening  in  an  altitude  of  re- 
spectful attention  to  the  words  which  fell  from 
his  father;  but  the  subject  of  conversation  was 
evidently  of  some  importance,  as  the  women  and 
the  youths  were  whispering  together  at  a  dis- 
tance frorri  the  two  principal  persons.  The  en- 
trance of  the  missionary  was  not  unnoticed,  for 
Tamenund  made  him  a  signal  to  draw  near  and 
sit  down ;  several  times  the  pipe  was  passed 
round  in  silence,  when  the  old  chief,  addressing 
his  guest  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  said,  "  The 
B'..a;k  Father  knows  that  there  are  dark  clouds 
In  the  sky !" 

"  He  does,"  replied  the  missionary.  A  glance 
of  intelligence  passed  between  War-Eagle  and 
Tamenund,  as  the  latter  proceeded. 

"  What  says  the  Black-Father  1  Is  the  storm 
to  break,  or  will  the  sun  shine  again  V 

"  The  Great  Spirit  only  knows,"  replied  the 


missionary ;  "  if  the  sun  shines,  we  will  be  thanlc 
ful,  if  the  storm  falls,  we  will  wrap  round  us  the 
cloak  of  patience." 

A  fierce  gleam  shot  from  the  young  chief's 
eye,  but  he  spoke  not  a  word  until  Tamenund 
addressed  him  thus:  "What  says  War-Eagle  1 
let  him  speak." 

"  The  snows  of  many  winters  arc  on  my  fa- 
ther's forehead;  the  Black-Father  has  learned 
wisdom  from  the  Great  Spirit;  it  is  more  fitting 
for  War-Eagle  to  listen  than  to  speak,"  replied 
the  young  man,  curbing  the  angry  thoughts  that 
glowed  in  his  breast. 

"Nay,  my  son,"  said  the  missionary,  "let 
War-Eagle  speak,  and  his  saying  be  aCterwardi 
weighed  by  the  aged  heads." 

War-Eagle  then  proceeded  to  explain  how 
Wingenund,  in  returning  from  the  turkey-pen, 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  distant  figure,  whom 
he  knew  at  a  glance  to  belong  to  another  tribe. 
Plastily  concealing  himself  among  the  bushes, 
he  waited  till  the  strange  Indian  passed,  and  then 
resolving  to  watch  hira,  crept  stealthily  on  his 
trail. 

Having  made  his  way  to  a  hollow  in  the 
thickest  part  of  the  forest,  he  sat  down  on  ihe 
stump  of  an  alder-tree,  where  he  made  and  twice 
repeated  a  low  signal  whistle,  which  was  soon 
answered  by  another  Indian,  who  approached  in 
an  opposite  direction,  and  in  whom,  to  his  great 
surprise,  Wingenund  recognised  Mah6ga.  He 
was  not  near  enough  to  overhear  their  conver- 
sation, neither  was  he  aware  whether  they  spoke 
in  the  Delaware  tongue,  but  after  conversing  in 
a  low  tone  for  some  minutes,  they  jcparated,  and 
Wingenund  again  put  himself  on  ihe  trail  of  the 
stranger ;  the  latter  frequently  stopped  in  his 
course,  looked  round  and  listened,  but  the  youth 
was  too  practised  and  sagacious  to  be  bafiled  by 
these  precautions,  and  finally  succeeded  in  track- 
ing the  object  of  his  pursuit  to  an  encampment 
containing  ten  or  a  dozen  armed  Indians,  whom 
he  knew  at  once  to  form  a  war-party,  but  could 
not  decide  to  what  tribe  they  belonged ;  he  suc- 
ceeded, however,  in  securing  a  mocassin  which 
one  of  them  had  dropped,  and  returned  unper- 
ceived  to  the  Delaware  village. 

Such  was  the  outline  of  the  occurrences  now 
rapidly  sketched  by  War-Eagle ;  and  in  conclu- 
ding his  narrative,  he  held  up  the  mocassin 
above-mentioned,  and  presented  it  to  the  aged 
chief.  The  latter  examined  it  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  and  restoring  it  to  the  warrior,  pro- 
nounced, in  a  low  guttural  tone,  the  word  "Dah- 
cotah." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  War-Eagle,  in  a  deep  whis- 
per, indicative  of  the  indignant  passion  that 
boiled  within ;  "  Yes,  the  Dahcotah  is  in  the 
woods  ;  he  prowls  like  a  prairie-wolf.  The 
Great  Spirit  has  made  him  a  dog,  and  if  he  sets 
his  foot  on  the  hunting-ground  of  the  Lenape,  let 
not  his  wife  complain  if  she  looks  along  his  path 
in  vain,  and  strikes  her  breast,  saying, '  The  wife 
of  the  Dahcotah  is  a  widow !'  but  the  Evil  Spirit 
has  crept  into  the  heart  of  the  Washashee,  a 
snake  is  in  the  council-chamber  of  the  Lenape, 
and  lies  are  on  the  tongue  of  Mahega!  Is  it 
enough,  or  must  War-Eagle  speak  more  1" 

"  The  words  of  my  son  are  hard,"  replied  Ta- 
menund, shaking  his  head  sorrowfully ;  "  the 
Dahcotah  are  dogs,  they  are  on  a  deer-hunt; 
their  heart  is  not  big  enough  to  make  them  dig 
up  the  hatchet  to  fight  with  the  Lenape.  Tame- 
nund cannot  believe  that  the  tongue  of  Mah6ga 
is  so  furked,  or  his  heart  so  black,  for  two  suns 


THE  PRAlRlE-BIRD. 


79 


have  not  passed  since  he  sat  and  smoked  in  this 
lodge,  and  spoke  of  Olitipa,  the  daughter  of  the 
Prairie  He  said  that  her  voice  was  music  to 
him,  that  her  form  was  in  his  dreams,  and  he 
asked  Tamenund  to  give  her  to  him  as  a  wife." 

At  these  words  the  suppressed  rage  of  the 
youthful  warrior  had  well  nigh  burst  the  iron 
bands  of  Indian  self-control ;  he  ground  his  teeth 
audibly  together,  his  dilated  form  trembled 
through  every  jierve  and  muscle,  but  observing 
the  keen  eye  of  the  missionary  fixed  upon  his 
countenance,  he  subdued  in  a  moment  the  rising 
tempest,  and  asked  in  a  voice,  the  forced  calm- 
ness of  which  was  fearful,  "What  said  my 
father  V 

Tamenund  replied  that  the  maiden  was  great 
medicine  in  the  tribe,  that  she  was  a  gift  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  that  her  dwelling  could  never 
be  in  the  lodge  of  an  Osage  chief  "  He  went 
away  without  speaking,"  added  the  old  man  se- 
riously ;  "  but  his  eye  spoke  bad  words  enough !" 

"  My  father  said  well,"  exclaimed  the  impetu- 
ous young  man  ;  •'  let  Mahega  seek  a  wife 
among  his  dog-brothers  .the  Dahcotahs !  War- 
Eagle  will  smoke  no  more  in  his  lodge." 

After  a  brief  pause,  Tamenund  continued, 

"  My  son  has  told  half  his  thoughts,  let  him 
speak  on." 

"  Nay,"  returned  the  young  warrior,  "  let  my 
father  consult  the  medicine,  and  the  counsellors 
who  have  seen  many  winters:  War-Eagle  will 
whisper  to  his  braves,  and  when  the  ancient 
men  in  council  have  spoken,  he  will  be  ready." 

With  this  ambiguous  answer,  he  folded  his 
buffalo  robe  over  his  shoulder  and  left  the  lodge. 

The  missionary  saw  that  mischief  was  brew- 
ing, yet  knew  not  how  to  prevent  it.  He  had 
gained  extraordinary  influence  among  the  Dela- 
wares  by  never  interfering  in  their  councils, 
unless  when  he  felt  assured  that  the  result  would 
justify  the  advice  which  he  offered,  but  on  the 
present  occasion  it  was  evident  that  his  Indian 
friends  had  sufiicient  grounds  for  suspecting 
their  Osage  allies  of  treachery ;  he  resolved, 
therefore,  to  wait  and  observe,  before  making 
those  attempts  at  reconciliation  which  became 
his  character  and  his  mission.  Influenced  by 
this  determination,  he  spoke  a  few  words  to  the 
aged  chief  on  indifferent  matters,  and  shortly 
afterwards  retired  to  his  own  lodge. 

During  the  preceding  conversation  Baptiste 
had  been  seated  at  a  little  distance,  his  whole  at- 
tention apparently  engaged  in  mending  a  rent  in 
his  mocassins,  but  scarcely  a  word  had  escaped 
his  watchful  ear,  and  wh^le  he  heard  with  secret 
delight  that  there  was  every  chance  of  a  fight 
with  the  Sioux,  towards  whom  he  cherished,  as 
we  have  before  observed,  an  unextinguished  ha- 
tred, he  could  not  view,  without  much  uneasi- 
ness, the  dangerous  position  in  which  Reginald's 
party  might  be  placed  by  a  rupture  between  the 
Delawares  and  Osages,  in  a  wild  region  where 
either  party  might  soon  obtain  the  ready  aid  of 
the  Pawnees,  or  some  other  warlike  and  maraud- 
ing tribe ;  he  resolved,  however,  for  the  present 
to  content  himself  with  putting  his  young  leader 
on  his  guard,  reserving  a  fuller  explanation  until 
he  should  have  been  able  to  ascertain  the  inten- 
tions of  his  Delaware  friends :  in  this  last  en- 
deavour he  did  not  anticipate  much  difficulty,  for 
the  experienced  woodsman  had  proved  his  stead- 
iness to  them  in  many  a  fray,  and  his  courage 
and  skill  were  no  less  proverbial  among  them 
than  was  his  mortal  enmity  to  the  Dahcotahs. 

Nothing  occurred  during  the  ensuing  night  to 


disturb  the  quiet  of  the  encampjient,  if  that  may 
be  denominated  quiet  which  was  constantly  in- 
terrupted by  the  chattering  of  wakeful  squaws, 
the  barking  of  dogs,  the  occasional  chaunt  of  a 
warrior,  and  the  distant  howling  of  hungry 
wolves ;  our  hero's  dreams  were,  like  his  waking 
thoughts,  full  only  of  Prairie-bird ;  and  when  he 
rose  at  daybreak  he  expressed  no  wish  to  roam 
or  hunt,  but  lingered  within  view  of  that  small 
circular  lodge,  which  contained  the  treasure 
that  he  valued  most  on  earth.  To  the  cautious 
warning  of  Baptiste  he  answered,  smiling,  "You 
confess  yourself  that  you  only  suspect ;  you 
know  our  friends  and  their  language,  thei- 
wiles,  and  their  stratagems.  I  trust  the  safety  o( 
my  party  to  your  sagacity ;  if  your  suspicions 
are  turned  to  certainty,  tell  me,  and  1  am  ready 
to  act." 

As  the  young  man  left  the  lodge  without  evet 
taking  his  cutlass  or  his  rifle,  Baptiste  looki'if 
after  him,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  adding  in  at- 
under  tone,  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard  bj 
Monsieur  Perrot,  who  sat  at  his  side, 

"'Suspicion,'  'certainty,'  'sagacity' — whj 
surely  he  is  mad  !  he  talks  as  if  plots  and  plam 
were  measured  out  by  rule  among  the  Red-skins, 
as  they  may  be  'mong  lords  and  princes  in  Eu 
rope!  this  comes  of  his  towering,  as  they  call  it, 
amongst  the  Dutch  and  other  outlandish  tribes 
Surely  he's  lived  enough  in  the  territory  to  know 
^that  with  these  Ingians,  and  special  near  a  Sioux 
trail,  the  first  suspicion  a  man  is  like  to  get  is 
an  arrow  in  his  ribs  or  a  tomahawk  in  his  brain 
Capote-bleu,  Maitre  Perrot,  what  do  you  think 
of  your  master,  is  he  mad!" 

"  Very  much  mad,"  said  the  good-humoured 
valet,  grinning,  while  he  continued  assiduously 
to  pound  some  cofl>e-beans  which  he  was  pre- 
paring for  breakfast;  "very  much  mad,  Mon- 
sieur Baptiste;  he  very  mad  to  leave  Paris  to 
go  to  his  fox-huntin'  oncle  in  England ;  he  more 
mad  to  leave  dat  for  the  back-woods  by  de  Mus- 
kingum; but  he  dam  mad  to  leave  Mooshanne 
to  come  here  where  dere  is  nothing  but  naked 
savages  and  naked  prairies." 

"  Ah  !  Maitre  Perrot,"  replied  the  guide,  "my 
father  was  a  Canada  Frenchman,  and  although 
he'  was,  mayhap,  never  further  east  than  Mon- 
treal, he  was  as  fond  of  talking  of  Paris  as  a 
bear  is  of  climbing  a  bee-tree  !"* 

"He  very  right.  Monsieur  Ba'tiste;  de  world 
without  Paris  is  no  more  dan  a  woman  widout 
a  tongue ;  but  as  you  know  our  language,  I  will 
speak  it  to  you,  for  pronouncing  English  is  no 
better  dan  breaking  stones  wid  your  teeth  !'■ 
And  the  merry  valet  forthwith  inflicted  upon 
his  graver  companion  a  Parisian  tirade,  that 
very  soon  went  beyond  the  latter's  stock  of  Cana^ 
dian  French. 

The  morning  dawned  with  unusual  splendour, 
the  sun  gradually  rose  over  the  wooded  hills  that 
bounded  the  eastern  horizon,  and  the  light  breeze 
shook  the  dewdrops  from  the  flowers,  as  Prairie- 
bird,  fresh  and  lovely  as  the  scene  around  her, 
tripped  lightly  over  the  grass  to  the  sequestered 
spot  which  we  have  before  mentioned  as  being 
her  favourite  resort ;  there,  seated  at  the  root  oT 


*  An  allusion  to  the  fondness  of  bears  for  honey  occun 
more  than  once  in  this  tale,  and  will  be  met  with  in  some 
shape  or  other  in  most  works  which  treat  of  that  animal's 
habits  and  propensities  :  that  snch  is  the  case  in  Europe  a» 
well  as  in  North  America,  may  be  gathered  from  the  facl 
that  in  the  Russian  tongTie,  a  Bear  is  called,  "Med-vede," 
which  word  is  thus  formed ;  med,  honey,  vede,  who  knows  ( 
'  "^He  who  knows  honey.", 


80 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


yhe  aged  troe  where  Reginald  had  first  seen  her, 
she  opened  the  volume  which  was  her  constant 
lompanion,  and  poured  forth  the  grateful  feel- 
ings of  her  heart,  in  the  words  of  the  inspired 
Prophet-King;  at  her  leet  tlowed  the  brawling 
stream  which  fed  the  valley  below  the  encamjv 
ment;  the  merry  birds  sang  their  matins  among 
the  leafy  branches  above  her  head,  and  around 
her  sprang  sweet-scented  tlowers  and  blossoms 
of  a  thousand  varied  hues.  There  are  some 
spotj,  and  some  brief  seasons  on  earili,  so  redo- 
lent of  freshness,  beauty,  and  repose,  as  almost 
to  revive  the  Paradise  lost  by  our  first  parents, 
but  soon,  too  soon,  the^  etibcts  of  primeval  sin 
and  its  punishment  are  fell,  and  the  atmosphere 
of  heavenly  peace  is  tainted  by  the  miasma  of 
human  passion  ! 

Prairie-bird  had  enjoyed  for  some  time  her 
study  and  her  meditations  undisturbed,  when 
her  attention  was  cauglit  by  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching footsteps  ;  the  conscious  blood  rushed 
to  her  check  as  she  expected  to  see  the  same 
visitor  who  had  so  suddenly  presented  himself 
on  the  preceding  day,  when  to  her  surprise  and 
annoyance,  the  ,'igantic  figure  of  Mahega  stood 
before  her  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  streamlet 
by  which  she  was  seated ;  although  simple,  un- 
suspecting, and  fearless  by  nature,  there  was 
something  in  the  countenance  and  bearing  of  this 
formidable  chief  that  had  always  inspired  her 
with  mingled  dislike  and  awe;  remembering  on 
the  present  occasion  the  hint  lately  given  to  her  by 
the  Missionarv,  she  returned  the  haughty  greet- 
ing of  the  Indian  by  a  gentle  inclination  of  her 
head,  and  then  summoned  composure  enough 
to  continue  her  reading,  as  if  desirous  to  avoid 
conversation;  such,  however,  was  not  Mahega's 
intention,  who  softening,  as  far  as  ha  was  able, 
the  rough  tones  of  his  voice,  addressed  to  her, 
in  the  Delaware  tongue,  a  string  of  the  finest 
Indian  compliments  on  her  beauty  and  attrac- 
tions. To  these  the  maiden  coldly  replied,  by 
telling  him  that  she  thanked  him  for  his  good 
words,  but  that  as  she  was  studying  the  com- 
mands of  the  Great  Spirit,  she  wished  not  to  be 
disturbed. 

Mahega,  nothing  checked  by  this  reply,  con- 
tinued to  ply  her  with  prutestaiions  and  prom- 
ises, and  concluded  by  telling  her  that  she  must 
be  his  wife;  that  he  was  a  warrior,  and  would 
fill  her  wigwam  with  spoils  and  trophies.  As 
he  proceeded,  his  countenance  became  more 
excited,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice  had  already 
more  of  threat  than  of  entreaty.  Prairie-bird 
replied  with  forced  calmness,  that  she  knew  he 
was  a  great  warrior,  but  that  she  could  not  be 
his  wife;  their  paths  were  diflferent;  his  led  to 
war,  and  spoils,  and  power  in  ruling  his  tribe; 
hers  to  '.ending  the  sick  and  fulfilling  the  com- 
mands oj"the  Great  Spirit  given  in  the  "  Medicine 
Book."  Irritated  by  the  firm  though  gentle  tone 
of  her  reply,  the  violent  passion  of  the  chief 
broke  out  in  a  torrent  of  harsh  and  menacing 
words ;  he  called  her  a  foundling  and  a  slave ; 
adding,  that  in  spite  of  the  Delaware  squaws 
and  their  white  allies,  she  should  sleep  in  his 
.edge,  although  the  honour  was  greater  than  she 
deserved. 

Fired  with  indignation  at  this  brutal  menace, 
the  spirited  girl  rose  from  her  seat,  and  looking 
him  full  in  the  face,  replied,  "  Prairie-bird  is  a 
foundling;  if  Mahega  knows  his  parents,  he  dis- 
graces their  name ;  she  would  rather  be  the 
slave  of  Tamenund  than  the  wif'  of  Mahega." 

A  demoniac  grin  stole  over  the  features  of  the 


savage,  as  he  replied :  "  The  words  of  Olitipa 
are  bitter.  Mahega  laughs  at  her  anger;  she  is 
alone  and  unprotected ;  will  she  walk  to  hi? 
lodge,  or  must  the  warrior  carry  her?" 

So  saying,  he  advanced  to  'he  very  edge  of  the 
narrow  stream  !  The  maiden,  alihough  alarm- 
ed, retained  sullicient  presence  of  mind  to  know 
that  to  save  herself  by  flight  was  impossible, 
but  the  courage  of  insulted  viitue  supported  her, 
and  she  answered  him  in  a  ton^  that  breathed 
more  of  indignation  than  of  fear. 

"  Olitipa  is  not  alone — is  not  unprotected  ! 
The  Great  Spirit  is  her  protector,  belore  whom 
the  stature  of  Mahega  is  as  a  blade  of  grass, 
and  his  strength  like  that  of  an  infant.  See," 
she  continued,  drawing  from  her  girdle  a  small 
sharp-pointed  dagger,  "  Olitipa  is  not  unpro- 
tected ;  if  Mahega  moves  a  foot  to  cross  that 
stream  this  kniie  shall  reach  her  heart;  and  the 
great  Mahega  will  go  to  the  hunting  fields  of  the 
dead,  a  coward,  and  a  woman-slayer." 

As  she  spoke  these  words  she  held  the  dagger 
pointed  to  her  bosom  now  heaving  with  high 
emotion;  her  form  seemed  to  dilate,  and  her 
dark  eye  kindled  with  a  prouder  lustre.  The 
glow  on  her  cheek,  and  the  lofty  dignity  of  her 
attitude,  only  heightened  her  beauty  in  the  eyes 
of  the  savage,  and  confirmed  him  in  carrj'ing 
out  his  fell  purpose,  to  ensure  the  success  of 
which  he  saw  that  stratagem,  not  force,  must  be 
icmployed  ;  assuming,  therefore,  a  sarcastic  tone 
of  voice,  he  replied, 

"  Oli'ipa  trusts  to  the  edge  of  her  knife  ;  Ma- 
hega laughs  at  her."  Then  he  continued  in  a 
louder  key,  as  if  addressing  an  Indian  behind 
her,  "  Let  Wanemi  seize  her  arm  and  hold  it." 

As  the  surprised  maiden  turned  her  head  in 
the  direction  where  she  expected  to  see  the  In- 
dian to  whom  Mahega  was  speaking,  that  crafty 
chief  cleared  the  brook  at  a  bound,  and  seizing 
her  waist,  while  a  smile  of  triumph  lit  up  his 
features,  said,  "  The  pretty  one  is  Mahega's 
prisoner;  there  is  no  one  here  but  himself;  a 
cunning  tale  tickled  the  ears  of  Olitipa." 

The  hapless  girl  saw  how  she  had  been  out- 
witted by  the  savage.  She  struggled  in  vain  to 
free  herself  from  his  grasp,  and  a  faint  scream 
of  despair  broke  fronr  her  lips. 

The  spring  of  a  famished  tiger  on  a  heifer  is 
not  more  fiercely  impetuous  than  was  the  bound 
with  which  Reginald  Brandon  rushed  from  the 
adjacent  thicket  upon  Mahega, — reckless  of  his 
opponent's  huge  bulk  and  strength,  forgetful 
that  he  was  himself  unarmed.  The  cry  of 
Prairie-bird  had  strung  with  tenfold  power  ev- 
ery sinew  in  his  athletic  frame;  seizing  with 
both  hands  the  throat  of  Mahega,  he  grasped  it.> 
with  such  deadly  force  that  the  Indian  was  com-'" 
pelled  to  release  his  hold  of  the  maiden, — but  he 
still  retained  her  knife,  and  in  the  struggle  plun- 
ged it  into  the  arm  and  shoulder  of  Reginald, 
who  relaxed  not,  however,  his  iron  grasp,  Du: 
still  bore  his  opponent  backward,  until  the  foot 
of  the  latter  tripped  over  a  projecting  root,  and 
he  fell  with  tremendous  force  upon  his  head, 
the  blood  gushing  in  torrents  from  his  nose  and 
mouth.  Reginald,  who  had  been  dragged  down 
in  his  fall,  seized  the  dagger,  and,  as  he  raised 
it  above  his  head,  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his 
arm,  and  turning«round  saw  Prairie-bird  kneel- 
ing at  his  side,  her  face  pale  as  monuraenta 
marble,  and  the  sacred  volume  still  clasped  in 
her  hand. 

"  Kill  him  not,  Reginald,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
impressive  voice;  "Vengeance  is  mine,  saith 
the  Lord!" 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


81 


tSreatCilcsb,  and  flushed  with  the  late  severe 
Mtug^le,  the  young  man  replied,  "  I  will  spare 
ihe  villain,  dear  Prairie-bird,  at  your  bidding ;  he 
.s  stunned  and  senseless  now,  but  he  will  soon 
recover,  and  his  fury  and  thirst  for  revenge  will 
Know  no  bounds;  he  shall  know,  however,  that 
1  huve  spared  him."  So  saying  he  cut  off  the 
dyed  and  ornamented  scalp  lock  from  the  top  of 
Mahega's  head,  and  laying  it  beside  the  prostrate 
chieftain,  arose,  and  retired  with  Prairie-bird 
from  the  spot. 

They  walked  together  some  distance  in  silence, 
for  her  heart  wa?  overcharged  with  contending 
emotions,  and  as  they  went  she  unconsciously 
clung  to  his  arm  for  support;  at  length  she  stop- 
ped, and  looking  up  in  his  face,  her  eyes  glisten- 
ing with  tears,  she  said, 

"  How  am  1  ever  to  thank  you?  my  first  debt 
of  gratitude  is  due  to  Heaven;  but  you  have 
been  its  brave,  its  blessed  instrument  of  my  de- 
liverance from  worse  than  death  !"  and  a  shudder 
passed  over  her  frame  as  the  rude  grasp  of  Ma- 
hega  recurred  to  her  remembrance. 

"  Dear  Prairie-bird,"  he  replied;  "as  a  man  I 
would  have  done  as  much  for  the  poorest  and 
most  indifferent  of  your  sex — how  then  am  I  re- 
paid a  thousand,  thousand  fold  by  having  been 
allowed  to  serve  a  being  so  precious !"  The 
deep  mellow  tone  in  which  he  spoke  these  words, 
and  the  look  by  which  they  were  accompanied, 
brought  the  truant  colour  again  to  the  cheek  of 
his  companion,  and  as  she  cast  her  full  dark  eyes 
downward,  they  rested  on  the  arm  that  support- 
ed her,  and  she  saw  that  his  sleeve  was  stained 
and  dropping  with  blood ! 

"  Oh !  you  are  wounded,  badly  hurt,  I  fear. 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  Reginald,"  she  continued,  with 
an  intensity  of  anxiety  that  her  expressive  coun- 
tenance betrayed,  "are  you  badly  hurtl" 

"Indeed,  dear  Prairie-bird,  I  cannot  tell  you; 
1  felt  the  Indian  strike  me  twice  with  the  dagger 
before  he  fell ;  I  do  not  think  the  wounds  are  se- 
rious, for  you  see  I  can  walk  and  assist  your 
steps  too." 

While  he  thus  spoke  he  was,  however,  grow- 
ing faint  from  loss  of  blood,  and  the  wound  in  his 
shoulder,  having  become  cold  and  stiff,  gave  him 
exquisite  pain.  Prairie-bird  was  not  deceived 
by  the  cheerfulness  of  his  manner;  she  saw  the 
paleness  that  was  gradually  stealing  over  his 
countenance,  and  with  ready  presence  of  mind, 
insisted  on  his  sitting  down  on  the  trunk  of  a 
fallen  tree  beside  their  path.  Tiie  suffering  con- 
dition of  Reginald  redoubled  instead  of  paraly- 
zing her  energies;  she  filled  his  cap  with  fresh 
water  from  the  brook,  urged  him  to  taste  a  few 
Irops,  and  sprinkled  more  ever  his  face  and 
lemples;  then  ripping  up  the  sleeve  of  his  hunt- 
ing shirt,  she  found  the  blood  still  welling  from 
two  severe  wounds  between  the  elbow  and 
shoulder  in  the  left  arm;  these  she  bathed  and 
carefully  closed,  applying  to  them  a  healing 
salve  which  she  drew  from  the  small  bag  that 
she  wore  at  her  girdle,  after  which  she  bandaged 
the  arm  firmly  with  her  kerchief,  then,  kneeling 
beside  him,  strove  to  read  in  his  face  the  suc- 
.  cess  of  her  simple  surgery. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  dizzy  sen- 
sation of  faintness,  that  had  been  produced  by 
loss-  of  blood,  passed  away,  and  the  delighted 
Prairie-bird,  seeing  on  his  countenance  the 
beaming  smile  of  returning  consciousness  and 
strength,  murmured  to  herself,  "  Oh !  God,  I 
thank  thee!"  then  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands, 
\    wept  with  mingled  emotion  and  gratitude.    Re- 


ginald heard  the  words,  he  marked  the  tearr,  and 
no  longer  able  to  suppress  the  feelings  with 
which  his  heart  overflowed,  he  drew  her  g-ently 
tow^ards  him  with  his  yet  unwounded  arm,  and 
whispered  in  her  ear  the  outpourings  of  a  first, 
fond,  passionate  love ! 

No  reply  came  from  her  lips,  her  tears  (tears  of 
intense  emotion)  flowed  yet  faster;  but  a  sensi- 
ble pressure  on  the  part  of  the  little  hand  which 
he  clasped  within  his  own,  gave  him  the  blest 
assurance  that  his  love  was  returned ;  and  again 
and  again  did  he  repeat  those  sacred  and  impas- 
sioned vows  by  which  the  hopes,  the  fears,  the 
fortunes,  the  aflections,  the  very  existence  of  two 
immortal  beings,  are  inseparably  blended  togeth- 
er. Her  unresisting  hand  remainea  clasped  in 
his,  and  her  head  leaned  upon  his  shoulder,  that 
she  might  conceal  the  blushes  that  suffused  her 
countenance ;  still  he  would  not  be  satisfied  with- 
out a  verbal  answer  to  his  thrice  urged  prayer 
that  he  might  call  her  his  own;  and  when  at 
length  she  raised  her  beaming  eyes  to  his,  and 
audibly  whispered  "  For  ever,"  he  sealed  upon 
those  sweet  lips  the  contract  of  unchanged  affec- 
tion. 

Bright,  transitory  moments  of  bliss!  lightning 
flashes  that  illumine  the  dark  and  stormy  path 
of  life,  though  momentary  in  your  duration  how 
mighty  in  your  power,  how  lasting  in  your  ef- 
fects I  Sometimes  imparting  a  rapturous  glow 
and  kindling  an  unceasing  heat  that  death  itself 
cannot  extinguish,  and  sometimes  under  a  star 
of  evil  destiny  searing  and  withering  the  heart 
rendered  desolate  by  your  scorching  flame ! 

It  is  not  necessary  to  inform  the  gentle  reader 
how  long  the  Utc-a-Ule  on  the  fallen  tree  contin- 
ued; suffice  it  to  say  that  Prairie-bird  forgot  her 
fright,  and  Reginald  his  wounds;  and  when  they 
returned  to  the  village,  each  sought  to  enjoy  in 
solitude  those  delicious  reveries  which  deserve 
certainly  the  second  place  in  love's  catalogue  of 
happiness. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Ethelston  prepares  to  leave  Mooshaime. — Mah^Era  appears 
as  an  Orator,  in  which  Character  he  succeeds  better  than 
in  that  of  a  Lover. — A  Storm  succeeded  by  a  Calm. 

While  the  events  described  in  the  last  chap- 
ters were  in  progress,  the  hours  sped  smoothly 
onward  at  Mooshanne.  Lucy  and  Ethelston 
thought  themselves  justly  entitled  to  a  liberal 
compensation  for  the  trials  of  their  long  separa- 
tion, and  as  the  spring  advanced,  morning  and 
evening  generally  found  them  strolling  together, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  its  opening  beauties.  Some- 
times Aunt  Mary  encountered  them  during  the 
busy  round  of  her  visits  to  the  poultry,  the  pig- 
gery, or  to  the  cottage  of  some  neighbour,  whith- 
er sorrow  or  sickness  called  her.  The  mate  fre- 
quently came  over  from  Marietta  to  see  his  cap- 
tain, and  to  inquire  whether  there  was  no  early 
prospect  of  another  voyage,  for  he  already  began 
to  find  that  Time  travelled  slowly  ashore;  anc 
although  he  consoled  himself,  now  and  ther 
with  a  pipe  and  social  glass  in  David  Muir's- 
back  parlour,  he  longed  to  be  afloat  again,  ana 
told  the  worthy  merchant,  that  he  would  rather 
have  made  the  fresh-water  trip  in  the  canoe, 
than  be  laid  up  in  dock,  while  he  felt  his  old  hull 
still  stout  and  seaworthy.  His  son  Henry  con- 
tinued to  advance  in  the  good  graces  of  Jessie 
Muir,  but  unfortunately  for  the  youth  his  fathe- 


82 


THE    PRAIRxE-BIRD. 


had  discovered  his  attachment,  and  lost  no  op- 
portunity of  bantering  him  in  the  presence  of 
the  young  lady,  accompanying  his  jokes  with 
sundry  grins,  and  severe  pokes  in  the  ril^s,  wh'ich 
caused  sometimes  a  disagreeable  alternation  of 
vexation  and  confusion;  nevertheless.  David 
Muij-  remained  habitually  blind  lo  the  stale  of 
his  daughter's  affections,  and  Dame  Christie 
was  a  great  deal  too  much  occupied  with  the 
cares  of  domestic  government  (including  the  oc- 
casional lectures  and  reproofs  administered  to 
David),  to  admit  of  her  troubling  her  head  with, 
what  siie  would  have  termed,  their  childish  fan- 
cies. 

Such  was  the  general  state  of  affairs  on  the 
banks  of  the  Muskingum,  when  Colonel  Bran- 
don received  letters  from  St.  Louis,  informing 
him  that,  since  the  departure  of  his  son,  various 
disputes  had  arisen  between  the  agents  of  the 
different  companies,  and  that  unless  a  speedy 
and  amicable  arrangement  could  be  effected,  a 
heavy  loss  must  necessarily  fall  upon  the  fur 
proprietors  and  others  inteTested  in  the  specula- 
tion. By  the  same  post,  a  letter,  bearing  a  for- 
eign postmark,  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  Eth- 
elston,  during  the  perusal  ofv/hich,an  expression 
of  sadness  spread  itself  over  his  countenance, 
and  he  fell  abstractedly  into  a  reverie,  the  sub- 
ject of  which  was  evidently  of  a  painful  nature. 
Such  indications  were  not  likely  to  escape  the 
anxious  and  observant  eye  of  love,  and  Lucy, 
laying  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm,  said,  in 'a 
tone  half  joking,  half  serious,  '■  Am  I  not  entitled 
to  know  all  your  secrets  now,  Edward  1" 

"  I  think  not,"  he  replied  in  the  same  tone, 
"  and  I  am  rather  disposed  to  refuse  gratifying 
your  curiosity,  until  you  consent  to  acquiring 
such  a  title  as  shall  be  indisputable."  Lucy 
coloured,  liut  as  she  still  held  out  her  hand  and 
threatened  him  with  her  displeasure  if  he  contin- 
ued disobedient,  he  gave  her  the  letter,  saying, 
"  I  suppose  I  must  submit;  the  contents  are  sad, 
but  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  v/ithhokl 
them  from  yourself,  or  from  your  lather."  With 
these  words  he  left  the  room ;  after  a  short  pause, 
Lucy,  at  the  Colonel's  request,  read  him  the  let- 
ter, which  proved  to  be  from  young  Lieutenant 
L' Estrange,  and  which,  being  translated,  ran  as 
follows: — 

"  My  HONOURED  FRIEND, 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  of  the  grief  that  I  expe- 
rienced on  revisiting  my  changed  and  desolate 
home.  My  father  has  told  me  all  that  passed 
during  your  stay  in  the  island.  He  looks  upon 
those  days  not  in  anger,  but  in  sorrow ;  he  is 
sensible  that  for  a  time  he  did  you  injustice,  and 
fears  that,  in  the  first  bitterness  of  his  grief,  he 
may  have  omitted  to  make  you  full  reparation. 
These  feelings  he  entreats  me  to  convey  to  you, 
and  desires  me  to  add,  that,  from  the  first  day  of 
your  arrival  to  that  of  your  final  departure,  your 
conduct  was  like  yourself— noble,  upright,  and 
generous.  The  misfortune  that  we  still  bewail, 
we  bow  to,  as  being  the  infliction  of  a  Providence 
whose  ways  are  inscrutable.  Accept  the  renewed 
assurance  of  the  highest  regarrd  and  esteem  of 
/our  friend, 

,  ,  "Eugene  L'Estrange." 

As  Lucy  read  this  letter,  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  though,  perhaps,  she  could  scarcely  have 
explained  whether  she  wept  over  the  afflictions 
that  had  befallen  the  L'Estrange  family,  or  the 
generous  testimony  whicn  it  bore  to  her  lover's 
conduct.    The  Colonel,  too,  was  much  affected, 


and  gladly  acquiesced  in  his  daughter's  propj>. 
sal,  tliat  they  should,  for  the  future,  abstain  from 
renewing  a  subject  which  must  cause  such 
painful  recollections  to  Ethelston. 

Ere  many  hours  had  elapsed,  the  latter  was 
summoned  to  attend  the  Colonel,  who  informed 
him  that  the  intelligence  lately  received  from  St. 
ijouis  v.'as  of  a  nature  so  important  to  his  affair.**, 
lliat  it  required  immediate  attention.  "  There 
is  no  one,"  he  continued,  "to  whom  I  can  well 
entrust  this  investigaticm  except  yourself,  for 
none  has  deserved  or  received  so  much  of  my 
confidence."  There  was  an  unusual  embarrass- 
ment and  hesitation  observable  in  Eihelston's 
countenance  on  hearing  these  words,  which  did 
not  escape  his  guardian's  quick  eye,  and  the  lat- 
ter added,  "  1  see,  my  dear  fellow,  that  you  are 
not  disposed  to  leave  Mooshanne  again  so  soon ; 
you  are  thinking  about  -certain  promises  and  a 
certain  young  lady — is  it  not  so,  Edward?" 

"  It  is  so,  indeed,  my  best  and  kindest  ol 
friends,"  said  Ethelston.  "Can  you  think  or 
wish  that  it  should  be  otherv/ise  1" 

"  Nay,"  said  Colonel  Brandon,  smiling,  "  I 
will  not  deny  that  you  are  entitled  to  entertain 
such  thoughts,  but  believe  me,  when  I  assure 
you  seriously  that  this  expedition  is  essential  to 
your  own  interests  and  to  mine.  A  great  por- 
tion of  the  property  left  to  you  under  my  care  by 
your  father  is  invested  in  these  fur  companies ; 
and  ere  you  enter  on  the  responsibilities  of  a 
married  life,  it  is  necessary  that  you  put  your 
affairs  in  such  a  posture,  as  to  ensure  some  fu- 
ture provision  for  the  lady  of  whom  you  are 
thinking.  These  arrangements  v/ill  not  detain 
you  at  St.  Louis  for  more  than  six  weeks  or  two 
months ;  by  that  time  P>,eginald  will  have  re- 
turned from  his  Indian  excursion ;  you  will  come 
home  together,  and  I  will  then  listen  patiently  to 
whatever  you  may  think  fit  to  say  regarding  the 
young  lady  in  que.'ition.  Shall  it  be  so,  Ed- 
ward V 

"  How  can  I  be  grateful  enough !"  replied  Eth- 
elston, taking  the  Colonel's  hand.  "Give  me 
only  leave  to  explain  to  Lucy  the  cause  and 
probable  duration  of  my  absence,  then  I  am 
ready  to  receive  your  instructions  and  to  set 
about  it  immediately." 

We  will  not  inquire  too  minutely  how  Lucy 
received  this  explanation  from  her  lover's  lip, 
nor  what  means  he  took  to  reconcile  her  to  th." 
proposed  arrangement;  it  is  sufficient  to  state, 
that  she  finally  acquiesced  with  her  habitual  gen- 
tleness, and  that,  in  a  few  days  after  the  above 
conversation,  Ethelston  had  completed  his  prep«. 
arations  for  his  journey  to  St.  Louis. 

Wo  will  again  take  leave  of  him  and  of  Moo^Bli 
shanne  lor  a  season,  and  return  to  Mahega,  whot^^ 
we  left  bleeding  and  senseless,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance I'rom  the  Osage  and  Delaware  encamp- 
ment. Indeed,  we  should,  ere  this,  have  accused 
ourselves  of  inhumanity  towards  that  chief,  for 
leaving  him  so  long  in  such  sorry  plight,  had  he 
not  merited  severe  punishment  for  his  rough  and 
brutal  behaviour  to  "  Prairie-bird." 

When  Mahega  recovered  his  senses,  he  war 
still  so  much  confused  from  the  stunning  effect? 
of  the  severe  blow  that  he  had  received  on  the 
head,  as  well  as  from  loss  of  blood,  that  he  could 
not  recall  to  mind  the  events  immediately  pre- 
ceding his  swoon;  nor  did  they  present  them^ 
selves  distinctly  to  his  memory,  until  his  eye 
r(;sted  upon  his  stained  scalp  lock,  and  beside  it 
the  knife  that  Reginald  Brandon  had  driven 
firmly  iato  the  turf.     Then  he  remembered    / 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


83 


ciearly  enough  the  struggle,  his  fall,  and  the 
maiden's  escape ;  and  the  rage  engendered  by 
this  remembrance  was  rendered  yet  more  vio- 
lent, v/hen  he  reflected  on  the  insult  that  his  scalp 
had  sustained  from  an  enemy  who  had  scorned 
tc  take  his  life. 

Fierce  as  were  ihe  passions  that  boiled  within 
the  breast  of  the  Osage,  his  self-command  wa3 
such  that  he  was  able  to  control  all  outward 
demonstration  of  them ;  and  rising  slowlj^,  he 
first  effaced  in  the  stream  all  the  sanguinary 
marks  of  the  late  contest,  and  then  took  his  way 
towards  the  camp,  revolving  in  his  mind  various 
projects  for  securing  the  two  principal  objects 
that  he  was  determined  to  accomplish — the  pos- 
session of  Prairie-bird  and  the  death  of  Reginald 
Brandon ! 

Although  a  wild,  uninstructed  savage,  Ma- 
hega  was  gifted  with  talents  of  no  common  or- 
cer.  Bold  and  inflexible  in  carrying  out  his 
purposes,  fce  had  cunning  sufficient  to  make  un- 
important concessions  to  the  opinions  of  other 
:;hiefs  and  braves  in  council.  Unlike  the  great 
majority  of  his  tribe  and  race,  he  was  well  aware 
ot  the  power  and  strength  resulting  from  union, 
and  although  all  his  ambition  ultimately  cen- 
tred in  himself,  he  had  the  art  of  persuading 
his  countrymen  that  he  sought  only  their  inter- 
ests and  welfare;  thus,  while  many  hated  and 
more  feared  Mahega,  he  was  the  most  influen- 
tial chief  in  the  tribe,  on  account  of  his  daring 
courage,  his  success  in  war,  and  the  reckless 
liberality  with  which  he  distributed  among  others 
his  share  of  booty  or  of  spoil.  When  the  Dela- 
ware band  had  migrated  to  the  banks  of  the 
Dsage  river,  Maliega's  first  impulse  had  been  to 
attack  and  destroy  them;  but  finding  that  the 
new  comers  were  better  supplied  with  arms  and 
immunition,  the  issue  of  a  conflict  seemed  doubt- 
ful. Moreover,  as  they  were  visited  by  many 
'j-aders,  he  calculated  that,  by  keeping  on  friendly 
,erms  with  them,  he  should  acquire  for  his  tribe 
and  for  himself  many  advantages  greater  than 
they  had  before  enjoyed. 

Acting  upon  these  motives  he  had  not  only  en- 
couraged peace  with  the  Delawares,  but  had  ef- 
fected through  his  own  influence  the  league  that 
had  for  some  lime  united  the  two  bands  in  one 
encampment;  nor  had  he  been  mistaken  in  his 
expectations,  for  since  their  union  with  the  band 
of  Delawares,  the  Osages  had  been  enabled  to 
beat  off  the  Pawnees  and  other  roving  tribes,  from 
whose  inroads  upon  their  hunting  ground  they 
had  before  been  exposed  to  frequent  and  severe 
disasters ;  the  objects  of  which  he  had  contempla- 
ted, had  thus  been  for  the  most  part  accomplished. 
j[rhe  tribe  was  plentifully  supplied  with  arms 
rand  ammunition  by  the  traders;  his  own  influ- 
ence among  them  was  higher  than  ever;  but 
he  could  not  brook  a  rival  to  his  fame  as  a  war- 
rior in  War-Eagle,  nor  bear  to  be  checked  and 
thwarted  in  his  ambitious  schemes,  by  the  mild 
authority  of  Tamenund. 

The  mind  of  Mahega  being  thus  prepared  for 
seizing  the  earliest  opportunity  of  coming  to  a 
rupture  with  the  Delawares,  it  may  well  be  ima- 
gined how  his  most  violent  and  rancorous  pas- 
sions were  excited  by  the  scornful  rejection  of 
his  suit  on  the  part  of  Prairie-bird,  and  the  dis- 
grace he  had  incurred  in  his  rencounter  with  her 
white  protector.  He  resolved  no  longer  to  delay 
the  meditated  blow;  he  had  already  made  a  se- 
cret league  with  the  warlike  and  powerful  Dah- 
cotahs;  and  the  occasion  seemed  most  favoura- 
ble for  wreaking  his  vengeance  on  the  relatives 


of  Prairie-bird,  and  the  while  men  now  resident 
in  the  Delaware  camp. 

Having  once  formed  his  determination,  he  set 
about  carrying  it  into  effect  with  the  sagacity 
and  profound  dissimulation  which  had  already 
obtained  for  him  such  an  ascendancy  in  the 
Osage  council.  No  sooner  had  he  reached  his 
lodge,  than  he  dressed  hiiftself  in  his  Medicine 
robe,*  adorned  his  face  with  corresponding 
streaks  of  paint,  and  concealing  the  loss  of  hi* 
scalplock  by  a  Spanish  kerchief  which  he  fold- 
ed round  his  head,  somewhat  after  the  fashion  of 
a  turban,  he  sallied  forth  to  visit  the  chiefs  and 
braves,  on  whose  co-operation  he  felt  that  suc- 
cess must  mainly  depend. 

Some  of  these  were  already  prepared  to  adopt 
his  views,  by  their  previous  participation  in  the 
league  with  the  Dahcotahs;  others  he  bent  and 
moulded  to  his  purpose  by  arguinents,  and  in- 
ducements suited  to  their  character  or  circum- 
stances; and  ere  he  returned  to  his  lodge,  he  felt 
confident  that  his  proposed  plans  would  be  sup- 
ported by  the  most  influential  warriors  in  the 
tribe,  and  that  he  should  easily  bear  down  the 
opposition  of  the  more  cautious  and  scrupulous, 
who  might  be  disposed  to  keep  faith  with  their 
Delaware  allies. 

In  the  meanwhile  War-Eagle  was  not  idle, 
he  visited  the  principal  braves  and  warriors  of 
his  tribe,  and  found  them  unanimous  in  their  res- 
olution to  break  off  all  communication  with  the 
Osages,  as  soon  as  the  latter  should  commit  any 
oveit  act  that  should  justify  them  in  dissolving 
the  league  into  which  they  had  entered.  He 
also  resolved  to  watch  closely  the  movements  ot 
Mahega,  of  whose  malice  and  influence  he  was 
fully  aware ;  with  this  view  he  selected  an  intel- 
ligent Delaware  boy,  who  knew  the  Osage  lan- 
guage, and  desired  him  to  hover  about  the  tent  of 
the  chief,  and  to  bring  a  report  of  all  that  he 
should  see  or  hear. 

Towards  the  close  of  day,  Mahega  sent  run- 
ners about  his  village,  after  the  usual  Indian 
fashion,  to  summon  the  warriors  and  braves, 
most  of  whom  were  already  prepared  for  the 
harangue  which  he  was  about  to  address  to  them ; 
as  soon  as  a  sufficient  number  were  collected, 
the  wily  chief  came  forth  from  his  lodge,  in  the 
dress  before  described,  and  began  by  thanking 
them  for  so  readily  obeying  his  call. 

"Why  did  Mahega  call  together  the  war- 
riors'?" he  continued;  "was  it  to  tell  them  that  a 
broad  bison-trail  is  near  the  camp  1  The  Med- 
icine-men have  not  yet  smoked  the  hunting  pipe 
to  the  AVahcondah. — Was  it  to  tell  them  of  the 
scalps  taken  by  their  fathers'?  The  young  men 
have  not  been  called  to  the  war-dance,  their  ears 
have  not  heard  the  Drum.t — Was  it  to  tickle 
their  ears  with  words  like  dried  grass  1  Mahe- 
ga's  tongue  is  not  spread  with  honey;  he  has 
called  the  Washashe  to  open  their  ears  and  eyes, 
to  tell  them  that  snakes  have  crept  under  their 


•  The  Buffalo  robes  worn  by  ths  Osages,  as  well  as  by 
some  other  Missouri  tribes,  are  variously  ornamented  and 
painted  with  devices.  Some  of  these  refer  to  war,  some  to 
marriage,  some  to  medicine  or  mystery  ;  these  last  are  gen- 
erally worn  at  councils,  on  which  occasions  a  chief  who  hia 
some  important  subject  to  propose,  frequently  add*  to  the 
paint  on  his  face,  some  streaks  coiTosponding  to  the  devicta 
on  his  Buffalo  robe. 

t  In  the  performance  of  the  war-dance  among  the  Indian* 
of  the  Missouri,  the  tread  of  the  dancers  is  guided  by  a  mo 
notonous  chaunt,  sung  by  some  of  the  Medicine-raen,  and 
accompanied  by  the  beat  of  a  small  drum  of  the  rudest  con- 
struction, and  most  barren  dismal  tone.  It  is  generally 
nothing  more  than  a  dned  skin,  stretched  upon  a  woodsa  ' 
frame  hollowed  out  with  a  knife  by  the  squs  «» 


84 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


lodges,  that  the  dogs  in  the  village  have  become 
wolves!" 

As  he  paused,  the  auditors  looked  each  at  the 
other;  those  who  were  not  yet  instructed  in  the 
speaker's  project  being  at  a  loss  to  catch  the 
meaning  of  his  words.  Seeing  that  he  had  ar- 
rested their  attention,  he  proceeded,  "  When  Ma- 
hega  was  young,  when  our  fathers  were  war- 
riors, who  was"  so  strong  as  the  Wasliashel 
Our  hunters  killed  the  deer  and  the  bison  from 
the  Neska  to  the  Topeo-ka.*  The  Konsas  were 
our  brothers,  and  we  were  afraid  of  none.  But 
the  Mahe-hunguht  came  near,  their  tongues 
were  smooth,  their  hands  were  full,  and  the 
Washashe  listened  to  their  talk;— is  it  not  sol" 

A  deep  murmur  testified  the  attention  of  his 
auditors;  but  Mahega  knew  that  he  was  ventur- 
ing on  dangerous  ground,  and  his  present  object 
was  rather  to  incite  them  to  vengeance  against 
the  band  of  Delawares  and  their  guests,  than 
against  the  white  men  in  general.  He  resumed 
his  harangue  in  a  milder  tone. 

"  The  Long-knives  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace 
with  us,  we  gave  them  meat,  and  skins,  and  they 
gave  us  pairit,  and  blankets,  and  fire-weapons 
with  Medicine-powder  and  lead, — all  that  was 
well ;  but  who  came  with  the  Long-knives, — the 
Lenape !"  He  paused  a  moment,  then  looking 
fiercely  round,  he  continued  in  a  louder  strain; 
"  and  who  are  these  Lenape  1  They  were 
beggars  when  they  came  to  us!  Their  skin  is 
red,  but  their  hearts  are  pale.  Do  we  not 
know  the  tale  of  their  fathers'?  Were  they  not 
slaves  to  the  warriors  of  other  nations  It  Were 
they  not  women  1  Did  they  not  leave  the  war- 
path to  plant  maize,  and  drink  the  fire-water  of 
the  Long-knives "?  They  gave  up  their  hunting 
ground;  they  left  the  bones  of  their  fathers;  they 
crossed  the  Ne-o-hunge,§  and  asked  for  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Washashe.  We  lighted  the  pipe  for 
them  ;  we  received  them  like  brothers,  and  open- 
ed to  them  our  hunting  ground;  but  their  hearts 
are  bad  to  us,  Washashes,  Mahega  tells  you  that 
the  Lenape  are  snakes !" 

Another  drep  guttural  sound,  indicative  of  in- 
creased excitement,  gratified  the  speaker's  ear, 
and  he  continued  in  a  strain  yet  bolder.  "Is 
Mahega  not  a  chiefl  Has  he  not  struck  the 
bodies  of  his  enemies  1  Are  there  no  scalps  on 
his  war-shirt  1  He  was  good  to  these  Lcnap6, 
he  treated  their  warriors  like  brothers,  he  offer- 
ed to  make  Olitipa  his  wife,  they  gave  him  bitter 
words  and  threw  dirt  upon  his  lodge.  Shall  the 
Washashe  chief  be  called  a  Dog  V  he  exclaimed 
in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  Shall  he  sit  on  the  ground 
while  a  Lenape  spits  in  his  face  1" 

A  shout  of  anger  and  fury  burst  from  the  au- 
dience, as  waving  his  hand  impatiently  for  si- 
lence, he  went  on,  "  The  Lenapo  knew  that  their 
hearts  were  false,  their  arms  weak,  their  tongues 
forked,  and  they  have  brought  in  a  band  of  Long- 

*  The  Indian  names  for  the  rivers  now  c.iUed  "  Konsas" 
and  "  Osage,"  both  of  which  fall  into  the  Missouri. 

t  Anglici,  Long-knives,  or  Americans. 

i  Mah6ga  here  alludes  to  that  unfortunate  era,  in  the 
hiitory  of  the  Lenap6,  so  pathetically  described  by  lli'cke- 
walder,  when  they  permitted  themselves  to  be  jiersuaded 
by  the  whites  to  abandon  all  their  warlike  weapons  and 
jiursuits,  and  following  those  of  agriculture,  to  leave  the  af- 
fairs of  war  entirely  to  the  northern  tribes,  who  guaranteed 
their  safety.  The  consequence  was  such  as  might  have 
been  expecu  i,  they  were  treated  with  contumely  and  in- 
'BJtice  ;  and  leiiig  compelled,  at  leiiglK,  to  resume  those 
arms  to  which  they  had  been  for  some  time  unaccustomed, 
they  suffered  repeated  defeats  and  disasters  from  the  "  six 
nations,"  and  adjoining  tribes. 

J  The  Mississippi  is  so  called  by  the  Osageg. 


knives  to  defend  them  and  to  drive  the  Wash- 
ashe from  their  hunting  grounds.  Shall  it  be  so  1 
Shall  we  hold  our  backs  to  be  scourged  like 
children"?  Shall  we  whine  like  starved  wolves  1 
See  how  the  pale  faces  can  insult  your  chief." 
As  he  spoke  Mahega  tore  the  turtan  with  one 
hand  from  his  head,  and  holding  up  his  severed 
scalp  lock  with  the  other,  while  every  muscle  of 
his  countenance  worked  with  fury,  "See  what 
the  hand  of  a  white-face  boy  has  done.  Mahega 
slept  under  a  tree,  and  he  whom  they  call  Iseus, 
the  stranger  who  has  eaten  our  meat  and  smoked 
with  our  chiefs,  stole  upon  Mahega,  struck  him 
on  the  head,  and  cut  oil'  his  hair."  As  he  utter- 
ed this  audacious  falsehood,  which  was,  of 
course,  believed  by  all  who  heard  him,  a  terrific 
shout  burst  from  the  assembled  Osages,  and  the 
wily  chief,  striking  v/hile  the  iron  was  hot, 
went  on, 

"  It  is  enough— the  Washashes  are  not  wom- 
en; they  will  dig  up  the  hatchet,  and  throw  it 
into  the  council-lodge  of  these  white-faced  and 
pale-hearted  dogs.  The  great  chief  of  the  Dah- 
cotahs  has  spoken  to  Mahega;  he  seeks  the 
friendship  of  the  Washashes;  the  Dahcotahs 
are  men;  the  bisons  on  their  hunting  grounds 
are  like  the  leaves  in  the  forest.  They  wish  to 
call  the  Washashes  brothers,  they  wait  for  Ma- 
hega's  words. — What  shall  he  say  T' 

A  tremendous  shout  was  raised  in  reply,  a 
shout  that  could  be  heard  throughout  the  whole 
encampment.  Mahega  saw  that  his  triumph 
was  complete,  and  folding  his  medicine  robe  over 
his  shoulder,  he  once  more  waved  his  hand  for 
silence,  and  dismissed  the  assembly,  saying, 
"  Before  the  sun  sinks  again  the  chiel's  and 
braves  will  meet  in  council.  The  Washashes 
will  hear  their  words  and  they  will  be  ready." 
As  he  spoke  he  cast  his  dark  eye  expressively 
downwards  to  the  tomahawk  suspended  at  his 
belt,  and  slowly  re-entered  his  lodge. 

Meanwhile  the  youth  who  had  been  sen! 
by  War-Eagle  to  observe  what  was  passing 
in  the  Osage  encampment,  executed  his  com- 
mission with  fidelity  and  address.  Although 
not  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  language  to 
catch  all  that  fell  from  Mahega,  he  yet  learned 
enough  to  satisfy  his  young  chief  that  a  rupture 
was  at  hand.  It  only  remained  now  to  be  proved 
whether  it  would  take  place  as  the  result  of  an 
open  council,  or  whether  the  Osages  would  with- 
draw secretly  to  their  new  Dahcoiah  allies. 

On  the  morning  succeeding  the  events  above 
related,  War-Eagle  left  the  encampment  before 
daybreak,  partly  to  see  whether  he  could  dis- 
cover any  unusual  stir  among  the  Osages,  and 
partly  to  revolve  in  his  mind  the  course  of  coni 
duct  that  he  should  suggest  if  called  upon  ten 
give  his  opinion  before  the  Lenape  council. 
Many  various  emotions  were  struggling  in  his 
bosom,  and  in  this  respect  the  descendants  of 
Adam,  whether  their  skins  be  white  or  red,  so 
far  resemble  each  other,  that  on  such  occasions 
they  seek  to  avoid  the  turmoil  of  their  fellow- 
men,  and  to  be  for  a  season  alone  amid  the  works 
of  inanimate  nature. 

It  was  with  impressions  and  feelings  far  dif- 
ferent that  Reginald  and  Prairie-bird  found  them- 
selves soon  after  sunrise  together,  as  if  by  tacit 
appointment,  by  the  great  tree,  under  which  he 
had  first  seen  her.  In  order  to  guard  against  the 
treachery  of  which  he  believed  Mahega  capable, 
he  had  communicated  to  Baptiste  the  events  of 
the  preceding  morning,  and  had  desired  him  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  latter,  especirJl 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


85 


« 


guarding  Prairie-bird  against  any  renewal  of 
his  violence.  The  trusty  forester,  who  had 
grown  extremely  taciturn  since  he  had  observed 
his  young  master's  attachment,  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  briefly  promised  to  obey  his  in- 
structions. He  was  too  shrewd  to  oppose  a  tor- 
rent such  as  that  by  which  Reginald  was  carried 
away;  and,  although  it  must  be  confessed  that 
he  had  many  misgivings  as  to  the  reception  that 
the  tidings  would  meet  with  at  the  hands  of  Col- 
cnel  Brandon,  the  beauty  and  gentleness  of  Prai- 
rie-bird had  so  far  won  upon  his  rough  nature 
that  he  was  well  disposed  to  protect  her  from  the 
machinations  of  the  Osage.  With  these  inten- 
tions he  followed  her  when  she  left  her  lodge, 
and  as  soon  as  she  entered  the  thicket  before  de- 
scribed, he  ensconced  himself  in  a  shady  corner 
whence  he  could  observe  the  approach  of  any 
party  from  the  encampment. 

We  will  now  follow  the  steps  of  War-Eagle, 
who.  having  satisfied  himself  by  a  careful  obser- 
vation of  the  out  piquette  that  no  immediate 
movement  was  on  foot  among  the  Osages,  turn- 
ed towards  the  undulating  prairies  to  the  west- 
ward of  the  village. 

He  was  in  an  uneasy  and  excited  mood,  both 
from  the  treachery  of  the  Osages  towards  his 
tribe,  and  various  occurrences  which  had  of  late 
•wounded  his  feelings  in  the  quarter  where  they 
were  most  sensitive. 

The  victory  over  self,  is  the  greatest  that  can 
be  achieved  by  man,  it  assumes,  however,  a  dif- 
ferent complexion  in  those  who  are  guided  by 
the  light  of  nature,  and  in  those  who  have  been 
taught  by  revelation.  In  the  heathen  it  is  con- 
fined to  the  actions  and  to  the  outward  man, 
whereas  in  the  Christian  it  extends  to  the  mo- 
tives and  feelings  of  the  heart.  The  former  may 
Epare  an  enemy,  the  latter  must  learn  to  forgive 
and  love  him.  But  in  both  cases  the  struggle  is 
severe  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  pas- 
sion which  is  to  be  combated.  In  War-Eagle 
were  combined  many  of  the  noblest  features  of 
the  Indian  character;  but  his  passions  had  all 
the  fierce  intensity  common  to  nis  race,  and  al- 
though the  instructions  of  Paul  Miiller,  falling 
like  good  seed  on  a  wild  but  fertile  soil,  had  hu- 
manize>.i  and  improved  him ;  his  views  of  Chris- 
tianity were  incipient  and  indistinct,  while  the 
courage,  pride,  and  feelings  of  his  race  were  in 
the  full  zenith  of  their  power.  He  had  long 
known  that  Prairie-bird  was  not  his  sister  in 
blood,  she  had  grown  up  from  childhood  under 
his  eye,  and  unconsciously  perhaps  at  first,  he 
had  loved  her,  and  still  loved  her  with  all  the  im- 
passioned fervour  of  his  nature.  It  may  be  re- 
membered in  the  e^lier  portion  of  this  tale, 
when  he  first  became  acquainted  with  Reginald, 
that  he  had  abstained  from  all  mention  of  her 
name,  and  had  avoided  the  subject  whenever 
young  Wingenund  brought  it  forward.  He  had 
never  yet  asked  Olitipa  to  become  his  wife,  but 
the  sweet  gentleness  of  her  manner,  and  her 
open  contempt  for  the  addresses  of  the  handsome 
and  distinguished  Osage,  had  led  him  to  form  ex- 
pectations favourable  to  his  own  suit.  At  the 
same  time  there  was  something  in  the  maiden's 
oehaviour  that  had  frequently  caused  him  to 
doubt  whether  she  loved  him,  and  sharing  in  the 
awe  with  which  she  inspired  all  the  Indians 
around  her,  he  had  hitherto  hesitated  and  feared 
to  make  a  distinct  avowal.  Of  late  he  had  been 
so  much  occupied  in  observing  the  suspicious 
movements  of  the  Osages  that  his  attention  had 
been  somewhat  withdrawn  from  Olitipa :  he  was 


aware  of  her  having  become  acquainted  with 
Reginald,  and  the  adventure  of  the  prt'ceding 
day,  which  had  been  communicated  to  him,  fill- 
ed him  with  an  uneasiness  that  he  could  no- 
conceal  from  himself,  although  he  had  succeed- 
ed in  concealing  it  from  others. 

In  tnis  frame  of  mind,  he  was  returning  to  the 
camp,  along  the  course  of  the  streamlet  pass- 
ing through  the  grove  where  the  rencounter 
of  the  preceding  day  had  occurred.  When  he 
reached  the  opening  before  described,  his  eyes 
rested  on  a  sight  that  transfixed  him  to  the  spot. 
Seated  on  one  of  the  projecting  roots  of  the  an- 
cient tree  was  Prairie-bird,  her  eye  and  cheek 
glowing  with  happiness,  and  her  ear  drinking  in 
the  whispered  vows  of  her  newly  betrothed  lover; 
her  hand  was  clasped  in  his,  and  more  than  once 
he  pressed  it  tenderly  to  his  lips.  For  several 
minutes,  the  Indian  stood  silent  and  motionless 
as  a  statue ;  despair  seemed  to  have  checked  the 
current  of  his  blood,  but  by  slow  degrees  con- 
sciousness returned ;  he  saw  her,  the  maiden 
whom  he  had  served  and  loved  for  weary  months 
and  years,  now  interchanging  with  another  to- 
kens of  affection  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  that 
other  a  stranger  whom  he  had  himself  lately 
brought  by  his  own  invitation  from  a  distant 
region. 

The  demon  of  jealousy  took  instant  possession 
of  his  soul ;  every  other  thought,  feeling,  and 
passion,  was  for  the  time  annihilated,  the  nobler 
impulses  of  his  nature  were  forgotten,  and  he 
was,  in  a  moment,  transformed  to  a  merciless 
savage,  bent  on  swift  and  deadly  vengeance. 
He  only  paused  as  in  doubt,  how  he  should  kill 
his  rival;  perhaps,  whether  he  should  kill  them 
both  ;  his  eye  dwelt  upon  them  with  a  stern 
ferocity,  as  he  loosened  the  unerring  tomahawk 
from  his  belt ;  another  moment  he  paused,  for 
his  hand  trembled  convulsively,  and  a  cold  sweat 
stood  like  dew  upon  his  brow.  At  this  terrible 
crisis  of  his  passion,  a  low  voice  whispered  in 
his  ear,  in  the  Delaware  tongue, 

"  Would  the  Lenape  chief  stain  his  Medicine 
with  a  brother's  blood  1"  War-Eagle,  turning 
round,  encountered  the  steady  eye  of  Baptiste; 
he  gave  no  answer,  but  directed  his  fiery  glanee 
towards  the  spot  where  the  unconscious  lovers 
were  seated,  and  the  half  raised  weapon  still  vi- 
brated under  the  impulse  of  the  internal  struggle 
that  shook  every  muscle  of  the  Indian's  frame. 
Profiting  by  the  momentary  pause,  Baptiste 
continued,  in  the  same  tone,  "  Shall  the  toma- 
hawk of  the  War- Eagle  strike  an  adopted  son  of 
the  Unami  1*  The  Bad  Spirit  has  entered  my 
brother's  heart;  let  him  hold  a  talk  with  himself, 
and  remember  that  he  is  the  son  of  Tamenund." 

By  an  effort  of  self-control,  such  as  none  but 
an  Indian  can  exercise,  War-Eagle  subdued,  in- 
stantaneously, all  outward  indica'tion  of  the  tem- 
pest that  had  been  aroused  in  his  breast.  Re- 
placing the  tomahawk  in  his  belt,  he  drew  him- 
self proudly  to  his  full  height,  and,  fixing  on  the 
woodsman  an  eye  calm  and  steady  as  his  own, 
he  replied, 

"  Grande-Hache  speaks  trath;  War-Eagle  is 
a  chief;  the  angry  Spirit  is  strong;  but  he  tram- 
ples it  under  his  feet."     He  then  added,  in  a 


*  After  their  first  meeting,  in  which  Reginald  had  saved 
the  life  of  War-Eagle,  the  latter  had  adopted  his  new 
friend,  not  only  as  a  brother,  but  as  a  member  of  that  por 
tion  of  his  tribe  who  were  called  Unami,  and  of  which  the 
turtle  was  the  Medicine,  or  sacred  symbol ;  after  the  ratifi- 
cation of  such  a  covenant  of  brotherhood,  each  party  is,  ac- 
cording to  Indian  custom,  solemnly  bound  to  defend  the 
other,  on  all  occasions,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life. 


8b 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Icwcr  lor.e,  "War-Eagle  will  speak  to  Netis ; 
not  now;  it'  his  while  brother's  tongue  has  been 
forked,  the  Medicine  ol'ilie  Unanii  shall  not  pro- 
tect him.  The  sky  is  verj'  black,  and  War-Eagle 
has  no  friend  leR."  So  saying,  ihe  Indian  threw 
his  light  blanket  over  his  shoulder  and  stalked 
gloomily  from  the  spot. 

Baptiste  followed  with  his  eye  the  retreating 
figure  of  the  Delaware,  until  it  was  lost  in  the 
dense  foliage  of  the  wood. 

"  He  IS  a  noble  fellow,"  said  the  rough  hunter, 
half  aloud,  leaning  on  his  long  rifle,  and  pursu- 
ing the  thread  of  his  own  reflections.  "  He  is 
one  of  the  old  sort  of  Ingians,  and  there's  but 
'ew  of  'em  lelt.  I've  been  with  him  in  several 
skrimmages,  and  I've  .seen  him  strike  and  scalp 
more  than  one  Dahcotah;  but  I  never  saw  the 
glare  of  his  eye  so  wild  and  blood-thirsty  before; 
if  he  had  kept  his  purpose,  my  old  sinews  would 
have  had  some  trouble  to  save  Master  Reginald 
from  that  tcmahawk.  It's  well  for  him  that  I've 
lived  long  enough  among  the  Delawares  to  know 
the  ins  and  outs  of  their  natur',  as  well  as  John 
Skellup  at  the  ferry  knows  the  sand-bars  and 
channels  in  Bearcreek  Shallows.  I  thought  the 
Unami  Medicine  whispered  in  his  ear  might  do 
something  ;  but  I  scarcely  hoped  it  could  smoth- 
er such  a  fire  in  a  minute.  I  remember,  when  I 
was  young,  I  was  in  a  hot  passion,  now  and 
then,  myself  Capote!  I'm  sometimes  in  a  pas- 
sion still,  when  I  think  of  those  cut-throat  Sioux, 
and  if  my  bristles  are  up,  it  takes  some  time  to 
smooth  'em  down."  Here  the  woodsman's  hand 
unconsciously  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  huge 
axe  suspended  at  his  belt ;  but  his  musings  took 
another  course,  as  he  continued  his  muttered 
soliloquy. 

"  Weil,  I  sometimes  think  the  bears  and  the 
(leer  have  more  reason  than  human  criiturs,  ay, 
and  I  believe  that  shot  isn't  overwide  o'  the 
mark.  Look  at  them  two  youngsters,  Master 
Reginald  and  War-Eagle,  two  brave,  honest 
hearts  as  ever  lived ;  one  saves  the  other's  life ; 
ihey  become  brothers  and  swear  friendship;  of  a 
sudden,  I  am  obliged  to  step  in  between  'em,  to 
prevent  one  from  braining  the  other  with  a  tom- 
ahawk. And  what's  the  cause  of  all  this  hate 
and  fury  1  Why,  love — a  pair  of  black  eyes  and 
red  lips;  a  strange  kind  of  love,  indeed,  that 
makes  a  man  hale  and  kill  his  best  friend ;  thank 
Heaven,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  such  love; 
and  I  say,  as  I  said  before,  that  the  dumb  ani- 
mals have  more  reason  than  human  critturs. 
Well,  I  must  do  all  I  can  to  make  'em  friends 
again,  for  a  blind  man  might  see  they'll  need 
each  other's  help,  ere  many  days  are  past !" 

So  saying,  the  woodsman  threw  his  rifle  into 
the  hollow  oihis  arm,  and  moved  towards  Regi- 
nald Brandon,  who,  unconscious  of  the  danger 
that  he  had  so  narrowly  escaped,  was  still  en- 
gaged with  Prairie-bird  in  that  loving  dialogue 
which  finds  no  satiety  in  endless  reiteration. 

Bapiiste  drew  near,  and,  after  the  usual  greet- 
ings, took  an  opportunity,  as  he  thought  unob- 
served by  Prairie-bird,  of  making  a  sign  to  Re- 
ginald that  he  wished  to  speak  with  him  in  pri- 
vate :  but  the  maiden,  watchful  of  every  move- 
ment directly  or  indirectly  afiecting  her  lover, 
and  already  aware  of  the  intrigues  and  treachery 
of  the  Osages,  said  to  him  with  her  usual  sim- 
plicity of  manner,  "  Baptiste,  if  )'^ou  have  aught 
to  say  requiring  my  absence,  I  will  go;  but  as 
there  are  dangers  approaching  that  threaten  us 
all  alike,  do  not  fear  to  speak  before  me.  I  know 
something  of  these  people,  and  though  only  an 


unskilled  maiden,  my  thoughts  might  be  ol  .soiB 

avail." 

The  sturdy  hunter,  although  possessed  of  a 
shrewd  judgment,  was  somewhat  confused  by 
this  direct  appeal ;  but  after  smoothing  down  the 
hair  of  his  fur  cap  for  a  few  moments,  as  was 
his  custom  when  engaged  in  refection,  he  re- 
solved to  speak  before  her  without  concealment; 
and  he  proceeded  accordingly,  with  the  blunt 
honesty  of  his  nature,  to  narrate  to  them  all  the 
particulars  of  his  late  interview  with  War- 
Eagle.  During  his  recital,  both  the  auditon 
changed  colour  more  than  once,  with  difierent 
yet  sympathetic  emotions  ;  and  when  he  conclu- 
ded, Reginald  suddenly  arose,  and,  fixing  his 
eye  upon  the  maiden's  countenance,  as  if  he 
would  read  her  soul,  he  said, 

"  Prairie-bird,  1  conjure  you  by  all  you  love 
on  earth,  and  by  all  your  hopes  of  Heaven  !  tell 
me  truly,  if  you  have  known  and  encouraged 
these  feelings  in  War-Eagle  ?" 

The  dark  eyes  that  had  been  cast  to  the 
ground  with  various  painful  emotions,  were 
raised  at  this  appeal,  and  met  her  lover's  search- 
ing look  with  the  modest  courage  of  conscious 
truth  as  she  replied, 

"  Reginald,  is  it  possible  that  you  can  ask  me 
such  a  question  1  Olitipa,  the  foundling  of  the 
Delawares,  loved  War-Eagle  as  she  loved  Win- 
genund  ;  she  was  brought  up  in  the  same  lodge 
with  both  ;  she  called  both,  brother;  she  thought 
of  them  only  as  such  !  Had  War-Eagle  ever 
asked  for  other  love,  she  v.ould  have  told  hioi 
she  had  none  other  to  give  !  She  knew  of  none 
other,  until — until — "  The  presence  of  a  third 
person  checked  the  words  tiiat  struggled  for  ut- 
terance ;  her  deep  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  shi2 
hid  them  on  Reginald's  bosom. 

"  I  were  worse  than  an  infidel,  could  I  doubt 
thy  purity  and  truth,"  he  exclaimed  with  fer- 
vour ;  "  Baptiste,  I  will  .^peak  with  my  Indian 
brother. — I  pity  him  from  my  heart — I  will 
strive  all  in  my  power  to  soothe  his  sorrow  ;  for 
I,  and  1  alone  can  know  what  he  must  suffer, 
who  has,  in  secret  and  in  vain,  loved  such  a  be- 
ing as  this  !     Let  us  return." 

Slowly  and  sadly  they  wended  their  way  to 
the  encampment,  the  guide  bringing  up  the  rear. 
He  was  thoroughly  convinced  that  Prairie-bird 
had  spoken  the  truth:  every  look,  every  accent 
carried  conviction  with  it;  but  he  feared  for  the 
meeting  between  the  young  men,  being  fully 
aware  of  the  impetuosity  of  Reginald's  charac- 
ter, and  of  the  intense  excitement  that  now  af- 
fected the  Indian's  mind.  He  determined,  how- 
ever, to  leave  them  to  themselves,  for  he  had 
lived  enough  among  men  of  stormy  and  ungov- 
erned  passions  to  know,  that  in  a  tetc-a-t&te  be- 
tween two  high  and  generous  spirits  a  conces- 
sion  will  oflen  be  made,  to  which  pride  might, 
in  the  presence  of  others,  never  have  submitted. 

On  reaching  their  quarters  in  the  encamp- 
ment, they  found  Paul  Miiller  standing  thought- 
fully before  Prairie-bird's  tent,  into  which,  alter 
exchanging  a  brief  but  cordial  greeting,  he  and 
the  maiden  withdrew,  leaving  Reginald  and  the 
guide  to  retire  into  the  adjoining  lodge  of  Tanae- 
nund. 

War-Eagle,  who  had  posted  himself  in  a  spot 
whence,  without  being  seen  himself,  he  could 
observe  their  movements,  now  walked  slcwly 
forward  to  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  into  which 
ho  wa  ;  immediately  invited  by  the  Missionary; 
his  manner  was  grave  and  composed,  nor  co\x\t 
the  most  observant  eve  have  traced,  in  the  line 


9 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


87 


1 


cf  his  countenance,  the  slightest  shade  of  excite- 
ment or  agitation. 

After  the  usual  salutation,  he  said,  "War- 
Eagle  will  speak  to  the  Black-Father  presently; 
he  has  now  low  words  for  the  ear  of  Olitipa." 

Paul  Miiller,  looking  on  him  with  a  smile, 
bf^nevolent  though  somewhat  nielanchol}'^,  said, 
"  I  shut  my  ears,  my  son,  and  go,  for  1  Imow 
;1  .at  "War-Eagle  will  speak  nothing  that  his  sis- 
ter should  not  hear;"  and  so  saying,  he  retired 
into  his  adjacent  compartment  of  the  tent.  Prai- 
rie-bird, conscious  of  the  painful  scene  that 
awaited  her,  sat  in  embarrassed  silence,  and  for 
upwards  of  a  minute  War-Eagle  contemplated 
vdthout  speaking  the  sad  but  lovely  expression 
cf  the  maiden's  countenance;  that  long  and  pier- 
cing look  told  him  all  that  he  dreaded  to  know; 
he  saw  that  Baptiste  had  spoken  to  her;  he  saw 
that  his  hopes  were  blasted;  and  still  his  riveted 
gaze  was  fixed  upon  her,  as  the  eyes  of  one  ban- 
ished for  life  dwell  upon  the  last  receding  tints 
of  the  home  that  he  is  leaving  for  ever.  Collect- 
ing, at  length,  all  the  stoic  firmness  of  his  nature, 
he  sppke  to  her  in  the  Delaware  tongue;  the 
words  that  he  used  were  few  and  simple,  but 
in  them,  and  in  the  tone  of  his  voice,  there  was 
so  much  delicacy  mingled  with  such  depth  of 
feeling,  that  Prairie-bird  could  not  refrain  from 
tears. 

Answering  him  in  the  same  language,  she 
blended  her  accustomed  sincerity  of  expression 
with  gentle  words  of  soothing  kindness;  and,  in 
concluding  her  reply,  she  took  his  hand  in  hers, 
saying,  "  Olitipa  has  long  loved  her  brothers, 
War-Eagle  and  Wingenund,  let  not  a  clouit 
come  between  them  nov/  ;  her  heart  is  not  chan- 
ged to  the  great  w^arrior  of  Leaap.';  liis  sister 
trusts  to  his  protection  ;  she  is  proud  of  his  fame  ; 
she  has  no  other  love  to  give  him ;  her  race,  her 
religion,  her  heart  forbid  it !  but  he  is  her  dear 
brother;  he  will  not  be  angry,  nor  leave  her. 

"  Mahega  and  the  Osages  are  become  en- 
emies; the  Dahcotah  trail  is  near;  Tamenund  is 
old  and  weak  ;  v/here  shall  Olitipa  find  a  broth- 
er's love,  and  a  brother's  aid,  if  War-Eagle 
turns  away  his  face  from  her  nov/ 1" 

The  noble  heart  to  which  she  appealed  had 
goifie  through  its  fiery  ordeal  of  torture,  and  tri- 
umphed over  it.  After  the  manner  of  his  tribe, 
the  Delaware,  before  relinquishing  her  hand, 
pressed  it  for  a  moment  to  his  chest,  in  token  of 
affection,  and  said,  "  It  is  enough,  my  sister's 
words  ere  good,  they  are  not  spilt  upon  the 
gvourJ;  let  Mahega  or  the  Dahcotahs  come 
•aear  itie  lodge  of  Olitipa,  and  they  shall  learn 
hat  War-Eagle  is  her  brother!"  The  chief- 
air  5  hand  rested  lightly  on  his  tomahawk,  and 
Ki'u  countenance,  as  he  withdrew  from  the  tent, 

j"e  au  expression  of  high  and  stern  resolve. 

How  often  in  life  is  the  ojjservation  forced 
ppon  us,  thatartlessness  is  the  highest  perfec- 
iion  of  art !  It  is  an  axiom,  the  truth  of  which 
leiaains  unchfinged  under  whatever  aspect  we 
viev;  it,  and  is  indisputable  even  in  its  con- 
verse; thus,  as  in  writing,  the  apparent  ease  and 
simplicity  of  style  is  the  result  of  frequent  cor- 
rection and  laborious  study;  so  in  corporeal  ex- 
ercises, the  most  assiduous  practice  must  be 
combined  with  the  highest  physica.  quaiifica- 
lions,  ere  the  dancer  or  the  posture-master  can 
emulate  the  unconscious  grace  displayed  in  the 
movements  of  a  sportive  kitten,  or  a  plavful 
child. 

Had  Prairie-bird  been  familiar  with  all  the 
iearned  treatises  on  rhetoric  that  have  appeared 


from  the  time  of  Aristotle  to  the  present  daj, 
she  could  not  have  selected  topics  better  calcu- 
lated to  move  and  soften  the  heart  of  her  Indian 
brother.  And  yet  she  had  no  other  instructor 
in  the  art  than  the  natural  delicacy  of  her  sex 
and  character.  While  the  tribute  to  his  warlike 
fame  gratified  his  pride,  the  unstudied  sisterly 
affection  of  her  tone  and  manner  soothed  his 
wounded  feelings;  and  while  her  brief  picture 
of  her  unprotected  state  aroused  all  his  nobler 
and  more  generous  sentiments,  no  breath  of  allu- 
sion to  his  successful  rival's  name  kindled  the 
embers  of  jealousy  that  slumbered  beneath  them. 
As  he  walked  from  her  tent,  the  young  In- 
dian's heart  dilated  within  him ;  he  trod  the 
earth  with  a  proud  and  lordly  step  ;  he  had  grap- 
pled with  his  passion;  and  though  it  had  been, 
riveted  "to  his  soul  with  hooks  of  steel,"  he  had 
plucked  it  forth  with  an  unflinching  hand,  and 
he  now  met  his  deep-rooted,grief  with  the  same 
lofty  brow  and  unconquerable  will  with  which 
he  would  have  braved  the  tortures  of  the  Dah 
cotah  stake. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

In  which  the  Reader  will  find  a  moral  Uisyuisition  some- 
what tedious,  a  true  Story  somewhat  iucredible,  a  Con- 
ference that  ends  in  Peace,  and  a  Council  that  tietokeua 
War. 

It  is  not  a  feature  in  the  character  of  Indians 
to  do  anything  by  halves;  their  love  and  their 
hate,  their  patience  and  impatience,  their  absti- 
nence and  self-indulgence,  all  are  apt  to  run 
into  extremes.  Moderation  is  essentially  a  vir- 
tue of  civilization ;  it  is  the  result  of  forethought, 
reasoning,  and  a  careful  calculation  of  conse- 
quences, whereas  the  qualities  of  the  Indian  are 
rather  the  children  of  impulse,  and  are  less  mod- 
ified by  conflicting  motives;  hence,  the  lights 
and  shades  of  character  are  broader  and  more 
distinct;  and  though  it  may  be  perhaps  impossi- 
ble that  Indian  villany  should  assume  a  deeper 
dye  than  that  which  may  unfortunately  be  met 
with  among  civilized  nations,  it  is  not  asserting 
loo  much  to  say,  that  there  are  to  be  found 
among  these  savages  instances  of  disinterested, 
self-devoted  heroism,  such  as  are  rarely  heard 
of  beyond  the  world  of  chivaly  and  romance. 

This  assertion  will  be  received  by  many  read- 
ers with  an  incredulous  smile,  and  still  more 
will  be  disposed  to  believe  that  it  can  be  true 
only  in  reference  to  such  virtues  or  actions  as 
are  the  immediate  result  of  a  generous  impulse; 
but  examples  are  not  wanting  to  prove  the  argu- 
ment to  be  defensible  upon  higher  grounds.  It 
will  readily  be  admitted,  that  retributive  justice, 
although  consonant  to  the  first  principles  of  rea- 
son and  natural  law,  cannot,  when  deliberately 
enforced,  be  considered  in  the  light  of  a  sudden 
impulse,  much  less  can  it  be  so  considered  wher. 
the  party  enforcing  it  is  to  be  himself  the  suffer- 
er by  it;  and  those  who  are  conversant  with  the 
history  of  the  Indian  nations  can  testily  that  par- 
allel instances  to  that  which  follows  have  fre- 
quentlv  occurred  among  them. 

Some  years  ago,  a  young  married  Indian,  re- 
siding on  the  western  bank  of  the  Mississippi, 
quarrelled  with  another  of  his  tribe,  and  in  ihe 
heat  of  passion  killed  him  with  a  blow  of  1  'is 
tomahawk.  After  a  few  moments' reflection  he 
walked  direct  to  the  village,  and  presenting  him- 
self before  the  wigwam  of  the  murdered  man, 
called  together  his  relations,  and  addressed  them 
as  follows ; 


88 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  Your  relative  was  my  friend ;  we  were  to- 
gether,— some  angry  words  arose  between  us, — I 
killed  him  on  the  spot.  My  life  is  in  your  hands, 
and  1  have  come  lo  offer  it  to  you ;  but  the  sum- 
mer hunting  season  lias  now  begun.  1  have  a 
wife  and  some  young  children,  they  have  done 
you  no  wrong;  1  wish  to  go  out  into  the  woods 
10  kill  a  plentiful  supply  of  meat,  such  as  may 
feed  them  during  the  winter;  when  I  have  done 
that,  1  will  return  and  give  myself  to  you." 

The  stern  assembly  of  mcurners  gave  their  as- 
sent, and  the  young  man  retired :  for  many  weeks 
he  toiled  indefaligably  iu  the  chase,  his  wife 
jerked  and  dried  the  mea'.  as  he  daily  brought  it 
in,  until  he  saw  that  iht;  supply  was  ample  for 
the  ensuing  winter;  he  then  bid  farewell  to  her 
and  to  his  little  ones,  and  once  more  presenting 
himself  before  the  wigwam  of  his  late  friend,  he 
said,  "I  am  come:  my  squaw  has  meat  for  the 
winter,  my  life  is  now  yours!"  To  these  words 
the  eldest  male  relative  of  the  deceased  replied, 
"It  is  well:"  and  rising  Irom  the  ground,  execu- 
ted on  the  unresisting  offender  the  summary 
justice  of  Indian  retribution,  by  cleaving  his 
skull  with  a  tomahawk.  Neither  the  self  devo- 
tion of  the  one,  nor  the  unrelenting  severity  of 
the  other,  excited  any  peculiar  sensation,  each 
having  acted  according  to  the  strict,  though  ter- 
barous  usage  of  the  tribe. 

Among  a  people  accustomed  to  look  with  sto- 
ic composure  on  scenes  such  as  that  just  de- 
scribed, War-Eagle  had  already  won  a  distin- 
guished name,  and  he  supported  it  on  this  trying 
occasion  by  resigning  what  was  dearer  to  him 
than  life,  and  crushing,  as  under  a  weight  of  iron, 
that  passion  which  had  been  for  years  the  hope 
and  nourishment  of  his  heart;  whether,  albeit 
crushed  and  smothered,  it  still  lingered  there,  is 
a  secret  which  it  is  neither  our  wish  nor  our 
province  to  betray,  but  regarding  which  the  read- 
er may  form  his  own  opinion  from  the  subse- 
quent conduct  of  the  chief 

His  first  step  was  to  seek  Reginald  Brandon, 
whom  he  desired,  by  a  silent  signal,  to  leave  the 
lodge  and  follow  him.  Our  hero  mechanically 
obeyed,  in  a  painful  state  of  excitement  and  agi- 
tation, feeling  that  he  had  been  the  unconscious 
means  of  blasting  all  the  dearest  hopes  of  his  In- 
dian friend;  and  although  he  had  intended  no 
injury,  he  was  sensible  that  he  had  done  one, 
such  as  man  can  rarely  forgive,  and  can  never 
repair;  for  even  had  the  romantic  generosity  of 
friendship  prompted  him  to  resign  all  pretensions 
to  Prairie-bird,  he  felt  that  such  a  resignation, 
while  he  was  secure  of  her  affections,  would  be 
mere  mockery  and  insult.  He  knew  also  how 
prominent  a  feature  is  revenge  in  the  Indian 
character,  and  thought  it  not  improbable  that  he 
might  be  now  following  his  conductor  to  some 
secluded  spot,  where  their  rivalry  should  be  de- 
cided by  mortal  strife,  and  the  survivor  return  to 
claim  the  lovely  prize.  This  last  thought,  which 
would,  under  any  other  circumstances,  have  ner- 
ved his  arm  and  made  his  heart  exult  within 
him,  now  overwhelmed  him  with  sadness,  for  he 
loved  both  Wingenund  and  War-Eagle,  they 
were  endeared  to  him  by  reciprocal  benefits,  and 
ne  shrunk  from  a  quarrel  with  the  latter  as  from 
a  fratricide. 

Meanwhile  the  Indian  strode  rapidly  forward ; 
neither  could  Reginald  detect  the  feelings  that 
lurked  beneath  the  dignified  and  unmoved  com- 
posure of  his  countenance. 

After  walking  in  silence  for  some  minutes. 
Lev  reached  a  small  hollow,  where  a  few  scat- 


tered alder-bushes  screened  them  from  the  or^ 
servation  of  the  stragglers  round  the  skirts  of  th« 
Delaware  camp:  here  the  chief  suddenly  halted, 
and  turning  towards  Reginald,  bent  on  him  ih* 
full  gaze  of  his  dark  and  lustrous  eyes;  the  lat 
ter  observed  with  surprise  that  their  expression, 
as  well  as  that  of  his  usually  haughty  features, 
was  a  deep  composed  melancholy. 

At  length  the  Delaware  broke  the  long  and 
painful  silence,  addressing  his  companion,  after 
ins  imperfect  notion  of  English,  in  the  following 
words : 

"  The  Great  Spirit  sent  a  cloud  between  Netis 
and  War-Eagle — a  very  black  cloud;  the  light- 
ning came  liom  it  and  blinded  the  eyes  of  the 
Lenape  chief,  so  that  he  looked  on  his  brother 
and  thought  he  saw  an  enemy.  The  Bad  Spirit 
whispered  in  his  ear  that  the  tongue  of  Nelis  was 
forked;  that  the  heart  of  Olitipa  was  false;  that 
she  had  listened  lo  a  mocking-bird,  and  had 
mingled  for  War-Eagle  a  cup  of  poison." 

The  Delaware  paused  for  a  moment;  his  eye 
retained  its  steady  but  sad  expression,  his  lips 
were  firmly  compressed,  and  not  a  muscle  be- 
trayed the  intensity  of  his  feeling;  but  Reginald 
appreciated  rightly  the  sell-control  that  had  con- 
quered, in  so  severe  a  struggle,  and  grasping  his 
Itiend's  hand  he  said, 

"Noble  and  generous  son  of  the  Lenape,  the 
Bad  Spirit  has  no  power  over  a  heart  like  yours  5 
Are  we  not  brothers  1  Have  not  the  waters  of 
the  Muskingum,  and  the  treacherous  knife  of  the 
Huron,  tied  our  hearts  together,  so  that  no  fear, 
no  suspicion,  no  falsehood,  can  come  between 
them"?  Netis  believed  that  War-Eagle  loved 
Olitipa  only  as  a  sister,  or  he  would  rather  have 
given  his  scalp  to  Mahega  than  have  spoken 
soft  words  in  the  maiden's  ear !" 

"  My  brother's  words  are  true,"  replied  the 
Delaware,  in  the  low  and  musical  tone  for  which 
his  voice  was  remarkable;  "War-Eagle  knows 
it;  he  has  dreamed,  and  is  now  awake:  Olitipa  is 
his  sister — the  Great  Spirit  decrees  that  no  child 
of  an  Indian  warrior  shall  call  her  mother.  It  is 
enough."  The  countenance  of  the  Delavk-are  as- 
sumed a  sterner  expression  as  he  continued : 

"My  brother  must  be  ready;  let  his  riile  be 
loaded'  and  his  eye  open,  for  Tamenund  has 
seen  the  snow  of  many  winters;  the  Black  Fa- 
ther is  good  and  true,  but  his  hand  knows  not 
the  tomahawk:  the  Osage  panther  will  crouch 
near  the  tent  of  Olitipa,  and  the  feet  of  the  Cut- 
throats* will  not  be  far;  before  the  sun  goes  do'wn. 
War-Eagle  will  see  his  brother  again." 

Thus  saying,  and  waiting  no  reply,  he  return- 
ed with  hearty  strides  towards  the  village.  Re-..ja^ 
ginald  gazed  long  and  earnestly  after  the  retreats 
ing  figure  of  the  Indian,  forgetting  awhile,  in  ad-l 
miration  of  his  heroic  sell-conirol,  the  dangers' 
that  beset  his  beloved  and  his  party. 

"  Could  I,"  he  asked  himself,  '^could  I,  under 
the  same  circumstances,  with  all  the  jight,  and 
aid,  and  high  motives  of  Christianity,  have 
shown  the  forbearance,  generosity,  and  self-com 
mand  displayed  by  this  noble  heathen  1  Could 
I  have  seen  all  my  long-cherished  hopes,  my 
warm  and  passionate  love,  blasted  in  a  moment, 
and  have  so  soon,  so  trankly,  and  so  fully  excul- 
pated and  forgiven  the  man  to  whom  I  owed  my 
misery?  I  hope  I  might  have  done  so,  stiJl  I 
am  afraid  to  ask  my  heart  the  question!" 

Reginald's  cheek  glowed  under  the  influence 


*  The  Sioux,  or  Dahcotahs,  are  so  designated  by  dif 
Missouri  tribes. 


THE    PRAlRIE-BIRD. 


89 


ot  tnis  self-scrutiny,  and  he  gladly  availed  him- 
self of  the  approach  of  Paul  Miiller,  to  whom  he 
related  what  had  passed,  and  expressed  in  the 
warmest  terms  his  admiration  of  his  Indian 
brother's  conduct.  The  good  Missionary  felt  in- 
expressibly relieved  at  hearing  the  amicable  is- 
sue now  announced  to  him,  lor  although  he  had 
never  been  made  a  confidant  of  War-Eagle's 
feelings  towards  Olitipa,  his  own  observation 
had  shown  him  of  late  that  they  were  not  exact- 
ly fraternal,  and  he  had  viewed  with  dread  a  ri- 
valry between  the  two  high-spirited  young  men, 
at  a  crisis  when  the  aid  of  both  might  be  so  ne- 
cessary to  protect  his  fair  pupil  from  the  perils 
by  which  she  was  surrounded. 

Meanwhile  the  machinations  of  Mahega,  which, 
nad  been  conducted  with  his  accustomed  secrecy 
and  cunning,  were  almost  ripe  for  execution ; 
several  runners  had  interchanged  communica- 
tion between  him  and  the  Dahcotah  chief,  the 
latter  of  whom  was  delighted  at  the  prospect 
thus  unexpectedly  offered,  of  taking  vengeance 
on  hi=;  ancient  and  hated  Lenape  foes.  A  secret 
council  of  the  Osages  had  been  held,  at  which  a 
treaty  with  the  Sioux  and  a  rupture  with  the 
Delawares  were  discussed,  and  almost  unani- 
mously carried,  Mahega  appearing  rather  to 
have  coincided  in  the  general  determination  than 
to  have  caused  it  by  his  influence  and  intrigues. 
The  result  of  this  council  was,  that  the  Osage 
village  immediately  struck  their  lodges,  the 
horses  were  driven  in,  skins,  poultry,  provisions, 
and  all  theii  utensils  were  packed  upon  them, 
and  in  a  few  hours  the  whole  body  moved  in  a 
northeasterly  direction  towards  the  upper  fork 
of  the  river  Konzas. 

While  they  were  departing,  the  Delaware 
council  was  summoned  by  a  crier;  Reginald 
and  Eaptiste  were  also  invited  to  attend,  the 
former  in  compliment  to  his  station  in  the  tribe 
as  adopted  brother  of  War-Eagle,  the  latter  being 
recognised  as  a  warrior  of  tried  courage  and 
experience.  The  chiefs  and  braves  having 
seated  themselves  in  a  semicircle,  the  centre  of 
which  was  occupied  by  Tamenund,  the  great 
medicine  pipe  was  first  passed  round  in  silence 
and  with  the  accustomed  solemnities,  after  which 
Tamenund  arose,  and  in  a  voice  feeble  from  age, 
but  distinctly  audible,  proceeded  to  explain  to 
the  assembly  the  affairs  respecting  which  they 
had  met  to  consult.  While  he  was  speaking, 
one  of  the  Indians  appointed  to  guard  the  en- 
trance <i0t'  the  council-lodge  came  in,  and  an- 
nounced a  messenger  from  the  Osage  encamp- 
ment. Tamenund  paused,  and  desired  the  mes- 
senger to  be  introduced. 

All  eyes  were  bent  sternly  on  the  envoy,  who 
'dvanced  with  a  haughty  and  dignified  step  into 
the  centre  of  the  lodge,  where  he  stood  still,  and 
resting  on  a  long  lance  which  he  held  in  his 
right  hand,  awaited,  according  to  Indian  custom, 
a  signal  from  the  council-chief  to  deliver  his  er- 
rand. His  dress,  and  the  paint  by  which  his 
body  was  adorned,  had  evidently  been  prepared 
with  every  attention  to  the  niceties  of  Indian  di- 
plomacy, some  portions  of  it  being  significant 
of  peace  or  alliance,  and  others  of  hostile  prep- 
aration :  his  right  side  was  painted  red,  with 
streaks  of  black ;  on  his  left  arm  he  wore  a 
round  shield  of  buffalo-hide,  a  quiver  of  arrows 
hung  at  his  back,  a  tomahawk  and  knife  were  in 
his  girdle,  and  in  his  left  hand  he  carried  a  large 
string  of  wampum,*  adorned  with  sundry  ribbons 
and  thongs  of  parti-coloured  deerskin. 


*  Wampum,  a  corruption  of  the  word  "  wampampea," 


The  Delawares  recognised  in  the  messenger 
a  young  kinsman  of  Mahega,  one  who  had  al- 
ready distinguished  himself  by  several  feats  of 
daring  gallantry,  and  had  been  lately  enrolled 
among  the  braves  of  his  nation.  He  had  hith- 
erto been  upon  the  most  friendly  terms  with  the 
Lenape,  was  familiar  with  their  language,  and 
had  volunteered  on  more  than  one  occasion  to 
follow  War-Eagle  on  the  war-path;  but  the  lines 
of  paint  and  his  accoutrements  were  now,  as 
has  before  been  observed,  so  carefully  selected, 
that  their  practised  eyes  were  unable  to  decide 
whether  peace  or  war  was  the  object  of  his  mis- 
sion; neither  was  any  inference  to  be  drawn  from 
his  countenance  or  bearing,  for,  after  the  first 
cold  saluation  on  entering,  he  leaned  on  his  lance 
in  an  attitude  of  haughty  indifference.  Under 
these  circumstances  he  was  not  invited  to  sit, 
neither  was  the  pipe  handed  to  him,  but  Tame- 
nund briefly  addressed  him  as  follows: 

"  The  messenger  of  the  Osage  may  speak. 
The  ears  of  the  Lenap6  are  open." 

"Flying-arrow,"  replied  the  young  man,  in  a 
modest  and  quiet  tone,  "knows  that  many  win- 
ters have  passed  over  the  head  of  the  Lenape 
chief;  he  is  sorry  to  speak  hard  words  to  Tame- 
nund." 

"  Let  the  young  warrior  speak  freely ;  Tame- 
nund knows  that  he  is  the  mouth  of  the  Osage 
council,"  was  the  grave  reply. 

"The  Washashee  say  that  the  Lenap6  have 
walked  in  a  crooked  path.  The  council  have 
assembled,  and  the  words  delivered  to  Flying- 
arrow  are  these.  The  Washashee  allowed  the 
Lenape  to  kill  meat  on  their  hunting-ground, 
they  smoked  the  pipe  together,  and  gave  each 
other  the  wampum-belt  of  peace ;  but  the  Lenapo 
hearts  are  white,  though  their  skin  is  red;  their 
tongues  are  smooth  with  telling  many  lies  :  thsy 
have  brought  the  pale-faces  here  to  aid  them  in 
driving  the  Washashee  from  the  hunting-fields 
of  their  fathers!  Is  it  not  truel"  continued  the 
fearless  envoy,  in  a  louder  strain.  "  They  have 
done  all  they  can  to  throw  dirt  upon  the  lodges 
of  those  whom  they  call  brothers.  When  Ma- 
hega offered  to  take  the  daughter  of  Tamenund 
as  his  wife,  what  was  said  to  him  1  Does  not 
the  pale  face  who  crept  upon  him  and  defiled  his 
medicine,  still  sit  and  smoke  at  the  Lenape  fire  1 
Mahega  says,  let  Tamenund  give  him  Olitipa 
for  a  wife,  and  the  pale-face,  called  Netis,  as  a 
prisoner,  and  let  him  send  back  the  other  white 
men  to  the  Great  river;  then  Mahega  will  be- 
lieve that  the  hearts  of  the  Lenape  are  true  to 
the  friendship  pledged  on  this  belt." 

Thus  saying,  he  shook  the  wampum  before 
the  assembled  Delawares  with  an  air  of  proud 
defiance.  A  brief  pause  followed  this  daring 
speech;  the  heart  of  War-Eagle  boiled  within 
him,  but  a  scornful  smile  sat  upon  his  haughty 
countenance,  as  he  waited  composedly  for  the 
reply  of  his  father,  who  seemed  engaged  in  deep 
and  serious  meditation. 

Reginald  had,  of  course,  been  unable  to  follow 
the  envoy's  discourse,  but  his  quick  ear  had  de- 
tected his  own  name ;  and  a  fierce  look,  which 
accompanied  its  pronunciation,  told  hkn  that  he 
was  personally  interested  in  the  object  oC  the 
Osage's  message.  Having  gathered  from  Eap- 
tiste, in  a  whisper,  the  nature  of  Mahega's 
charge  and  demand,  a  flush  of  indignation  col- 
oured his  brow,  but  the  examples  of  self-com- 


small  shells  strung-  together,  and  used  by  the  Indians  fa. 
barter  among  themselves  ;  a  belt  of  wampum  is  the  e~iil>l«  « 
of  peace,  as  the  hatchet,  or  tomahawk,  is  tlxat  o^  war. 


90 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD 


mand  that  he  hart  so  lately  seen,  and  that  he  still 
witnessed  in  tlie  iron  lealurcs  by  which  he  was 
surrounded,  taught  him  to  place  a  like  restraint 
upon  his  own  feelings,  and  to  await  the  repli'of 
the  aged  chief. 

The  latter,  fixing  his  eye  sternly  upon  the  en- 
voy, thus  addressed  him :  •'  Mahcga  has  filled 
lie  young  brave's  mouth  with  lies.  The  hearts 
ol  tlie  Lenapc  are  true  as  the  guiding-star.*  They 
are  faithful  to  ihcir  friends,  they  fear  no  enemies. 
Tamenund  will  not  give  Olitipa  to  Mahega,  nor 
his  adopted  son  to  be  the  Washashce's  prisoner. 
Tamenund  is  old,  but  he  is  not  blind;  Mahega 
wishes  to  become  a  friend  of  the  Dahcotahs.  It 
is  well;  he  will  find  among  the^  hearts  as  bad, 
and  tongues  as  forked  as  hiS  own!  I  have 
spoken." 

A  deep  murmur  of  approbation  followed  the 
aged  chiefs  brief  but  energeiic  harangue,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  concluded,  the  fearless  messen- 
ger drew  a  sharp  knife  from  his  girdle,  and  sev- 
ering the  wampum-belt,  he  ca'st  the  two  halves 
on  the  ground,  saying,  "  It  is  well.  Thus  is  the 
league  between  the  Washashee  and  the  Lenape 
divided  1" 

Baptiste,  to  whom  Reginald  had  again  ad- 
dressed a  kw  words  in  a  whisper,  now  rose,  and 
having  requested  permission  of  Tamenund,  said 
to  the  Osage  messenger : "  Netis  desires  you  to  tell 
Mahega  that  he  is  a  liar — brave  enough  to  frighten 
women,  but  nothing  more.  If  he  is  a  warrior, 
let  him  come  to-morrow  at  sunrise  to  the  open 
prairie,  north  of  the  camp ;  the  friends  of  both 
shall  stand  back  three  arrowflights  apart;  Netis 
■will  meet  him  with  a  rifle  and  a  hunting-knife  ; 
Olitipa  will  not  be  there  to  save  his  life  again !" 

Another  murmur  of  approbation  went  round 
the  assembly,  many  of  whom  had  already  heard 
of  the  rough  treatment  that  the  gigantic  Osage 
had  received  at  Reginald's  hands,  but  hearing  it 
now  confirmed  by  the  lips  of  a  tried  warrior,  like 
Grande-Hache,  they  looked  with  increased  re- 
spect and  esteem  on  the  adopted  brother  of  War- 
Eagle. 

"  Flying-arrow  will  tell  Mahega,"  was  the 
brief  reply  ;  and  the  messenger,  glancing  his  eye 
haughtily  around  the  circle,  left  the  lodge  and 
returned  to  the  encampment  of  his  tribe.  After 
his  departure  the  council  continued  their  delib- 
erations for  some  time,  and  had  not  yet  conclu- 
ded them,  when  a  distant  and  repeated  shouting 
attracted  their  attention,  and  a  Delaware  j^outh, 
of  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  rushed  into  the 
lodge,  breathless,  and  bleeding  from  a  wound 
inflicted  by  an  arrow,  which  had  pierced  his 
shoulder.  A  few  hurried  sentences  explained  to 
the  chiefs  the  news  of  which  he  was  the  bearer. 
It  appeared  that  he  had  been  tending,  in  a  bottom 
not  far  distant,  a  herd  of  horses,  chiefly  belong- 
ing to  Tamenund,  War-Eagle,  and  the  party  of 
white  men,  when  a  band  of  mounted  Sioux 
came  sweeping  down  the  valley  at  full  speed ; 
"wo  or  three  young  Delawares,  who  formed  the 
jut-picquet  on  that  side,  had  been  taken  com- 
pletely by  surprise,  and  paid  with  their  lives  the 
penalty  of  their  carelessness. 

The  wounded  youth  who  brought  the  intelli- 
gence had  only  escaped  by  his  extreme  swift- 
ness of  foot,  and  by  the  unwillingness  of  the  en- 
emy to  approach  too  near  the  camp.  Thus  had 
the  Dahcotahs  succeeded  in  carrying  oft"  by  a 
bold  stroke,  upwards  of  one  hundred  of  the  best 
horses  from  the  Delaware  village;  and  Reginald 


The  North  star  is  often  alluded  to  by  the  Indian  tribes 
««r  tills  aod  other  slmilaT  denominations. 


soon  learned,  to  his  inexpressible  annoyance  and 
regret,  that  Nekimi  was  among  the  number  of 
the  captives.  A  hurried  consultation  followed, 
in  which  War-Eagle,  throwing  ofl"  the  modest 
reserve  that  he  had  practised  during  the  council, 
assumed  his  place  as  leader  of  the  Lenape 
braves,  of  whom  he  selected  forty  of  the  most 
active  and  daring,  to  accompany  him  on  the  dif- 
ficult and  dangerous  expedition  tiiat  was  t3  be 
instantly  undertaken  for  the  recovery  of  'he 
stolen  horses. 

Reginald  and  Baptiste  eagerly  volunteered, 
and  were  instantly  accepted  by  War-Eagle ;  but 
it  was  not  without  some  persuasion  on  the  part 
of  the  Guide,  that  the  chief  allowed  Monsieur 
Perrot  to  be  of  the  party;  that  faithful  valet  in- 
sisted, however,  so  obstinately  upon  his  right  to 
attend  his  master,  that,  on  Baptiste  enjoining 
that  he  should  implicitly  obey  orders,  he  was 
permitted  to  furm  one  of  the  selected  band. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  from  the  receipt  oi 
the  above  disastrous  intelligence,  the  party  left 
the  camp  well  armed  and  equipped,  each  man 
carrying  three  pounds  of  dried  buffalo  meat;  and 
Baptiste  secured  twice  that  quantity  to  his  stur- 
dy person,  thinking  it  probable  that  Reginald's 
endurance  of  hunger  might  not  prove  propor- 
tionate to  his  active  qualities.  The  latter  had, 
indeed,  forgotten  the  meat  altogether,  for  he 
passed  the  last  few  minutes  of  his  stay  within 
the  camp,  in  bidding  farewell  to  "  Prairie-bird," 
and  in  assuring  her  that  he  would  not  be  long 
absent,  but  trusted  soon  to  return  with  his  fa- 
vourite Nekimi.  At  his  departure,  Reginald 
left  the  strictest  orders  with  Bearskin  (who  re- 
mained in  charge  of  his  party)  to  keep  a  faithful 
watch  over  the  safety  of  Prairie-bird,  and  to  fol- 
low the  injunctions  that  he  might  receive  from 
Tamenund  and  Paul  Miiller. 

The  small  band  who,  at  the  instigation  of  Ma- 
hega, had  stolen  th.e  Delaware  horses,  were 
chosen  warriors,  well-mounted,  thoroughly  train- 
ed to  the  predatory  warfare  in  which  they  were 
now  engaged,  and  ready,  either  to  defend  their 
prize  against  an  equal  force,  or  to  baffle  the  pur- 
suit of  a  superior  one.  As  War-Eagle  had  lost 
many  of  his  best  horses,  he  resolved  to  follow  the 
enemy's  trail  on  foot,  but  he  desired  two  or 
three  of  his  most  active  and  enterprising  follow- 
ers, whose  horses  had  not  been  stolen,  to  hover 
on  the  rear  of  the  retreating  party,  to  watch  their 
movements,  and  bring  back  any  intelligence  that 
might  aid  him  in  the  pursuit.  r 

The  select  band  of  Delawares  moved  swiftly 
forward  under  the  guidance  of  their  young  lead 
er;  close  upon  his  steps  followed  Reginald,  bun 
ing  with   impatience  to  recover   his  favou 
steed;  next  to  him  came  Baptiste,  then  Perri 
and  the  remainder  of  the  Lenape  warriors. 

The  prairie-grass,  trodden  down  by  the  hoofs 
of  the  galloping  and  aff'rio^hted  steeds  driven 
from  their  pasture,  aflR)rded  a  trail  that  could  be 
traced  without  difficully,  and  the  trampled  banks 
of  several  slow  and  lazy  streams,  which  they 
passed  in  their  course,'  marked  the  headlong 
course  taken  by  their  fugitive  steeds  and  their 
fierce  drivers. 

We  will  leave  the  pursuers  for  a  time,  ar.d 
follow  the  movements  of  Mahega,  who  was  now 
acting  in  concert  with  the  Sioux,  and  who  con- 
trived by  his  superior  address  to  direct  their 
plans,  as  eom.pletely  as  if  he  had  been  himself 
the  chief  of  their  tribe.  Having  accompanied 
the  Osage  village,  fourteen  of  fifteen  miles  on 
their  route  to  the  northward,  he  ordered  a  halt 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


»1 


oy  the  side  of  a  stream,  in  a  valley  adjacent  to 
the  encampment  of  their  new  allies,  the  two 
bands  forming  a  body  so  superior  in  number  to 
the  Delawares,  that  they  had  no  cause  to  fear  an 
attack,  especially  as  they  learned  from  their 
scouts  that  War-Eagle  and  his  followers  had 
gone  in  an  opposite  direction  in  pursuit  of  the 
horse-stealing  parly. 

The  evening  was  dark,  and  favoured  the  exe- 
cution of  a  plot  which  Mahega  had  formed,  and 
in  furtherance  of  which  all  his  preceding  meas- 
ures had  been  taken.  As  soon  as  the  sun  had 
set,  he  selected  one  hundred  of  the  bravest  and 
most  experienced  warriors  in  his  tribe,  whom  he 
armed  only  with  bow  and  arrows,  knife,  and 
tomahawk ;  strictly  forbidding  the  use  of  any 
firearms ;  for  he  well  knew  that  the  latter  were 
tar  li'om  being  effective  weapons  in  the  hands 
of  his  followers,  especially  in  such  an  expedition 
as  that  in  which  he  was  engaged.  Swiftly  and 
silently  they  moved  under  theif  leader's  gui- 
iance,  who,  directing  his  course  towards  the 
southeast,  brought  them,  after  a  few  hours' 
march,  to  the  line  of  wood  skirting  the  great 
Prairie.  Aware  that  the  warriors  remaining  in 
the  Delaware  encampment  would  be  prepared 
against  any  surprise  from  the  quarter  in  which 
the  Sioux  were  posted,  his  present  object  was  to 
make  his  attack  from  the  opposite  side,  in  order 
to  effect  which,  undiscovered,  the  greatest  skill 
and  rapidity  were  necessary. 

It  was  on  occasions  such  as  these  that  the 
qualities  of  the  Osage  chief  were  most  conspic- 
uously exhibited ;  with  light  and  noiseless  step, 
he  led  his  party  through  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
and  during  a  swift  march  of  many  hours  not  a 
word  was  spoken ;  now  and  then  he  paused  as  a 
startled  deer  rustled  through  the  thicket,  and  once 
or  twice,  when  a  stray  moonbeain,  loieing  its 
way  through  the  ibliage,  silvered'  the  bark  of  the 
s^'caraore,  he  cast  his  eye  upwards,  as  if  to  learn 
fji-om  the  leaves  the  direction  of  the  wind,  or  to 
scan  the  heaven  in  search  of  one  of  those  stars, 
which  the  imperfect,  but  sagacious  astronomy  of 
the  Indians  teaches  them  to  recognise  as  guides. 

Leave  we  them  to  pursue  their  dark  and  cir- 
cuitous path,  and  let  us  transport  the  reader  to 
the  interior  of  the  Delaware  encampment,  where 
(as  it  may  be  remembered)  Bearskin  was  left  in 
command  of  that  portion  of  the  white  men  who 
had  not  accompanied  their  leader  in  pursuit  of 
the  Sioux. 

Paul  Miiller  sat  late  at  night  in  the  tent  of  the 
Prairie-bird;  on  the  rude  table  lay  the  Bible 
from  which  he  had  been  reading,  and  explaining 
,  some  difficulties  that  had  perplexed  her  strong, 
yet  inquiring  mind ;  afterwards  they  had  turned 
the  conversation  to  the  scenes  which  had  occur- 
red within  the  last  few  days,  and  which  were 
calculated  to  inspire  serious  anticipations  of 
coming  evil.  Prairie-bird  made  no  effort  to  con- 
ceal from  her  affectionate  instructor  how  entire- 
ly her  heart  was  given  to  Reginald ;  she  knew 
His  bold  and  fearless  disposition;  she  knew,  too, 
the  wily  cunning  of  the  powerful  tribe  against 
whom  his  expedition  was  undertaken,  and  more 
than  one  heavy  sigh  escaped  her  when  she 
thought  of  the  risks  that  he  must  incur. 

The  good  Missionary  employed  every  possible 
argument  to  allay  her  fears,  but  none  so  effect- 
ively as  that  which  referred  to  the  protection  of 
that  Being  who  had  been  from  childhood  her 
hope,  her  trust,  and  her  shield,  and,  bidding  her 
good  night,  he  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
agitated  spirit  resume  its  usual  composure.    He 


I  then  wrapped  his  cloak  round  his  shoulders,  ana 
went  out  to  see  what  provision  Beai-skin  had 
made  for  the  security  of  the  camp,  during  the 
absence  of  Rcguiald,  War-Eagle,  ;u3d  their  par- 
ty. The  rough  old  boatman  was  smoking  his 
pipe  over  tiie  embers  of  a  fire  in  I'ront  of  the 
lodge  where  he  slept;  beside  him  lay,  half-asleep, 
the  gigantic  Mike  Smith;  and  the  other  white 
men  were  within  the  lodge,  each  having  his  rifle 
within  reach  and  his  knife  and  pistols  in  his  belt. 
Bearskin  returned  the  greeting  of  the  Mission- 
ary with  blunt  civility,  and  informed  him  that 
he  had  been  to  the  lodge  of  Tamenund,  where  it 
had  been  agreed  to  throw  Ibrward  an  outpost  ot 
a  dozen  light,  active  young  Indians,  half  a  mile 
beyond  the  camp,  in  the  direction  of  the  Sioux ; 
runners  had  also  been  sent  round  to  desire  the 
warriors  to  be  ready,  and  all  the  usual  precau- 
tions taken,  such  as  are  observed  by  Indians  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  a  dangerous  enemy. 

Satisfied  with  these  arrangements,  Paul  Mid- 
ler returned  to  his  lent,  and  throwing  himself  on 
the  pile  of  buffalo  skins  that  formed  his  bed,  was 
soon  fast  asleep.  He  knew  not  how  long  he  had 
slept,  when  he  was  aroused  by  a  cry  such  as  none 
who  has  once  heard  it  can  mistake  or  forget. 
Scarcely  had  that  shrill  and  savage  whoop  pier- 
ced the  dull  silence  of  the  night,  when  every  crea- 
ture within  the  encampment  sprang  to  their  feet- 
the  braves  and  warriors,  seizing  their  weapons, 
rushed  to  the  quarter  whence  the  cry  proceeded, 
while  the  women  and  children,  crowding  round 
the  aged  and  defenceless  men,  waited  in  suspense 
the  result  of  the  sudden  and  fierce  attack.  The 
noise  and  the  tumult  came  from  the  northern 
quarter,  that  most  remote  from  the  lodges  of  Tam- 
enund and  Prairie-bird.  Sixty  of  the  chosen 
Osage  warriors  had  fallen  upon  the  small  outpost 
placed  to  give  the  alarm,  and,  driving  them  easi- 
ly before  them  and  killing  some,  entered  the 
camp  almost  simultaneously  with  the  survivors. 
This  band  was  led  by  that  daring  young  war- 
rior before  introduced  to  the  reader  under  the 
name  of  Flying-Arrow,  who  now  burned  with  de- 
sire to  render  his  name  in  the  war-annals  of  his 
tribe  famous  as  that  of  his  kinsman  Mahega. 
Nor  were  the  Delaware  warriors  slow  to  meet 
the  invaders,  with  a  courage  equal  to  tljeir  own  ; 
the  conflict  was  fierce  and  confused,  for  the  moon 
was  no  longer  up,  and  the  pale  stars  were  con- 
tending, in  a  cloudy  sky,  v/ith  the  dim  grey  hue 
that  precedes  the  dawn  of  day,  so  that  the  dusky 
figures  of  the  combatants  were  scarcely  visible, 
and  by  their  voices  alone  could  they  distinguish 
friends  from  foes. 

At  the  first  alarm,  Bearskin,  with  hfs  habitual 
coolness,  ordered  Mike  Smith,  with  three  of  nis 
men,  to  retire  into  the  rear,  to  assist  in  protecting 
the  lodge  of  Tamenund  and  the  tent  of  Prairie- 
bird,  while  he  led  the  remainder  to  check  the 
advance  of  the  Osages  from  the  northward.  Foi 
some  time  the  latter  seemed  to  be  gaining  ground, 
but  the  Delawares,  still  superior  in  number  and 
hastening  to  the  spot,  aided  by  Bearskin  and  his 
followers,  recovered  their  lost  advantage,  and 
the  combat  raged  with  renewed  fury. 

At  this  crisis  Mah6ga,  who  had  succeeded  in 
gaining,  un perceived,  the  valley  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  Delaware  camp,  fell  upon  their  real 
with  his  reserve  of  forty  men  ;  overthrowing  all 
who  opposed  him,  he  forced  his  way  towards  tha 
white  tent,  which  the  advancing  light  of  dawn 
rendered  now  easily  distinguishable  from  t.he 
dark-coloured  lodges  around  it;  shouting  his  bat- 
tle-cry with  a  voice  like  a  trumpet,  he  rushed 


92 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


onward,  caring  not,  apparently,  for  the  scalps 
or  trophies,  but  deteniiiiied  on  securing  the 
prize  lor  which  he  had  already  broken  his  I'aith, 
and  imbrued  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  allies  who 
had  done  him  nv  njury.  A  gallant  band  ol' 
Delawares  surrouniled  their  aged  chief,  whcse 
trembling  hand  now  grasped  a  tomahawk  that 
had  for  twenty  years  reposed  idly  in  his  belt. 
Prairie-bird  had  sprung  from  her  coucii,  and  al- 
ready joined  in  the  brief,  but  earnest  prayer, 
which  Paul  Miiller  breathed  at  her  side;  he 
recognised  the  Osage  war-cr)',  and  divining  the 
chief  object  of  their  terrible  leader,  he  whispered 
solemnly  to  her, 

"  My  dear  child,  if  I  am  soon  taken  from  you. 
Keep,  nevertheless,  your  trust  in  God.  I  see  that 
Knife  still  in  your  girdle;  I  know  what  you  have 
once  dared;  if  it  be  the  will  of  Heaven,  you 
must  be  prepared  patiently  to  endure  pain,  sor- 
row, confinement,  or  oppression ;  remember,  it  is 
only  as  the  last  resource  against  dishonour,  that 
you  may  have  recourse  to  it." 

The  maiden  replied  not,  but  a  glance  from  her 
dark  eye  assured  him  that  he  was  understood, 
and  would  be  obeyed;  many  emotions  contend- 
ed in  her  bosom,  but,  for  the  moment,  reverence 
and  attachment  to  her  affectionate  instructor 
prevailed  over  all  others,  and,  dropping  on  her 
knees  before  him,  she  covered  his  hand  with 
kisses,  saying, 

"  Dear  Father,  if  we  must  be  separated,  bless, 
bless  3'our  grateful  child." 

The  w-ortliy  Missionary,  albeit  accustomed  to 
resign  himself  entirely  to  the  will  of  Heaven, 
could  scarcely  command  himself  sufficiently  to 
utter  aloud  the  blessing  that  he  implored  upon 
her  head ;  but  .he  shouts  and  cries  of  the  com- 
batants were  every  moment  approaching  nearer, 
and  seizing  his  staff,  he  went  to  the  aperture  in 
front  of  the  lodge,  in  order  to  ascertain  how  the 
tide  of  conflict  was  turning. 

The  first  object  that  met  his  view  was  the 
aged  Tamenund,  who  had  fallen  in  his  hurried 
endeavour  to  rush  to  the  combat,  but  was  now 
partly  supported  and  partly  detained  by  his  wail- 
mg  wives  and  daogl;^ers,  while  the  tomahawk 
that  had  dropped  from  his  nerveless  arm  lay 
upon  the  ground  beside  him;  as  soon  as  he  saw 
Paul  MuUer,  he  called  him,  and  said,  in  a  low 
voice, 

"  The  breath  of  Tamenund  is  going ;  he  has 
lived  long  enough ;  the  voices  of  his  fathers  are 
calling  to  him  from  the  far  hunting-fields;  he 
will  go,  and  pray  the  Great  Spirit  to  give  the 
scalps  of  these  snake-tongued  Washashe  to  the 
knife  of  War-Eagle."  After  a  moment's  pause, 
the  old  man  continued:  "I  know  that  the  heart 
of  the  Black  Father  is  good  to  the  Lenap6;  he 
has  been  a  friend  of  many  days  to  the  lodge  of 
Tamenund;  he  must  be  a  father  to  Olitipa; 
she  is  a  sweet-scented  flower;  the  Great  Spirit 
has  given  rain  and  sunshine  to  nourish  its  growth, 
and  its  roots  are  deep  in  Tamenund's  heart;  the 
>  Black  Father  will  not  allow  it  to  be  trodden  un- 
der the  feet  of  Mahega."  While  saying  these 
words  he  drew  from  under  his  blanket  a  small 
cathern  bag^  the  neck  of  which  was  carefully 
closed  with  ligaments  of  deer-sinew  that  had 
been  dipped  in  wax,  or  some  similarly  adhesive 
substance.  "  This,"  he  added,  "  is  the  medicine- 
bag  of  Olitipa;  the  Black  Father  must  keep  it 
when  Tamenund  is  gone,  and,  while  it  is  safe, 
the  steps  of  the  Bad  Spirit  will  not  draw  near 
aer." 

The  Missionary  took  the  bag,  and  concealed  I 


it  immediately  under  his  vest,  but,  before  he  had 
time  to  reply  to  his  aged  friend,  a  terrific  cry  an- 
nounced that  the  Osageshad  succeeded  in  break- 
ing through  the  Delaware  ranks,  and  a  I'earful 
scene  of  confusion,  plunder,  and  massacre  en- 
sued; the  faithful  Missionary  hastened  to  the 
side  of  his  trembling  pupil,  resolved  to  die  in 
defending  her  from  injury,  while  the  air  was  rent 
by  the  shouts  of  the  victors,  and  the  yells  and 
shrieks  of  those  sufiering  under  their  relenlkss 
fury. 

Mike  Smith  and  his  men  plied  their  weapons 
with  determined  courage  and  resolution,  and 
several  of  the  Osages  paid  with  their  lives  the 
forfeit  of  their  daring  attack  ;  still  the  survivors 
pressed  forward,  bearing  back  the  white  men  by 
force  of  numbers,  and  allowing  not  a  moment 
for  the  reloading  of  the  fire-arms.  The  voice  of 
Mahega  rose  high  above  the  surrounding  din, 
and  all  seemed  to  shrink  from  the  terrible  weap- 
on which  he  wielded  as  if  it  had  been  a  light 
cane  or  small-sword ;  it  was  a  short  bludgeon, 
headed  with  a  solid  ball  of  iron,  from  which  pro- 
truded several  sharp  iron  spikes,  already  red  with 
human  blood.  Mike  Smith  came  boldly  forward 
to  meet  him,  holding  in  his  left  hand  a  dischar- 
ged horse-pistol,  and  in  his  right  a  heavy  cutlass, 
with  which  last  he  made  a  furious  cut  at  the  ad- 
vancing Osage.  The  wary  chief  neither  receiv- 
ed nor  parried  it,  but,  springing  lightly  aside, 
seized  the  same  moment  lor  driving  his  heavy 
mace  full  on  the  unguarded  forehead  of  his  op- 
ponent, and  the  unfortunate  w-oodsman  dropped 
like  an  ox  felled  at  the  shambles;  the  fierce  In- 
dian, leaping  forward,  passed  his  knife  twice 
through  the  prostrate  body,  and  tearing  off  the 
scalp,  waved  ^he  bloody  trophy  over  his  head. 

Disheartened  by  the  fall  of  their  brave  and 
powerful  companion,  the  remaining  white  men 
offered  but  a  feeble  resistance,  and  the  Osage 
chief  rushed  onwards  to  the  spot  where  only 
some  wounded  Delawares  and  a  few  devoted 
and  half-armed  youths  were  gathered  around 
the  aged  Tamenund,  determined  to  die  at  his 
side.  It  is  not  necessary  to  pursue  the  sicken- 
ing details  of  the  narrative. 

The  old  man  received  his  death-blow  with  a 
composed  dignity  worthy  of  his  race,  and  his 
faithful  followers  met  their  fate  with  equal  hero- 
ism, neither  expecting  nor  receiving  mercy. 

The  victory  was  now  complete,  and  both 
the  scattered  Delawares  and  the  remaining  white 
luen  fled  for  shelter  and  safety  to  the  nearest 
points  in  the  dense  line  of  forest;  few,  if  any, 
would  have  reached  it  had  not  the  war-pipe  of 
Mahega  called  his  warriors  around  him.  None 
dared  to  disobey  the  signal,  and  in  a  few  minutes:^ 
they  stood  before  him  in  front  of  the  tent  with'Sr^ 
which  the  faithful  Missionary  still  cheered  and 
supported  his  beloved  pupil.  The  fierce  Osage, 
counting  over  his  followers,  found  that  fifteen 
were  killed  or  mortally  wounded ;  but  the  loss 
on  the  pan  of  their  opponents  was  much  heavier, 
without  reckoning  upwards  of  a  score  of  prison- 
ers, whose  hands  and  legs  were  tightly  fastened 
with  bands  of  withy  and  elm-bark. 

Mahega,  putting  his  head  into  the  aperture  of 
the  tent,  ordered  Paul  Miiller  to  come  forth. 

"Resistance  is  unavailing,"  whispered  the 
Missionary  to  the  weeping  girl;  "it  will  be 
harder  with  thee  if  I  obey  not  this  cruel  man. 
Practice  now,  dear  child,  the  lessons  that  we 
have  so  often  read  together,  and  leave  the  issue 
to  Him  who  has  promised  never  to  I^iave  nor 
forsake  those  who  trust  in  him." 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


93 


So  saying,  he  kissed  her  forehead,  and  gently 
disengaging  himself  from  the  hand  that  still 
:lung  to  his  garment,  he  went  forth  from  the 
cent,  and  stood  before  Mahega. 

That  wily  chief  was  well  aware  that  both  the 
Missionary  and  his  fair  pupil  had  many  warm 
friends  among  his  own  tribe ;  there  was,  in  fact, 
scarcely  a  family  among  them  that  had  not  ex- 
perienced from  one  or  both  some  act  of  charity 
or  kindness ;  he  had  resolved,  therefore,  to  treat 
them  without  severity,  and,  while  he  assured 
himself  of  the  person  of  Olitipa,  to  send  her  in- 
structor to  some  distant  spot,  where  neither  his 
advice  nor  his  reproofs  were  to  be  leared.  With 
this  determination  he  addressed  him  briefly,  as 
follows: 

"  The  Black  Father  will  travel  with  my  young 
men  towards  the  east ;  he  is  no  longer  wanted 
here;  he  may  seek  the  lodges  of  the  Lenape 
squaws  beyond  the  Great  River;  he  may  ad- 
vise them  to  remain  where  they  are,  to  dig  and 
grow  corn,  and  not  to  come  near  the  hunting- 
fields  of  the  Washashe.  My  young  men  will 
travel  three  days  with  him ;  they  may  meet 
strangers;  if  he  is  silent,  his  life  is  safe;  if  he 
speaks,  their  tomahav/k  drinks  his  blood ;  when 
they  have  left  him,  his  tongue  and  his  feet  are 
free.     I  have  spoken." 

Mahega  added  a  few  words  in  a  lower  tone 
to  the  young  warrior  who  was  to  execute  his 
orders,  and  who,  with  two  others,  now  stood  by 
his  prisoner;  there  was  a  lowering  frown  on  the 
brow  of  the  chief,  and  a  deep  meaning  in  his 
tone,  showing  plainly  that  there  would  be  dan- 
ger in  disobeying  the  letter  of  those  commands. 
Paul  Miiller,  advancing  a  few  steps,  address- 
ed the  chief  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  with  which 
he  knew  him  to  be  familiar.  "  Mahega  is  a 
great  chiet",  and  the  Black  Father  is  weak,  and 
must  obey  him ;  before  he  goes  he  will  speak 
some  words  which  the  chief  must  lock  up  in  his 
heart.  He  loves  Olitipa;  he  wishes  to  make 
her  his  wife  ;  it  may  be,  after  a  season,  that  she 
may  look  kindly  upon  him ;  hut  she  is  not  like 
other  maidens:  she  is  under  the  care  of  the 
Great  Spirit.  Mahega  is  strong,  but  her  medi- 
cine is  stronger.  She  can  hide  the  moon  behind 
a  cloud,  and  gather  the  fire  of  the  sun  as  the 
daughters  of  the  Washashe  gather  the  river- 
waters  in  a  vessel ;  let  the  chief  remember  the 
Black  Father's  last  words.  If  Mahega  protects 
Olitipa  and  what  belongs  to  her  in  the  tent,  it 
may  be  better  for  him  when  the  Great  Spirit  is 
angry ;  if  he  offers  her  harm  or  insult,  he  will 
die  like  a  dog,  and  wolves  will  pick  his  bones." 
The  Missionary  delivered  this  warning  with 
a  dignity  and  solemnity  so  earnest,  that  the  eye 
of  the  fierce  but  superstitious  savage  quailed 
before  him;  and,  pleased  to  mark  the  effect  of 
his  words,  Paul  Miiller  turned  and  left  the  spot, 
muttering,  in  his  own  tongue,  to  himself,  "God 
will  doubtless  forgive  my  endeavour  to  protect, 
through  this  artifice,  a  forlorn  and  friendless 
maiden,  left  in  the  hands  of  a  man  so  cruel  and 
unscrupulous." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  good  Missionary  had 
completed  the  slight  preparation  requisite  for 
his  journey,  and,  accompanied  by  his  Indian 
escort,  left  the  ruined  and  despoiled  village  with 
a  heavy  heart. 

As  soon  as  Mah6ga  was  somewhat  recovered 
from  the  startling  effect  of  Paul  Miiller's  parting 
address,  he  made  his  dispositions  for  the  further 
movements  of  his  band  with  his  usual  rapidity 
and  decision ;  he  was  well  aware  that  his  posi- 


tion was  now  one  of  great  peril,  that  in  a  shon 
time  War-Eagle  and  his  party  would  be  inform- 
ed of  all  that  had  passed,  and  would  seek  a 
bloody  revenge;  he  knew  also  that  some  of  the 
fugitive  Whites  or  Dela wares  might  speedily 
arm  a  body  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  frontier 
against  him,  and  that  he  would  be  altogetfer 
unable  to  maintain  himself  in  the  region  that  he 
now  occupied. 

Under  these  circumstances  he  made  up  hig 
own  mind  as  to  the  course  that  he  would  pur- 
sue; and  having  first  given  all  the  necessary 
orders  for  the  burial  of  the  Osage  dead  and  the 
care  of  the  wounded,  as  well  as  for  the  security 
of  the  prisoners,  he  called  together  the  heads  of 
his  party,  and,  having  laid  before  them  his  plans, 
asked  their  advice,  with  a  tone  and  manner 
probably  resembling  that  with  which,  a  few 
years  later.  Napoleon  was  in  the"  habit  of  asking 
the  counsel  of  his  generals  and  captains:  a  tone 
indicating  that  his  course  being  already  deter- 
mined, nothing  was  exoected  of  them  but  com- 
pliance. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

War-Eagle  and  Reginald,  with  their  Party,  pursue  th( 
Daiicotahs. 

We  left  Reginald,  and  War-Eagle's  party,  in 
pursuit  of  the  marauding  band  of  Sioux  horse- 
stealers. They  continued  their  toilsome  march 
with  unabated  speed  until  nightfall,  when  the 
trail  was  no  longer  distinguishable:  they  then 
halted,  and  while  they  ate  a  scanty  supper,  the 
mounted  Delawares,  who  had  been  sent  forward, 
returned,  bringing  with  them  two  wearied  horses 
which  had  escaped,  in  the  hurried  flight,  from 
their  captors. 

War-Eagle,  summoning  Baptists  to  his  side, 
questioned  the  young  man  closely  as  to  the  ap. 
pearance  and  direction  of  the  trail.  From  theii 
answers  he  learnt  that  its  course  was  north 
ward,  but  that  it  bore  gradually  towards  the 
east,  especially  after  a  brief  halt,  which  the 
Sioux  had  made  for  refreshments  ;  a  gleam  shot 
athwart  the  dusky  features  of  the  young  chief 
at  this  intelligence,  but  he  made  no  observation, 
and  contented  himself  with  asking  the  opinion 
of  his  more  experienced  companion. 

The  Guide,  taking  off  his  hunting-cap,  allowed 
the  evening  breeze  to  play  through  the  grisly 
hairs  which  were  scattered,  not  too  plentifully, 
on  his  weather-beaten  forehead,  as  if  his  reflec- 
tive powers  might  thence  derive  refreshment ; 
but,  apparently,  the  expedient  was  not,  at  least, 
on  this  occasion,  rewarded  with  success,  for, 
after  meditating  in  silence  for  a  few  seconds,  he 
shook  his  head  and  owned  that  he  saw  no  clua 
to  the  intentions  of  the  party  whom  they  wera 
pursuing.  The  young  chief  had  his  eye  still 
bent  upon  the  ground,  seemingly  employed  in 
observing  a  large  rent,  which  the  day's  march 
had  made  in  his  mocassin;  but  the  wood-s 
man  read  in  the  lines  of  his  intelligent  counte 
nance  that  the  mind  was  busily  engaged  in  fo\ 
lowing  a  connected  train  of  thought. 

After  allowing  a  few  minutes  to  pass  in  si- 
lence, the  Guide,  addressing  his  companion, 
said,  "  Can  War-Eagle  see  the  Dahcotah  path  1 
It  is  hid  from  the  eyes  of  Grand- Hache." 

"The  night  is  dark,  and  the  eyes  cannot  see 
the  trail ;  but  the  wolf  finds  his  way  to  the 


M 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD, 


wounded  bison,  and  the  blue  dove  keeps  her 
course  to  lier  nest  in  the  anountain.  The  Great 
Spirit  has  not  made  the  Lenape  warrior  more 
ignorant  than  the  bird,  or  the  brute  ;  War-Eagle 
knows  the  path  of  the  Dahcotah  dogs."  He 
then  bent  down  tovTards  the  ear  of  Baptistc,  and 
whispered  to  him  long  and  earnestly  in  the  Dela- 
ware tongue. 

"  Capote-blue  !  but  the  boy  is  right,"  exclaim- 
ed the  Guide,  in  his  own  mixed  dialect;  "the 
dogs  have  only  taken  this  northern  start  to  mis- 
lead us ;  they  are  not  making  for  tlie  Missouri 
river,  but  intend  to  double  back  and  join  their 
village,  now  lying  to  the  eastward  of  us.  The 
boy  is  right ;  my  brain  must  be  getting  as  worn- 
out  as  my  hunting  shirt,  or  I  should  have  under- 
stood their  drift.  I  see  his  plan  is  to  lie  in  cash* 
<br  them  on  their  return.  Well,  if  he  can  make 
"iure  of  his  game,  I  will  say  that  he's  fit  to  be  a 
war-chief,  for  these  Sioux  have  a  long  start,  and 
«he  village  must  be  many  miles  to  the  right." 

As  he  made  these  reflections  half  aloud,  Regi- 
lald  caught  their  general  bearing  ;  and  though 
he  had  great  confidence  in  the  sagacity  of  his 
Indian  friends,  still  he  felt  a  chill  of  disappoint- 
ment at  the  idea  that  the  pursuit  was  to  be 
abandoned,  for  what  appeared  to  him  the  hope- 
less chance  of  intercepting  a  small  band  of 
Sioux  of  whose  cour.se  they  were  ignorant,  in  a 
boundless  extent  of  prairie  like  that  around  him. 
He  had,  however,  good  sense  enough  to  conceal 
all  traces  of  his  disappointment,  knowing  that 
on  such  an  expedition  there  can  be  but  one 
leader,  and  that,  without  unanimity  and  disci- 
pHne,  failure  must  ensue. 

War-Eagle  now  called  one  of  the  young 
Lenape  warriors  to  his  side,  and  gave  him  brief 
instructions  to  the  effect,  that  he  was  to  choose 
thiee  others  of  the  best  runners  of  the  party, 
and  accompanied  by  the  mounted  Indians,  to 
start  with  the  earliest  dawn  on  the  Dahcotah 
trail,  which  they  were  to  follow  as  close  as  pos- 
sible without  discovering  themselves.  He  then 
desired  Reginald  and  Baptiste  to  divide  the 
band  into  watches,  and  to  sleep  alternately,  but 
not  to  move  until  he  returned. 

Having  given  lhe.se  few  directions,  without 
allowing  himself  either  food  or  rest  after  a  march 
of  so  many  hours,  he  drew  his  belt  tighter 
around  his  loins,  and  started  on  his  solitary  ex- 
cursion. Reginald  watched  the  retreating  figure 
jf  his  friend  until  it  was  lost  in  the  deepening 
^loom,  and  turning  to  the  Guide  he  said, 

"  Baptiste,  I  cannot  but  envy  War-Eagle  the 
lossession  of  sinews  that  seem  unconscious  of 
atigue,  and  eyes  that  require  no  slumber  !  We 
'lave  marched  from  daylight  until  this  late  hour 
without  either  rest  or  refreshment,  and  I  confess 
I  am  very  glad  of  this  seat  on  my  buffalo-robe, 
md  this  slice  of  dried  venison,  with  a  draught 
>f  water ;  War-Eagle,  however,  walks  off  into  the 
nrairie,  as  if  he  had  just  started  fresh  from  re- 
.♦cise,  and  Heaven  only  knows  where,  or  for 
wtiat  purpose  he  is  going." 

"Master  Reginald,"  replied  the  Guide,  throw- 
ing himself  lazily  down  by  the  side  of  his  young 
leader ;  "  I  will  not  deny  that  War-Eagle's 
sinews  are  strung  like  the  bow  of  a  Pawnee, 
for  I  have  been  on  a  trail  with  him  before,  and 


•  An  expression  used  by  Ihe  Cannriian  hunters  for  an 
am  ■  ush ;  the  "  cache"  is  also  familiar  to  all  readers  of 
w  ;gtern  stoiy,  as  the  place  of  deposit  for  peltries,  or  stores. 


few  could  follow  it  so  .ong  or  so  true ;  but  there 
has  been  a  time,"  he  added,  casting  his  eyes 
down  on  his  worn  and  soiled  leggins,  "when 
these  limbs  of  mine  would  have  kept  me  for  a 
w  eek  at  the  heels  of  the  fleetest  Dahcotah  thai 
ever  crossed  the  country  of  the  Stone-eaters.* 
Those  days  are  gone,  but  when  the  game's  afoot, 
perhaps  there  may  be  younger  men  who  might 
give  out  before  old  Baptiste,  yet." 

As  he  spoke  the  eye  of  the  Guide  rested  with 
a  comic  grin  on  Monsieur  Perrot,  who,  with  i 
countenance  somewhat  rueful,  was  endeavour- 
ing to  masticate  a  crude  pomme  de  prairiet  that 
one  of  the  Delawares  had  given  to  him,  with 
the  assurance  that  it  was  "  very  good  !" 

"  I  believe  you,  Baptiste,"  said  Reginald, 
humouring  the  old  hunter's  pardonable  vanity  ; 
"  I  believe  you,  indeed,  and  if  the  Sioux  offer  us 
a  long  chase,  as  appears  likely,  the  crack  of  your 
rifle  will  be  heard  before  the  foremost  of  our 
party  has  come  to  close  quarters  with  them ; 
but  you  have  not  answered  my  question  rela- 
tive to  War-Eagle's  excursion  during  this  dark 
night." 

"  He  is  gone,"  replied  the  Guide,  "  to  examine 
the  ground  carefully,  perhaps  even  to  approach 
the  northern  border  of  the  Dahcotah  encamp- 
ment ;  he  will  then  judge  of  the  route  by  which 
these  horse-stealing  vagabonds  are  likely  to  re- 
turn, and  will  choose  a  place  for  us  to  conceal 
ourselves  for  an  attack." 

"I  understand  it  all,  Bapti.ste  ;  it  seems  to  be 
a  bold,  well  devised  plan,  if  War-Eagle  is  only 
correct  in  his  guess  at  their  intentions  ;  mean- 
while let  us  post  our  sentries,  and  get  what 
sleep  we  can,  for  to-moirow  may  be  a  busy  day." 

They  accordingly  divided  their  party  into 
watches,  Baptiste  and  Perrot  with  one  Indian 
taking  the  first,  and  Reginald  undertaking  the 
charge  of  the  second.  The  night  was  gloomy, 
and  few  stars  were  visible  through  the  thick 
clouds  by  which  the  heavens  were  overspread  ; 
the  men  were  partially  sheltered  by  some  stunt- 
ed alder-bushes  which  grew  by  the  side  of  the 
stream,  with  whose  waters  they  ha>l  cooled  their 
thirst,  and  those  who  were  not  destined  to  the 
first  watch  soon  fell  asleep,  lulled  by  the  distant 
howling  of  a  hungry  pack  of  prairie  wolve.3. 

Towards  the  close  of  Reginald's  watch,  about 
an  hour  before  daybreak,  a  dusky  figure  glided 
with  noiseless  step  towards  the  encampment ; 
the  young  man  cocked  his  rifle,  in  order  to  be 
prepared  against  surprise,  but  in  the  next  mo- 
ment recognized  the  commanding  form  of  his 
friend,  and  hailed  him  by  name.  ,.  a 

"  Netis  !"  replied  the  chief,  sitting  down  be» 
side  him,  and  wringing  the  water  from  his  leg- 
gins,  which  had  been  saturated  partly  by  the 
heavy  dew  on  the  long  grass  through  which  he 
had  made  his  way,  and  partly  by  the  streams 
which  he  had  been  obUged  to  ford. 


*  The  country  of  the  Stone-eaters,  or,  as  they  are  called 
in  their  own  language,  the  Assinebnins.  This  is  a  branch 
of  the  Great  Sioiux  tribe  to  the  porthward  of  the  Missouil 
river;  the  region  is  peculiarly  wild  and  broken,  and  th« 
Indians  inhabiting  it  are  famous  for  their  pedestrian  ac- 
tivity and  endurance. 

t  Pomines  de  prairie  are  Email  roots,  somewhat  resem 
bling  white  radishes,  that  are  found  in  great  abundance  In 
the  Western  AVilderness,  being  in  some  places  the  only 
esculent  vegetable  within  a  range  of  eeveral  hundred 
miles  ;  when  eaten  raw  they  are  tough,  tastelass,  and  hard 
of  digestion,  but  if  boiled  or  stewed,  are  tolerably  pala- 
J  table  and  -A'holeson.e.  • 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


95 


"  Has  my  brother  found  a  path  V  inquired 
Reginald  in  a  whisper  ;  "  has  he  been  near  the 
Dahcotah  village  1" 

"  He  has,"  replied  the  chief;  "he  has  seen 
their  lodges." 

"  Can  my  brother  find  the  path  by  which  the 
horse-stealers  will  return  1" 

"  He  can  guess,  he  cannot  be  sure,"  replied 
the  young  Indian,  modestly. 

Here  the  conversation  closed,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  little  party  were  aroused  and  a-foot, 
their  leader  being  resolved  that  not  a  moment 
should  be  lost,  as  soon  as  there  was  sufficient 
light  for  pursuing  the  trail. 

When  on  the  point  of  starting,  Baptiste,  ta- 
king War-Eagle  aside,  whispered  in  his  ear  a 
few  words,  on  which  the  latter  appeared  to  re- 
flect seriously  and  somewhat  in  doubt ;  he 
nodded  his  head,  however,  and  replied,  "  Well, 
it  is  good." 

The  Guide  informed  Reginald  that  at  his 
own  request  he  was  to  accompany  the  party  on 
the  trail. 

"  You  see,  Master  Reginald,"  he  continued, 
"  I  am  a  true-scented  old  hound,  and  if  these 
young  ones  run  too  fast,  I  may  perhaps  help  'em 
at  a  pinch ;  then  if  we  catch  the  scoundrels 
you  will  be  in  their  front  and  we  in  their  rear, 
and  they  will  be  as  bad  off  as  a  Kentucky  coon 
between  two  of  old  Dan  Boone's  cur-dogs.  Re- 
member the  signals,"  he  added  impressively, 
touching  the  bugle  slung  across  his  shoulder. 
"  We  have  not  practised  them  of  late,  but  I 
have  forgot  none  of  them  ;  they  may  do  us  a 
good  turn  here  ;  stick  close  to  War-Eagle,  you 
arc  sworn  brothers,  and,  according  to  Indian 
fashion,  if  he  falls  you  must. die  with  him  or  re- 
venge him." 

"  That  will  I,  honest  Baptiste,"  replied  our 
hero  ;  "  the  Lenape  shall  not  say  that  their 
chief  was  deserted  by  his  adopted  brother,  neith- 
er will  I  forget  the  signals — farewell !" 

Here  the  two  parties  separated,  that  of  Bap- 
tiste resuming  their  pursuit  of  the  trail,  and 
that  of  War-Eagle  following  in  silence  the  rap- 
id strides  of  their  young  chief  across  the  prairie 
to  the  eastward.  He  marched  for  several  hours 
in  silence — his  brow  wore  an  expression  of 
thoughtfulness,  and  he  stopped  several  times  as 
if  to  scan  the  bearing  and  the  distance  of  eve- 
ry remarkable  elevation  or  object  in  the  undu- 
lating prairie  which  they  were  crossing.  It  was 
now  about  midday  ;  they  had  walked  since  day- 
break without  halt  or  food  ;  the  rays  of  the  sun 
were  fiercely  hot,  and  it  required  all  the  deter- 
mined energy  of  Reginald's  character,  to  ena- 
ble him  to  endure  in  silence  the  heat  and  thirst 
by  which  he  was  oppressed  ;  as  for  Monsieur 
Perrot,  he  had  contrived  to  secrete  a  small  flask 
of  brandy  about  his  person,  more  than  one 
mouthful  of  which,  mingled  with  the  muddy 
water  of  the  pools  which  they  passed  had  hith- 
erto enabled  him  to  keep  pace  v/ith  the  rest  of 
the  party,  but  he  was  now  beginning  to  lag  be- 
hind, and  some  of  the  Indians  were  obliged  to 
urge  and  assist  him  forward. 

At  this  juncture  War-Eagle  suddenly  stop- 
ped, and  uttering  a  sound  like  a  low  hiss, 
crouched  upon  the  ground,  an  attitude  into 
which  the  whole  party  sunk  in  a  moment.  Lay- 
ing a  finger  lightly  on  Reginald's  arm,  he  point- 
ed to  the  upper  range  of  a  distant  hill,  saying, 


"  There  are  men  !"  Our  hero,  shad.ng  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  looked  in  the  direction  indicated, 
but  after  a  careful  survey,  he  could  see  nothing 
but  the  faint  green  reposing  in  the  sunny  haze 
of  noon;  he  shook  his  head;  but  War-Eagle 
replied  with  a  quiet  smile, 

"My  brother  saw  the  rifles  behind  the  log 
near  the  Muskingum  ;  his  eyes  are  very  true, 
but  they  have  not  looked  much  at  the  prairie ; 
let  him  use  his  medicine  glass-pipe." 

When  Reginald  had  adjusted  his  telescope, 
he  looked  again  to  the  spot  on  which  the  bright 
clear  eye  of  War-Eagle  was  still  rivetted  like 
the  gaze  of  a  Highland  deer  hound,  who  has 
caught  sight  of  a  hart  browsing  on  the  further 
side  of  some  wide  and  rocky  glen. 

"By  heaven,  it  is  true!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
see  them,  one,  two,  three,  mounted  Indians ; 
they  are  at  speed — and  buffalo  are  galloping  be- 
fore them." 

"  That  is  good,"  said  War-Eagle ;  "  keep  the 
glass-pipe  before  them,  and  say  if  they  go  out  ol 
sight,  or  if  more  appear." 

Reginald  did  so  :  and  after  a  few  minutes,  re- 
ported that  they  had  disappeared  over  a  neigh- 
bouring height,  and  that  no  others  had  come  in 
view. 

Upon  this,  War-Eagle  rose,  saying,  "My 
brother  shall  drink  and  rest — there  are  shade 
and  water  not  far."  As  he  had  said,  half  an 
hour's  march  brought  them  to  a  clump  of  stunt- 
ed alders,  beside  which  flowed  a  stream,  the 
waters  of  which  were  tolerably  fresh  and  cool, 
Here  they  ate  some  dried  buffalo  meat,  and  sat- 
isfied their  thirst,  after  which  they  followed 
with  renewed  spirits  their  gay  leader,  whose 
iron  and  sinewy  frame  seemed  (like  that  of  An- 
tasus  of  old)  to  gather  fresh  strength  every 
time  that  his  foot  fell  upon  the  earth.  The 
prairie  through  which  they  now  passed  was  ex- 
tremely hilly  and  broken,  intersected  by  many 
steep  and  narrow  ravines ;  threading  his  way 
amongst  these,  the  chief  frequently  stopped  to 
examine  the  footmarks  which  had  bean  left  by 
bison,  or  other  animals,  and  often  bent  his 
searching  glance  along  the  sides  of  the  hills 
around  him.  The  only  living  creatures  seen 
during  the  whole  march  were  a  few  bulls,  lazily 
cropping  the  prairie  grass,  as  if  conscious  that 
their  tough  carcase,  and  burnt,  soiled  hides, 
rendered  them  at  this  season  worthless  to  the 
hunters,  who  had  driven  from  them  the  cowa 
and  the  younger  bulls  of  the  herd.  Emerging 
from  these  defiles,  the  party  came  to  a  broader 
valley,  the  sides  of  which  were  very  steep ; 
along  the  bottom  ran  a  stream  of  considerabla 
magnitude,  on  the  banks  of  which  was  a  larga 
tract  of  copsewood,  consisting  apparently  of  al- 
der, poplar,  and  birch,  and  affording  ample  space 
for  concealing  a  body  of  several  hundred  men. 

Towards  this  wood,  War-Eagle  led  the  way  ; 
and  when  he  reached  a  few  bushes  distant  from 
it  some  hundred  yards,  he  desired  the  rest  ol 
the  party  lie  still,  while  he  went  forward  alono 
to  explore.  During  his  absence,  Reginald  occu 
pied  himself  with  examining  through  his  glasa 
the  sides  of  the  valley,  but  could  see  neithei 
man  nor  any  other  living  creature ;  and  wher 
War-Eagle  returned  and  conducted  them  into 
the  wood,  Reginald  could  read  on  his  friend'e 
countenance  that  he  was  in  high  spirits  at  hav 
ing  reached  this  point  undiscovered. 


96 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


When  they  came  to  the  centre  of  the  wood- 
land, they  found  a  broad  trail,  near  which  they 
were  carefully  posted  by  the  chief,  in  such  a 
manner  that,  themselves  unseen,  they  could 
command  a  view  of  any  one  passing  along  it. 

The  party  led  by  Baptiste  was  not  less  suc- 
cessful in  carrying  out  the  instructions  given  to 
them   by  War-Eagle.     After  a  rapid  and  toil- 
some march  of  many  hours  upon  the  Dahcotah 
trail,  they  came  at  length  in  sight  of  their  ene- 
mies ;  aitliough  at  a  distance  of  many  miles, 
the  prudence  and  caution  of  the  experienced 
scout  controlled  the   impetuous  ardour  of  the 
young  Deiawares,  who  were  burning  to  revenge 
the  insult  offered  to  their  tribe.     But  Baptiste 
was  aware  that  to  attack  witli  his  present  force 
would  be  hopeless,  and  he  bent  all  his  energies 
to  creep  as  near  to  the  Sioux  as  possible"  so 
that  he  might  be  ready  to  dash  in  upon  their 
rear,  in  case  he  should  find  that  the  ambuscade 
of  War-Eagle  was  successfully  laid  ;    at   the 
same  time,  the  hardy  woodsman  was  determin- 
ed not  to  allow  them,  under  any  circumstances, 
to  gain  the  village  without  making  by  day  or  by 
night  one  bold  effort  for  recovery  of  the  horses. 
A  habit  of  self-control  was  one  of  the  distin- 
guishmg  features  of  the  Guide's  character  ;  and 
although  his  hatred  of  the  Sioux  was  fierce  and 
intense,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  earlier  part  of 
this  tale,  he  now  conducted  his  operations  with 
a  cool  deliberation  that  might  almost  have  been 
mistaken  for  indifference ;    selecting  the  most 
intelligent  warrior  among  the  Lenape,  he  sent 
him  forward  to  creep  on  the  trail ;  he  himself 
followed  at  a  short  distance;    then  the   other 
runners  at  short  intervals,  and  the  mounted  In- 
dians were  desired  to  keep  entirely  out  of  sight 
in  the  rear.     In  this  order  they  continued  the 
pursuit  ;  and  by  the  skilful  selection  of  ground, 
and  taking  advantage  of  every  trifling  hill  or 
ravine  over  which  they  passed,  he  contiived  at 
length  to  approach  as  near  as  he  deemed  it  pru- 
dent to  venture  until  he  should  see  the  result  of 
the  stratagem  devised  by  War-Eagle 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A  (ieseried  village  in  the  West.— Mahega  carries  off 
Prairie-bird,  and  endeavours  to  baffle  pursuit. 

We  must  now  shift  the  scene  to  the  spot 
where  the  Delaware  village  had  been  encamped. 
What  a  change  had  a  few  days  produced  !  The 
lodges  of  the  chiefs,  with  their  triangular  poles 
bearing  their  shields  and  trophies ;  the  white 
tent  of  Prairie-bird,  the  busy  crowds  of  women 
and  children  ;  the  troops  of  horses,  the  songs 
and  dances  of  the  warrior.s — all  were  gone  !  and 
in  their  stead  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  a  flock 
of  buzzards,  gorging  themselves  on  a  meal  too 
revolting  to  be  described,  and  a  pack  of  wolves 
snarling  and  quarrelling  over  the  remains  of  the 
unfortunate  Lenape  victims. 

On  the  very  spot  where  the  tent  of  Olitipa  had 
been  pitched,  and  where  the  marks  of  the  tent 
poles  were  still  easily  recognised,  stood  a  solita- 
ry Indian,  in  an  attitude  of  deep  musing ;  his 
orhamented  hunting  shirt  and  leggins,  proclaim- 
ed his  chieftain  rank ;  the  rifle  on  which  he 
leaned  w^as  of  the  newest  and  best  workman- 
ship, and  his  whole  appearance  was  singularly 
striking ;  but  the  countenance  was  that  which 
wotdd  have  rivetted  the  attention  of  a  spectator, 


had  any  been  there  to  look  upon  it,  for  it  blend- 
ed in  its  gentle,  yet  proud  lineaments,  a  deli- 
cate beauty  almost  feuiiuine,  with  a  high  heroic 
sternness,  that  one  could  scarcely  have  thought 
it  possible  to  find  in  a  youth  only  just  emerging 
from  l)oyhood  :  there  was  too  a  deep  silent  ex- 
pression of  grief,  rendered  yet  more  touching  by 
the  fortitude  with  which  it  was  controlled  and 
repressed.  Drear  and  desolate  as  was  the  scene 
around,  the  desolation  of  that  young  heart  waa 
yet  greater  ;  father,  brother,  friend  !  the  beloved 
sister,  tlie  affectionate  instructor;  worst  of  all, 
the  tribe,  the  ancient  people  of  whose  chieJs 
he  was  the  youngest  and  last  surviving  scion, 
all  swept  away  at  "  one  full  swoop  !"  And  yet 
no  tear  fell  from  his  eyes,  no  murmur  escaped 
his  lip,  and  the  energies  of  that  heroic,  though 
youthful  spirit,  rose  above  the  tempest,  whose 
fearful  ravages  he  now  contemplated  with  stern 
and  gloomy  resolution. 

In  this  sketch  the  reader  will  recognize  Win- 
genund,  who  had  been  absent,  as  was  mention- 
ed in  a  former  chapter,  on  a  course  of  watching 
and  fasting,  preparatory  to  his  being  enrolled 
among  the  band  of  warriors,  according  to  the 
usages  of  his  nation.  Had  he  been  in  the  camp 
when  the  attack  of  the  Osages  was  made,  there 
is  little  doubt  that  his  last  drop  of  blood  would 
have  there  been  shed  before  the  lodge  of  Tame- 
nund,  but  he  had  retired  to  a  distance,  whence 
the  war  cry  and  the  tumult  of  the  fight  never 
reached  his  ear,  and  had  concluded  his  self-de- 
nying probation  with  a  dream  of  happy  omen  ; 
a  dieam  that  promised  future  glory,  dear  to  ev- 
ery ambitious  Indian  spirit,  and  in  which  the  tri- 
umi>hs  of  war  were  wildly  and  confusedly  blend- 
ed with  the  sisterly  tones  of  Olitipa's  voice,  and 
the  sweet  smile  of  the  Lily  of  Mooshanne. 

Inspired  by  his  vision,  the  ardent  boy  return- 
ed in  high  hopes  and  spirits  towards  the  en- 
campment, but  when  he  gained  the  summit  ol 
a  hill  which  overlooked  it,  a  single  glance  suf- 
ficed to  show  him  the  destruction  that  had  been 
wrought  during  his  absence ;  he  saw  that  the 
lodges  were  overthrown,  the  horses  driven  off, 
and  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  moving  village 
were  either  dispersed  or  destroyed.  Rooted  to 
the  spot,  he  looked  on  the  scene  in  speechless 
horror,  when  all  at  once  his  attention  was  caught  ' 
by  a  body  of  men  moving  over  a  distant  height 
in  the  western  horizon,  their  figures  being  ren- 
dered visible  by  the  deep  red  background  af- 
forded by  the  setting  sun  :  swift  as  thought  the 
youth  darted  off  in  pursuit. 

After  the  shades  of  night  had  fallen,  the  re- 
treating party  halted,  posted  their  sentries,  lit 
their  camp-fires,  and  knowing  that  nothing  was 
to  be  feared  from  an  enemy  so  lately  and  so  to- 
tally overthrown,  they  cooked  their  meat  and 
their  maize,  and  smoked  their  pipes,  with  the 
lazy  indifference  habitual  to  Indian  warriors 
when  the  excitement  of  the  chase  or  the  fight 
has  subsided.  In  the  centre  of  the  camp  rose  a 
white  tent,  and  beside  it  a  kind  of  temporary  ; 
arbour  had  been  hastily  constructed  from  reeds  ' 
and  alderboughs ;  beneath  the  latter  reclined 
the  gigantic  form  of  Mahega,  stretched  at  his 
length  and  puffing  out  volumes  of  kinnekenik* 


*  A  mixture  used  for  smoking  by  the  Indians  of  the  Mis- 
souri ;  it  i3  usually  compoeed  of  tobacco,  dried  sumach 
leaf,  and  the  inner  baric  of  the  white  willow,  cut  smal' 
and  mixed  in  nearly  equal  proportions 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


97 


TnoK3,  with  the  self-satisfied  complacency  of 
euccess. 

Wiihin  the  tent  sat  Prairie-bird,  her  eyes 
meekly  raised  to  heaven,  her  hands  crossed  up- 
on her  bosom,  and  a  small  basket  of  corn-cakes 
being  placed,  untasted,  upon  the  ground  beside 
ner  ;  at  a  little  distance,  in  the  corner  of  the 
tent,  sate  her  female  Indian  attendant,  whom 
Mahega  had  permitted,  with  a  delicacy  and  con- 
sideration scarcely  to  be  expected  from  him,  to 
share  her  mistress's  captivity.  He  had  also 
given  orders  that  all  the  lighter  articles  belong- 
ing to  her  toilet,  and  to  the  furniture  of  her  tent, 
should  be  conveyed  with  the  latter,  so  that  as 
yet  both  her  privacy  and  her  comfort  had  been 
faAhfuUy  secured. 

Guided  by  the  fires,  Wingenund,  who  had  fol- 
h/wed  with  unabated  speed,  had  no  difficulty  in 
finding  the  Osage  encampment ;  neither  was 
his  intelligent  mind  at  a  loss  to  apprehend  what 
had  occurred  ;  he  had  long  known  the  views 
:ind  plans  entertained  by  Mahega  respecting 
Prairie-bird,  and  when,  from  a  distant  eminence 
he  caught  a  sight  of  her  vi-hite  tent  pitched  in 
the  centre  of  a  retreating  Indian  band,  he  un- 
derstood in  a  moment  her  present  situation,  and 
Ihe  disastrous  events  that  had  preceded  it ;  al- 
ihough  he  believed  that  both  War-Eagle  and 
Rcgmald  must  have  fallen  ere  his  sister  had 
been  made  a  captive,  he  resolved  at  all  hazards 
to  conmiunicate  with  her,  and  either  to  rescue 
her  or  die  in  the  attempt. 

Having  been  so  long  encamped  with  the  Osa- 
ges,  he  was  tolerably  well  versed  in  their  lan- 
guage, and  he  also  knew  so  well  ihe  general 
disposition  of  their  outposts  that  he  had  no 
doubt  of  being  able  to  steal  into  their  camp. 
As  soon  as  he  had  gained,  undiscovered,  the 
shelter  of  a  clump  of  alders,  only  a  few  bowshots 
distant  from  the  nearest  fire,  he  stripped  offand 
concealed  his  hunting  shirt,  cap,  leggins,  and 
other  accoutrements,  retaining  only  his  belt,  in 
which  he  liid  a  small  pocket-pistol,  lately  given 
to  him  by  Reginald,  and  his  scalp-knife,  sheath- 
ed in  a  case  of  bison-hide.  Thus  lightly  arm- 
ed, he  threw  himself  upon  the  grass,  and  com- 
menced creeping  like  a  serpent  towards  the 
Osage  encampment. 

Unlike  the  sentries  of  civilized  armies,  those 
of  the  North  American  Indians  frequently  sit  at 
their  appointed  station,  and  trust  to  their  extra- 
ordinary quickness  of  sight  and  hearing  to  guard 
them  against  surprise.  Ere  he  had  crept  many 
yards,  Wingenund  found  himself  near  an  Indian, 
seated  with  his  back  against  the  decayed  stump 
of  a  tree,  and  whiling  away  his  watch  by  hum- 
ming a  low  and  melancholy  Osage  air ;  fortu- 
nately, the  night  was  dark,  and  the  heavy  dew 
had  so  softened  the  grass,  that  the  boy's  pliant 
and  elastic  form  wound  its  onward  way  without 
the  slightest  noise  being  made  to  alarm  the  lazy 
sentinel.  Having  passed  this  outpost  in  safety, 
tie  continued  his  snaky  progress,  occasionally 
raising  his  head  to  glance  his  quick  eye  around 
and  observe  the  nature  of  the  obstacles  that  he 
had  yet  to  encounter ;  these  were  less  than  he 
expected,  and  he  contrived  at  length  to  trail 
himself  to  the  back  of  Olitipa's  tent,  where  he 
ensconced  himself  unperceived  under  cover  of 
a  large  buflfalo  skin,  which  was  loosely  thrown 
iver  her  saddle  to  protect  it  from  the  weather. 
His  first  object  was  to  scoop  out  a  few  inches 
G 


of  the  turf  below  the  edge  of  the  tent,  in  order 
that  he  might  conveniently  hear  or  be  heard  by 
her  without  raising  his  voice  above  the  Icweat 
whisper. 

After  listening  attentively  for  a  few  minutes, 
a  gentle  and  regular  breathing  informed  him 
that  one  sleeper  was  within  ;  but  Wingenund, 
whose  sharp  eyes  had  already  observed  that 
there  were  two  saddles  under  the  buffalo  robe 
which  covered  him,  conjectured  that  her  attend 
ant  was  now  her  companion  in  captivity,  and 
that  the  grief  and  anxiety  of  Olitipa  had  proba- 
bly banished  slumber  from  her  eyes.  To  re- 
solve these  doubts,  and  to  effect  the  purpose  ot 
his  dangerous  attempt,  he  now  applied  hia 
mouth  to  the  small  opening  that  he  had  made 
at  the  back  of  the  tent,  and  gave  a  low  and  al- 
most inaudible  sound  from  his  lips  hke  the  chirp- 
ing of  a  cricket.  Low  as  it  was,  the  sound  es- 
caped not  the  quick  ear  of  Olitipa,  who  turned 
and  listened  more  intently, — again  it  was  re- 
peated, and  the  maiden  felt  a  sudden  tremour 
of  anxiety  pervade  her  whole  frame,  as  from  an 
instinctive  consciousness  that  the  sound  was  a 
signal  intended  for  her  ear. 

Immediately  in  front  of  the  lodge  were  stretch- 
ed the  bulky  forms  of  two  half  slumbering  Osa- 
ges.  She  knew  that  the  dreaded  Mahega  was 
only  a  few  paces  distant,  and  that  if  some  friend 
were  indeed  near,  the  least  indiscretion  on  her 
part  might  draw  down  upon  him  certain  de- 
struction •.  but  she  was  courageous  by  nature, 
and  habit  had  given  her  presence  of  mind.  Be- 
ing aware  that  few,  if  any,  of  her  captors  spoke 
the  English  tongue,  she  said,  in  a  low,  but  dis- 
tinct voice,  "  If  a  friend  is  near,  let  me  hear  the 
signal  again !" 

Immediately  the  cricket-chirrup  was  repeat- 
ed. Convinced  now  beyond  a  doubt  that  friend- 
ly succour  was  nigh,  the  maiden's  heart  throb- 
bed with  hope,  fear,  and  many  contending  emo- 
tions, but  she  lost  not  her  self-possession  ;  and 
having  now  ascertained  the  spot  whence  the 
sound  proceeded,  she  moved  the  skins  which 
formed  her  couch  to  that  part  of  the  tent,  and 
was  thus  enabled  to  rest  her  head  within  a  few 
inches  of  the  opening  made  by  Wingenund  be- 
low the  canvass. 

"  Prairie-bird,"  whispered  a  soft  voice  close 
to  her  ear,  a  voice  that  she  had  a  thousand 
times  taught  to  pronounce  her  name,  and  every 
accent  of  which  was  familiar  to  her  ear. 

"  My  brother  !"  was  the  low-breathed  reply. 

"  If  the  Washashe  do  not  hear,  let  my  sister 
tell  all,  in  few  words." 

As  Prairie-bird  briefly  described  the  events 
above-narrated,  Wingenund  found  some  com- 
fort in  the  reflection  that  War-Eagle,  Reginald, 
and  their  band  had  escaped  the  destruction 
which  had  overwhelmed  the  Lenape  village : 
when  she  concluded,  he  replied, 

"  It  is  enough,  let  my  sister  hope ;  let  her 
speak  fair  words  to  Mahega — Wingenund  will 
find  his  brothers,  they  will  follow  the  trail,  my 
sister  must  not  be  afraid  ;  many  days  and  nights 
may  pass,  but  the  Lenape  will  be  near  her,  and 
Netis  will  be  with  them.  Wingenund  must 
go." 

How  fain  was  Prairie-bird  to  ask  him  a  thou- 
sand questions,  to  give  him  a  thousand  cautions, 
and  to  send  as  many  messages  by  him  to  her 
lover ;  but,  trained  in  the  severe  school  of  la- 


08 


THE   PRAIRIE. BIRD. 


dian  discipline,  she  knew  that  every  word  spo- 
ken or  whispered  increased  the  danger  already 
incurred  hy  VVingenund,  and  in  obedience  to  his 
hint  she  contented  herself  with  silently  invoking 
tln!  blessing  of  Heaven  on  the  promised  attempt 
to  be  made  by  himself  and  his  beloved  coadju- 
to  8  for  her  rescue. 

That  pale-faced  maiden  speaks  to  herself 
alf  through  the  night,"  said  one  of  the  Osage 
warriors  to  his  comrade  stretched  beside  him 
before  the  tent. 

"  I  heard  a  sort  of  murmuring  sound,"  replied 
the  other  ;  "  bin  I  shut  my  ears.  Mahega  says 
that  her  w  ->ids  are  like  the  voices  of  spirits  ;  it 
is  not  good  to  listen  !  Before  this  moon  is 
older  I  will  ask  her  to  curse  Paketshu,  that 
Pawnee  wolf  who  killed  my  two  brothers  near 
the  Nebraske."* 

Profiting  bv  this  brief  dialogue,  Wingennnd 
crept  from  under  the  buffalo  skin,  and  looking 
carefully  around  to  see  whether  any  new  change 
had  taken  place  since  his  concealment,  he  found 
that  several  of  the  Osage  warriors,  who  had 
been  probably  eating  together,  were  now  stretch- 
ed around  the  tent,  and  it  was  hopeless  to  at- 
tempt passing  so  many  cunning  and  vigilant  foes 
undiscovered.  While  he  was  meditating  on 
the  best  course  to  be  pursued,  his  attention  was 
called  to  a  noise  immediately  in  front  of  the 
tent,  which  was  caused  by  the  horse  ridden  by 
Olitipa  having  broken  from  its  tether  and  entan- 
gled its  legs  in  the  halter.  Springing  on  his 
feet,  Wingenund  seized  the  leather  thong,  using 
at  the  same  time  the  expressions  common 
among  the  Osages  for  quieting  a  fractious  horse. 

"  What  is  if!"  exclaimed  at  once  several  of 
the  Osage  warriors,  half  raising  themselves  from 
their  recumbent  posture. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Wingenund,  in  their  own 
tongue  ;  "  the  pale-faced  squaw's  horse  has  got 
loose." 

So  saying  he  stooped  leisurely  down,  and  fas- 
tened the  laryette  again  to  the  iron  pin,  from 
which  it  had  been  detached.  Having  secured 
the  horse,  he  stood  up  again,  and  stepped  coolly 
over  several  of  the  Osages  stretched  around  the 
tent ;  and  they,  naturally  mistaking  him  for  one 
of  their  own  party,  composed  themselves  again 
to  sleep.  Thus  he  passed  through  the  encamp- 
ment, when  he  again  threw  himself  upon  the 
ground,  and  again  succeeded  in  eluding  the  vi- 
gdance  of  the  outposts,  and  in  reaching  safely 
the  covert  where  he  had  left  his  rifle  and  his 
accoutrements. 

The  active  spirit  of  Wingenund  was  not  yet 
wearied  of  exertion.  Seeing  that  the  course 
taken  by  the  Osages  was  westerly,  he  went  for- 
ward in  that  direction,  and  having  ascended  an 
elevated  height  commanding  a  view  of  the  ad- 
joining valleys,  he  concealed  himself  with  the 
intention  of  watching  the  enemy's  march. 

On  the  following  morning  the  Osages  started 
at  daybreak,  and  marched  until  noon,  when  Ma- 
hega  halted  them,  and  put  in  execution  the 

•  Tlie  Indians  believe  that  some  persons  have  (he  pow- 
er of  injurinp,  or  even  of  killing  others  at  a  distance  of  many 
hundred  miles,  l>y  chanriB  and  spelU:  this  belief  in  witch- 
craft is  constonily  noticed  by  Tanner  and  others,  who 
have  resided  long  among  the  Indians,  and  it  seems  to 
have  been  especially  prevalent  among  the  Oggibeways 
and  other  northern  tribes.  In  illustration  of  a  similar  no- 
tjor  in  the  eastern  hemisphere,  see  Burrow's  Zincali,  or 
Ch«  Gypsies  of  Spain,  vol.  i.  chap.  U.  on  the  £vU  Eye. 


plan  that  he  had  formed  for  throwing  of!  any 
pursuit  that  miglit  be  attempted.  He  had 
brought  four  horses  from  the  Delaware  encamp- 
ment ;  of  these  he  retained  two  for  the  use  of 
Prairie-bird  and  her  attendant,  and  ordered  their 
hoofs  to  be  covered  with  thick  wrappers  of  bisi>n 
hide  ;*  he  selected  also  ten  of  the  warriors,  on 
whose  courage  and  fidelity  he  couhl  best  de- 
pend ;  the  remainder  of  the  band  he  dismissed, 
under  the  conduct  of  the  Flying-arrow,  with  tha 
remaining  two  horses  laden  with  a  poriicm  of 
the  Delaware  spoils  and  tropiiies,  desiring  ihem 
to  strike  ofT  to  the  northward,  and  making  a 
trail  as  distinct  as  possible,  to  return  by  a  cir- 
cuitous march  to  the  Osage  village.  These  or- 
ders were  punctually  obeyed,  and  Mahega,  hav- 
ing seen  the  larger  rnoiely  of  his  band  start  on 
their  appointed  route,  led  off  iiis  own  small 
party  in  a  south-westerly  direction,  through  the 
hardest  and  roughest  surface  that  the  prairie 
afTorded.  where  he  rightly  judged  that  their 
trail  could  with  difficulty  be  followed,  even  by 
the  lynx-eyed  chief  of  the  Delawares. 

From  his  concealment  in  the  distance,  Win- 
genund observed  the  whole  manoeuvre  ;  and 
having  carefully  noted  the  very  spot  where  the 
two  trails  separated,  he  ran  back  to  the  desert- 
ed Lenape  village  to  carry  out  the  plan  that  he 
had  formed  for  the  pursuit.  On  his  way  he 
gathered  a  score  of  pliant  wdlow  rods,  and  these 
lay  at  his  feet  when  he  stood  in  the  attitude  of 
deep  meditation,  described  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  chapter.  He  know  that  if  War- 
Eagle  and  his  party  returned  in  safety  from 
their  expedition,  their  steps  would  be  directed 
at  once  to  the  spot  on  which  he  now  stood,  and 
his  first  care  was  to  convey  to  them  all  the  in- 
formation necessary  for  their  guidance.  This 
he  was  enabled  to  do  by  marking  witli  his  knife 
on  slips  of  elm  bark  various  figures  and  designs, 
which  War-Eagle  would  easily  understand.  To 
describe  these  at  length  would  be  tedious,  in  a 
narrative  such  as  the  present;  all  readers  who 
know  anything  of  the  history  of  the  North  Amer- 
ican Indians  being  aware  of  their  sagacity  in 
the  use  of  these  rude  hieroglyphics  ;  it  is  suffi- 
cient here  to  state,  that  Wingenund  was  able  to 
e.vpress,  in  a  manner  intelligible  to  his  kinsman, 
that  he  himself  marked  the  elm-bark,  that  Olit- 
ipa was  prisoner  to  Mahega,  that  the  Osage 
trail  was  to  the  west ;  that  it  divided,  the  broad 
trail  to  the  north  being  the  wrong  one ;  and  that 
he  would  hang  on  the  right  one  and  make  more 
marks  for  War-Eagle  to  follow. 

Having  carefully  noted  these  particulars,  he 
stuck  one  of  his  rods  into  the  ground  and  fast- 
ened to  the  lop  of  it  his  roll  of  elm-bark  ;  then 
giving  one  more  melancholy  glance  at  the  des- 
olate scene  around  him,  he  gathered  up  his  wd- 
low twigs,  and  throwing  himself  again  upon  the 
Osage  trail,  never  rested  his  weary  limbs  until 
the  burnt  grass,  upon  a  spot  where  the  party 
had  cooked  some  bison-meat,  assured  hiin  that 
he  was  on  their  track ;  then  he  laid  himself 
under  a  neighbouring  bush  and  slept  soundly, 
trusting  to  his  own  sagacity  for  following  the 
trail  over  the  boundless  prairie  before  him. 


•  This  method  of  baffling  pursuit  is  not  unfrequently 
resorted  to  tlio  by  Indian  marauders.  The  reader  of  Siiak- 
si)eare  (and  who  that  can  read  is  not!)  will  reiuembw 
Lear's — 

"  It  were  a  delicate  stratagem  to  shoe 
A  troop  of  horse  with  felt :" 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


99 


While  these  events  were  passing  on  the  Mis- 
8  uri  Prairie,  PaulMiiller  having  been  escorted 
to  the  settlements  and  set  free  by  the  Osages, 
pursued  his  way  towards  St.  Louis,  then  the 
nucleus  of  Western  trade,  and  the  point  whence 
all  expeditions,  whether  of  a  warlike  or  commer- 
cial nature,  were  carried  on  in  that  region. 
He  was  walking  slowly  forward,  revolving  in  his 
mind  the  melancholy  changes  that  had  lakcn 
place  in  the  coarse  of  the  last  few  weeks,  the 
destruction  of  the  Lenape  band,  and  the  captiv- 
ity of  his  beloved  pupil,  when  he  was  overtaken 
by  a  sturdy  and  weatherbeaten  pedestrian, 
whose  person  and  attire  seemed  to  have  been 
roughly  handled  of  late,  for  his  left  arm  was  in 
a  sling,  various  patches  of  plaster  were  on  his 
face  and  forehead,  his  leggins  were  torn  to  rags, 
and  the  barrel  of  a  rifle  broken  off  from  the 
stock  was  slung  over  his  shoulder. 

The  Missionary,  turning  round  to  greet  his 
fellow-traveller  with  his  accustomed  courtesy, 
encountered  a  countenance,  which,  notwith- 
standing its  condition,  he  recognized  as  one 
that  he  had  seen  in  the  Delaware  village. 

"  Bearskin,  my  good  friend,"  said  he,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand,  and  grasping  heartdy  the 
horny  fist  of  the  voyageur,  "  I  am  right  glad  to 
see  you,  although  it  seems  that  you  have  receiv- 
ed some  severe  hurts  ;  I  feared  that  you  had 
fallen  among  the  other  victims  of  that  terrible 
day." 

"  I  can't  deny  that  the  day  was  rough  enough," 
replied  Bearskin,  looking  down  upon  his  wound- 
ed arm  ;  "and  the  redskin  devils  left  only  one 
other  of  my  party  beside  myself  alive;  we  con- 
trived to  beat  off  those  who  attacked  our  quar- 
ter, but  when  we  found  that  Mahega  had  broken 
in  upon  the  rear,  and  had  killed  Mike  Smith  and 
his  men,  we  made  the  best  of  our  way  to  the 
woods,  several  were  shot  and  scalped,  two  of 
us  escaped  ;  I  received,  as  you  see,  a  few  ugly 
scratches,  but  my  old  carcase  is  accustomed  to 
being  battered,  and  a  week  will  set  it  all  to 
rights." 

"  You  know,"  replied  the  Missionary,  "  that 
I  have  some  skill  in  curing  woulds.  When  we 
reach  St.  Louis  we  will  take  up  our  lodging  in 
he  same  house,  and  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  re- 
lieve your  hurts.  Moreover,  there  are  many 
things  on  which  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  at  lei- 
sure, and  I  have  friends  there  who  will  supply 
us  with  all  that  is  needful  for  our  comfort." 

While  they  were  thus  conversing,  the  tall 
spires  of  the  cathedral  became  visible  over  the 
forest,  which  then  grew  dense  and  unbroken  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  town,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Bearskin,  conducted  hy  the  Missionary  was 
snugly  lodged  in  the  dwelling  of  one  of  the 
wealthiest  peltry -dealers  in  the  famous  frontier 
city  of  St.  Louis. 


CHAPTER  XXVHL 

An  nmbuscade. — Regintild  Brandon  finds  h\»  horse,  and 
M.  Perrot  nearly  loses  his  head. — While  Indian  Philos- 
ophy is  dis|ilayed  in  one  quarter,  Indiaa  credulity  is  ex- 
hibited in  another. 

We  left  War-Eagle  and  his  party  posted  in  a 
tnicket  of  considerable  extent,  in  the  centre  of 
a  valley  through  which  he  had  calculated  that 
the  iTJi^fauding  band  of  Sioux  would  return  with 


the  captured  horses  to  their  village ;  long  and 
anxiously  did  he  wait  in  expectation  df  their  ap- 
pearance ;  and  both  himself  and  Reginald  be- 
gan to  fear  that  they  must  have  taken  some 
other  route,  when  they  saw  at  a  distance  an  In 
dian,  galloping  down  the  valley  towards  them; 
as  he  drew  near,  the  head-dress  of  eagle's  feath- 
ers, the  scalplocks  on  his  leather  hunting  shirt, 
and  the  fringes  by  which  his  leggins  were 
adorned,  announced  him  to  the  practiced  eye  ot" 
the  young  Delaware  chief,  as  a  Dahcctah  brave 
of  some  distinction  ;  but  what  was  the  aston- 
ishment of  Reginald,  at  recognizing  in  the  fiery 
steed  that  bore  hitn,  his  own  lost  Nekiini.  By 
an  unconscious  movement  he  threw  forward  his 
ritle  over  the  log  which  concealed  him,  and  was 
preparing  to  secure  a  certain  aim,  when  War- 
Eagle,  touching  his  arm,  whispered,  "  Netis  not 
shoot,  more  Dahcotahs  are  coming, — noise  of 
gun  not  good  here,  Netis  have  enough  fight 
soon, — leave  this  man  to  War-Eagle,  he  give 
Netis  back  his  horse." 

Reginald,  although  disappointed  at  not  being 
allowed  to  take  vengeance  on  the  approaching 
savage,  saw  the  prudence  of  his  friend's  counsel, 
and  suffering  himself  to  be  guided  by  it,  waited 
patiently  to  see  how  the  Delaware  proposed  to 
act.  The  latter,  laying  aside  his  rifle,  and  arm- 
ed only  with  his  scalp-knife  and  tomahawk, 
crept  to  a  thick  bush  on  the  edge  of  the  broad 
trail  passing  through  the  centre  of  the  thicket  ; 
in  his  hand  he  took  a  worn-out  mocassin,  which 
he  threw  carelessly  upon  the  track,  and  then 
ensconced  himself  in  a  hiding-place  which  he 
had  selected  for  his  purpose.  The  DahcotaU 
warrior,  who  had  been  sent  forward  by  his  chief 
to  reconnoitre,  and  to  whom  Nekimi  had  beea 
lent  on  account  of  the  extraordinary  speed 
which  that  animal  hatf  been  found  to  possess, 
slackened  his  speed  as  he  entered  the  thicket, 
and  cast  his  wary  eyes  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  glancing  occasionally  at  the  sides  of  the 
hills  which  overhung  the  valley. 

The  Delawares  were  too  well  concealed  to  be 
seen  from  the  path,  and  he  rode  slowly  forward 
until  he  came  to  the  spot  where  lay  the  mocas- 
sin thrown  down  by  War-Eagle. 

"Ha  !"  said  the  Sioux,  uttering  a  hasty  ejacu- 
lation, and  leaping  from  his  horse  to  examine 
its  fashion.  As  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up  XVar- 
Eagle  sprung  like  a  tiger  upon  him,  and  with  a 
single  blow  of  his  tomahawk  laid  the  unfortu- 
nate warrior  dead  at  his  feet.  Throwing  Neki- 
mi's  bridle  over  his  anm,  he  drew  the  body  into 
the  adjacent  thicket,  and,  having  found  in  the 
waistband  the  small  leathern  bag  in  which  the 
Indians  of  the  Missouri  usually  carry  the  differ- 
ent coloured  clays  wherewith  they  paint  them- 
selves, he  proceeded  to  transform  himself  into 
a  Sioux.  Putting  on  the  Dahcotah  head-dress 
and  other  apparel,  aided  by  one  of  the  most  ex- 
perienced of  his  band,  he  disguised  himself  in  a 
few  minutes  so  effectually  that,  unless  upon  a 
very  close  inspection,  he  might  well  be  taken 
for  the  Indian  whom  he  had  just  killed. 

As  soon  as  this  operation  was  completed,  he 
desired  Reginald  and  the  rest  of  the  party  to 
remain  concealed,  and  if  he  succeeded  in  luring 
the  enemy  to  the  spot,  on  no  account  to  fire 
until  their  main  body  had  reached  the  bush 
from  which  he  had  sprung  on  the  Sioux,  Hav- 
ing given  this  instruction,  he  vaulted  on  Neki- 


100 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


ni's  back,  and  returned  at  speed  to  the  upper 
part  ot  th«  valley,  from  which  direction  he  knew 
that  the  Dahcotahs  must  be  approaching.  He 
had  not  ridden  inanv  miles  ere  he  saw  them 
advancmg  at  a  leisurely  rate,  partly  driving 
before  them,  and  partly  leading,  the  horses 
stolen  from  the  Delawares.  This  was  an  oc- 
casion on  which  War-Eagle  required  all  his 
sagacity  and  presence  of  mind,  for  should  he 
betray  himself  by  a  false  movement  or  gesture, 
not  only  would  the  enemy  escape  the  snare  laid 
for  them,  but  his  life  would  pay  the  forfeit  of 
his  temerity.  Wheeling  his  horse  about,  he 
returned  towards  the  thicket,  and,  after  riding 
to  and  frw,  as  if  making  a  careful  investigation 
of  its  paths  and  foot- marks,  he  went  back  to 
the  broad  trail,  and  as  soon  as  the  foremost  of 
the  Dahcotahs  were  within  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards,  he  made  the  signal  "All  right,"*  and 
rode  gently  forward  through  the  wood.  So 
well  did  his  party  observe  the  orders  which  he 
had  given  them,  that,  although  he  knew  the 
exact  spot  where  they  were  posted,  and  scanned 
it  with  the  most  searching  glance  of  his  keen 
eye,  not  a  vestige  of  a  human  figure,  nor  of  a 
weapon  could  he  detect,  and  a  smile  of  triumph 
curled  his  lip  as  he  felt  assured  of  the  suc- 
cess of  his  plan.  No  sooner  had  he  passed  the 
bush  where  the  Dahcotah  had  fallen,  than  he 
turned  aside  into  the  thicket,  and,  having  fas- 
tened Nekimi  securely  to  a  tree,  tore  off  his 
Sioux  disguise,  and  resuming  his  own  dress 
and  rifle,  concealed  himself  on  the  flank  of  his 
party. 

The  Dahcotahs,  who  had,  as  they  thought, 
seen  their  scout  make  tht  sign  of  "All  right," 
after  a  careful  examination  of  the  wood,  entered 
it  without  either  order  or  suspicion  ;  neither 
did  they  discover  their  rfiistake  until  the  fore- 
most reached  the  fatal  bush,  when  a  volley  from 
the  ambuscade  told  among  them  with  terrible 
effect.  Several  of  the  Sioux  fell  at  this  first 
discharge,  and  the  confusion  caused  by  this 
unexpected  attack  was  increased  by  the  panic 
among  the  horses,  some  of  which  being  fright- 
ened, and  others  wounded,  they  reared  and 
plunged  with  ungovernable  fury. 

Although  taken  by  surprise,  the  Dahcotah  war- 
riors behaved  with  determined  courage  ;  throw- 
ing themselves  from  their  horses,  they  dashed 
into  the  thicket  to  dislodge  their  unseen  foes, 
and  the  fight  became  general,  as  well  as  desul- 
tory, each  man  using  a  log  or  a  tree  for  his  own 
defence,  and  shooting,  either  with  rifle  or  bow, 
at  any  adversary  whom  he  could  see  for  a  m(? 
ment  exposed.  The  Sioux,  though  more  nu- 
merous, were  unprovided  with  efficient  fire- 
arms ;  and  sensible  of  the  advantages  thence 
arising  to  their  opponents,  they  made  desperate, 
and  not  unsuccessful  efforts  to  bring  the  fight 
to  close  quarters  ;  Reginald  and  War-Eagle 
were  side  by  side,  each  endeavouring  to  outdo 


*  One  of  the  most  extraordinary  specimens  of  the  inge- 
ruity  of  the  tribes  who  inhabit  the  Great  lyLssouri  wil- 
derness, and  who  spealt many  languages,  so  different  that 
they  can  have  with  each  other  no  verbal  communication, 
is  tiie  language  of  Signs,  common  to  them  nil,  by  which 
Pawnees,  D.ahcotahs,  Osages,  Black-feet,  Upsarokas,  or 
the  Crows  and  other  Western  nations,  can  understand 
each  other  quite  sufficiently  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of 
their  8inii»le  life.  The  sign  for  "all  right"  is  made  by 
holding  the  hand  with  the  palm  do\vnwards,  in  a  hori- 
zontal position,  and  waving  it  slowly  outwarda. 


the  other  in  feats  of  gallantry,  and  at  the  saibe 
time  to  watch  over  the  safety  of  his  friend. 

Monsieur  Perrot  caught  the  general  spirit  of 
the  allYay,  and,  as  he  afterward  said  of  liiinselt 
"(ought  like  a  famished  lion  !"  when,  unluckily, 
his  pistol  snapped  in  the  face  of  a  Sioux  war- 
rior, who  struck  him  a  bUiw  that  felled  him  t(i 
the  earth.  Stepping  lightly  over  the  form  of 
his  prostrate  foe,  the  savage,  grasping  a  knife 
in  his  right  hand,  and  seizing  the  luckless 
Frenchman's  hair  with  his  left,  was  about  to 
scalp  him,  when  the  knife  dropped  from  his 
hand,  and  he  stood  for  a  moment  petrified  with 
astonishment  and  horror.  The  whole  head  of 
hair  was  in  his  left  hand,  and  the  white  man 
sat  grinning  before  him  with  a  smooth  and 
shaven  crown. 

Letting  fall  what  he  believed  to  be  the  scalp 
of  some  devil  in  human  shape,  the  affrighted 
Sioux  fled  from  the  spot,  while  Perrot,  replacing 
his  wig,  muttered  half  aloud,  "  Bravo  '.  ma  bonne 
perruque  !  je  te  dais  milk  remergimens  .'" 

At  this  crisis,  while  the  issue  of  the  general 
combat  was  still  doubtful,  the  sound  of  a  bugle 
was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the  signal  imme- 
diately answered  by  Reginald,  who  shouted 
aloud  to  War-Eagle,  that  Grande-Hiche  was  at 
hand.  Inspired  by  the  knowledge  of  approach- 
ing reinforcement,  the  Delawares  fouglit  with 
renewed  confidence,  while  the  Dahcotahs,  star- 
tled by  the  strange  and  unknown  bugle  calls, 
were  proportionately  confused  and  thrown  into 
disorder.  The  panic  among  tliem  was  com- 
plete when  the  sharp  crack  of  Baptiste's  rifle 
was  heard  in  the  rear,  and  one  of  their  princi- 
pal braves  fell  dead  at  the  root  of  the  tree  which 
sheltered  him  fron?  the  fire  of  War-Eagle's  party. 
Hemmed  in  between  the  two  hostile  bands,  the 
Sioux  now  gave  up  all  hope  of  concealment, 
and  fought  with  the  courage  of  despair  ;  but 
the  resistance  which  they  offered  was  neither 
effective  nor  of  long  duration.  Baptiste,  wield- 
ing his  terrible  axe,  seeined  resolved  this  day 
to  wreak  his  fierce  and  long-delayed  vengeance 
on  the  tribe  at  whose  hands  he  had  sustained 
such  deadly  injury  ;  and  regardless  of  several 
slight  wounds  which  he  received  in  the  fray, 
continued  to  deal  destruction  among  all  who 
came  within  reach.  Nor  were  Reginald  and 
War-Eagle  less  active  in  the  fight ;  the  struggle 
was  hand  to  hand  ;  the  Sioux  seeming  to  ex- 
pect no  quarter,  and  being  determined  to  fight 
while  they  could  wield  a  knife  or  tomahawk. 

Their  chief,  a  man  of  stature  almost  as  power- 
ful as  that  of  Mahega,  seemed  gifted  with  a 
charmed  life,  for  although  he  exposed  himself 
freely  to  the  boldest  of  his  opponents,  animating 
his  men  by  shouting  aloud  the  terrible  war-cry 
of  the  Dahcotahs,*  and  rushing  to  their  aid 
wherever  he  found  them  giving  way,  he  was 
hitherto  unhurt,  and  bent  every  effort  to  destroy 
War-Eagle,  whom  he  easily  recognised  as  thei 
leader,  and  most  formidable  of  the  Delawares 
An  opportunity  soon  offered  itself,  as  War- Eagle 
was  engaged  with  another  of  the  Dahcotahs. 
The  chief  aimed  at  his  unguarded  head  a  blow 
that  must  have  p  ■  '"  d,  had  not  Reginald 
warded  it  off  with       ^— .a=b ;  the  Indian  turned 

*  It  is  well  known  that  every  tribe  has  its  separate 
war-cry ;  that  of  the  Dahcotah's  resembles  the  short  angry 
bark  of  a  dog,  but  they  utter  il  with  a  piercing  sbrillnesi 
that  renders  it  terrific  in  the  extreme 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


101 


'unously  upon  him,  and  a  fierce  conabat  ensued, 
^ut  it  was  not  of  long  duratiog,  for  after  they 
jad  exchanged  a  few  strokes,  a  successful 
thrust  stretclied  the  Dalicotah  chief  upon  the 
ground.  An  exulting  cry  buist  from  the  Dela- 
wares,  and  the  panic-struck  Sioux  fled  in  every 
direction.  The  pursuit  was  conducted  with 
the  merciless  eagerness  common  to  Indian  war- 
faie,  and  as  Reginald  felt  no  inclination  to  join 
in  it,  he  returned  his  cutlass  to  its  sheath,  and 
busied  himself  in  securing  all  the  horses  that 
came  within  his  reach. 

One  hy  one  the  Delawares  came  back  to  the 
place  of  rendezvous,  some  bearing  with  them 
the  scalps  which  they  had  taken,  others  leading 
recaptured  horses,  and  all  in  the  highest  excite- 
ment of  triumph. 

War- Eagle  set  free  Nekimi,  and  led  it  towards 
its  master.  As  soon  as  it  was  near  enough  to 
hear  his  voice,  Reginald  called  to  the  noble 
animal,  which,  shaking  its  flowing  mane,  came 
bounding  and  snorting  towards  him.  He  ca- 
ressed it  for  a  short  time,  then  vaulted  upon  its 
back,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  its  spirit 
and  strength  had  suffered  no  diminution  since 
its  capture.  Again  he  dismoimtcd,  and  Nekimi 
followed  him  unied,  playing  round  him  like  a 
favorite  dog.  Wliile  he  thus  amused  himself 
with  his  recovered  steed,  Baptiste  sat  by  the 
side  of  a  small  streamlet,  cleaning  his  axe  and 
hfs  rifle,  and  listening  with  a  grim  smile  to  Mon- 
sieur J'errot's  account  of  the  danger  front  which 
he  had  been  saved  by  his  peruke.  In  the  midst 
of  his  narrative  seeing  some  blood  on  the  sleeve 
of  his  companion's  shirt,  he  said,  "  Baptiste,  you 
are  surely  wounded  1" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  one  of  the  red- 
skins gave  me  a  smartish  stroke  with  a  knife  in 
that  skrimmage — however,  I  forgive  him,  as  I 
paid  him  for  it." 

"  But  would  it  not  be  better  to  attend  to  your 
wound  first,  and  to  your  weapons  afterwards  1" 

"  \Miy,  no.  Monsieur  Perrot,  that  isn't  our 
fashion  in  the  woods ;  I  like  first  to  make  the 
doctor  ready  for  service,  and  then  it  will  be  time 
enough  to  put  a  little  cold  water  and  a  bandage 
to  the  cut." 

The  good-humoured  Frenchman  insisted  upon 
his  proposal,  but  had  some  difficulty  in  persuad 
ing  the  roujfli  Guide  to  let  him  dress  the  wound, 
which,  though  deep  and  painful,  was  not  dan- 
gerous. 

Ou  the  following  day  War-Eagle  returned 
with  his  triumphant  party,  and  with  the  rescued 
horses,  towards  the  Delaware  village,  every 
bosom,  save  one,  beating  high  with  exultation. 
Reginald  could  scarcely  control  his  impatience 
to  relate  to  Prairie-bird  the  events  of  the  suc- 
cessful expedition.  The  young  warriors  antici- 
pated with  joy  the  beaming  smiles  with  which 
they  would  be  welcomed  by  the  Lenape  maidens ; 
while  those  of  maturer  age  looked  forward  to 
the  well-merited  applause  of  their  chiefs,  and 
the  fierce  excitement  of  the  war-dance  with 
which  their  victory  would  be  celebrated.  Bap- 
tiste had  satiated  his  htng-cherished  vengeance 
on  the  tribe  which  had  destroyed  his  parents, 
and  Monsieur  Perrot  prepared  many  jokes  and 
gibes,  which  he  proposed  to  inflict  upon  Mike 
Smith,  and  those  who  had  not  partaken  in  the 
glory  which  he  and  his  party  had  gained. 

War-Eagle  alone  shaied  not  in  the  general 


joy  !  Wheth^rif  wfi.s  thsP  he  cd'.ilil  <i(H  prfet^eat* ' 
his  thoughts  from  reverting  to  Prairie-bird,  or 
that  he  was  oppressed  by  a  vague  and  mysteri- 
ous presentiment  of  calamity,  his  demeanour 
was  grave,  even  to  sadness,  and  the  trophies 
of  victory  hung  neglected  from  Ihe  fringes  of  his 
dress. 

Having  taken  the  shortest  route,  they  arrived, 
a  few  hours  before  nightfall,  at  a  point  where  a 
broad  trail  led  direct  to  the  encampment ;  and 
War-Eagle,  whose  penetrating  eye  had  marked 
his  friend's  impatience,  and  who  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  proving  to  him  the  warmth  of  his 
attachment,  said  to  him, 

"  Netis  should  go  forward  and  tell  Tamenund 
and  the  chiefs  that  the  Lenape  war-party  are 
coming,  and  that  the  Dahcotah  scalps  are  many. 
It  will  be  a  pleasant  tale  for  the  ancient  chiefs, 
and  it  is  good  that  they  hear  it  from  the  mouth 
of  the  bravest  warrior." 

This  compliment  was  paid  to  him  aloud,  and 
in  the  hearing  of  the  whole  band,  who  signified 
their  approbation  by  the  usual  quick  and  repeat- 
ed exclamation.* 

Reginald  replied,  "No  one  is  bravest  here; 
where  War  Eagle  leads,  none  but  brave  men  are 
worthy  to  follow." 

The  next  minute  Nekimi  was  in  full  speed 
towards  the  village;  and  the  Delaware  band, 
with  Baptiste  and  Perrot,  moved  leisurely  for- 
ward after  him. 

Scarcely  two  hours  had  elapsed  when  a  single 
horseman  was  seen  riding  towards  them,  in 
whom,  as  he  drew  near,  they  had  some  difficul- 
ty in  recognising  Reginald,  for  his  dress  was 
soiled,  his  countenance  haggard  and  horror- 
stricken,  while  the  foaming  sides  and  wide-di- 
lated nostril  of  Nekimi  showed  that  he  had  been 
riding  with  frantic  and  furious  speed.  All  made 
way  for  him,  and  he  spoke  to  none  until  he  drew 
his  bridle  by  the  side  of  War-Eagle,  and  beck- 
oned to  him  and  to  Baptiste  to  come  aside.  For 
a  moment  he  looked  at  the  former  in  silence 
with  an  eye  so  troubled,  that  the  Guide  feared 
that  some  dreadful  accident  had  unsettled  hia 
young  master's  mind  ;  but  that  fear  was  almost 
immediately  relieved  by  Reginald,  who,  taking 
his  friend's  hand,  said  to  him,  in  a  voice  almost 
inarticulate  from  suppressed  emotion, 

"  I  bring  you,  War-Eagle,  dreadful — dreadful 
news." 

"  War-Eagle  knows  that  the  sun  does  not 
always  shine,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"But  this  is  darkness,"  said  Reginald,  shud- 
dering ;  "  black  darkness,  where  there  is  neither 
sun  nor  moon,  not  even  a  star  !" 

"My  brother,"  said  the  Indian,  drawing  him- 
self proudly  to  his  full  height;  "my  brother 
speaks  without  thinking.  The  sun  shines  still, 
and  the  stars  are  bright  in  their  place.  The 
Great  Spirit  dwells  always  among  them  ;  a  thick 
cloud  may  hide  them  from  our  eyes,  but  my 
brother  knows  they  are  shining  as  brightly  as 
ever." 

The  voung  man  looked  with  wonder  and  awe 


*This  exclamation  resembles  the  English  word  "IIow- 
how,"  repe;ited  with  a  strong  ;isij,rate  und  great  rajiiditjr 
It  seems  cnmrnon  to  all  Indian  nations,  for  the  author  has 
heard  it  used  by  many  dilTerent  tribes,  and  it  is  riirntioned 
by  Charlevoix  as  being  constantly  uttered  by  ihc  Natchez 
Illinois,  and  other  Indian  nations,  tlien  dwelling  near  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi. 


Kfi 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


ifpcri  ^he  loftycountftpsi^c?  ftf-this  untauglit  phi- 
losopher of  the  wilderness  ;  and  he  replied, 
"  War-Eagle  is  right.  The  Great  Spirit  sees 
all,  and  whatever  he  docs  is  good  !  But  some- 
times the  cup  of  misfortune  is  so  full  and  so 
bitter,  that  man  can  hardly  drink  it  and  live." 

"  Let  Netis  speak  ail  and  conceal  nothing." 
said  the  chief:  "what  has  he  seen  at  the  vd- 
lagel" 

"  There  is  no  village  ."'  said  the  young  man  in 
an  agony  of  grief  "The  lodges  are  over- 
thrown ;  Tamenund,  the  Black  Father,  Olilipa, 
all  are  gone !  wolves  and  vultures  are  quarrel- 
ling over  the  bones  of  unburied  Lenape  !" 

As  Reginald  concluded  his  tragic  narrative, 
an  attentive  observer  might  have  seen  that  the 
muscles  and  nerves  in  the  powerful  frame  of  the 
Indian  contracted  for  an  instant,  but  no  change 
was  visible  on  his  haughty  and  commanding 
brow,  as  he  stood  before  the  bearer  of  this 
dreadful  news  a  living  impersonation  of  the 
stern  and  stoic  philosophy  of  his  race. 

" War-Eagle,"  said  Reginald,  "can  you  ex- 
plain this  calamity — do  you  see  through  it — 
how  has  it  happened  V 

"  Mahcga"  was  the  brief  and  emphatic  reply. 
"  Do  you  believe  that  the  monster  has  mur- 
dered all,  men,  women,  and  children  T"  said 
Reginald,  whose  thoughts  were  fixed  on  Prairie- 
bird,  but  whose  lips  refused  to  pronounce  her 
name. 

"  No,"  replied  the  chief;  "  not  all,  the  life  of 
Olitipa  is  safe,  if  she  becomes  the  wife  of  that 
■wolf;  for  the  others,  War-Eagle  cannot  tell. 
The  Washashe  'love  to  take  scalps,  woman, 
child,  or  warrior,  it  is  all  one  to  them ;  it  is 
enough.  War-Eagle  must  speak  to  his  people." 
After  a  minute's  interval,  the  chief  according- 
ly summoned  his  faithful  hand  around  him,  and 
in  brief  but  pathetic  language  informed  them  of 
the  disaster  that  had  befallen  their  tribe.  Re- 
ginald could  not  listen  unmoved  to  the  piercing 
cries  and  groans  with  which  the  Delawares  rent 
the  air  on  receiving  this  intelligence,  although 
his  own  heart  was  racked  with  anxiety  concern- 
ing the  fate  of  his  beloved  Prairie-bird.  While 
the  surrounding  warriors  thus  gave  unrestrained 
vent  to  their  lamentations,  War-Eagle  stood 
like  some  antique  statue  of  bronze,  in  an  atti- 
tude of  haughty  repose,  his  broad  chest  thrown 
forward  and  his  erect  front,  hearing  the  impress 
of  an  unconquerable  will,  bidding  defiance  alike 
to  the  human  weakness  that  might  assail  from 
■ivithin,  and  the  storms  of  fate  that  might  threat- 
en from  without.  The  stern  and  impressive 
silence  of  his  grief  produced,  ere  long,  its  effect 
upon  his  followers  ;  by  degress  the  sounds  of 
•wailing  died  away,  and  as  the  short  twilight  of 
that  climate  was  rapidly  merging  into  darkness, 
the  chief  taking  Reginald's  arm,  moved  forward, 
whispering  to  him  in  a  tone,  the  deep  and  gloomy 
meaning  of  which  haunted  his  memory  long  af- 
terwards, 

"The  spirit  of  Tamenund  calls  to  War-Ea- 
gle and  asks  '  Where  is  Mahega  V  " 

On  the  following  morning  War-Eagle  rose 
an  hour  before  daybreak,  and  lead  his  party  to 
the  spot  where  the  lodges  of  their  kindred  had 
BO  lately  stood,  and  where  they  had  anticipated 
a  rereption  of  honour  and  triumph.  The  chief 
*arode  forward  across  the  desolate  scene,  seem- 
ITigly  iLaensible  to  its  horrors ;  faithful  to  his 


determination,  all  the  energies  of  his  natare 
were  concentrated  in  the  burning  thirst  for  re- 
venge, which  expelled,  for  the  time,  every  other 
feeling  from  his  breast.  The  Delaware  war- 
riors, observant  of  the  stern  demeanour  of  their 
leader,  followed  him  in  gloomy  silence  ;  and  al 
though  each  shuddered  as  he  passed  the  well- 
known  spot  where,  only  a  few  days  before,  aa 
anxious  wife  had  prepared  his  food,  and  merry 
children  had  prattled  round  his  knee,  not  a 
groan  nor  a  complaint  was  uttered  ;  but  every 
bosom  throbbed  under  the  expectation  of  a  ven- 
geance so  terrible,  that  should  be  remembered 
by  the  Osages  to  the  latest  hour  of  their  exis- 
tence as  a  tribe. 

War-Eagle  moved  directly  forward  to  the 
place  where  the  lodge  of  Tamenund  and  the 
tent  of  the  Prairie-bird  had  been  pitched.  As 
they  approached  it  Reginald  felt  his  heart  faint 
within  him,  and  the  colour  fled  from  his  cheek 
and  lip. 

Baptiste,  taking  his  master's  hand,  said  to 
him,  in  a  tone  of  voice  the  habitual  roughness 
of  which  was  softened  by  genuine  sympathy, 
"  Master  Reginald,  remember  where  you  are  ; 
the  eyes  of  the  Lenape  are  upon  the  adopted 
brother  of  their  chief;  they  have  lost  fathers, 
brothers,  wives,  and  children  ;  see  how  they 
bear  their  loss,  let  them  not  think  Netis  less 
brave  than  themselves." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  honest  Baptiste,"  said 
the  unhappy  young  man,  wringing  the  wood- 
man's horny  hand  ;  "  I  will  neither  disgrace  my 
own,  nor  my  adopted  name ;  but  who  among 
them  can  compare  his  loss  with  mine  !  so  young, 
so  fair,  so  gentle,  my  own  affianced  bride,  pledged 
to  me  under  the  eye  of  heaven,  and  now  in  the 
hands  of  that  fierce  and  merciless  villain." 

At  this  moment  a  cry  of  exultation  burst 
from  the  lips  of  War-Eagle,  as  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  wand  and  slips  of  bark  left  by  Wingenund. 
One  by  one  the  chief  examined  them,  and  de- 
ciphering their  meaning  with  rapid  and  unner- 
ring  sagacity,  communicated  to  his  friend  that 
the  youth  was  still  alive  and  free  ;  that  Olitipa, 
though  a  prisoner,  was  well,  and  that  a  fine  trail 
was  open  for  them  to  follow. 

"  Let  us  start  upon  it  this  instant,"  cried  Re- 
ginald, with  the  re-awakened  impetuosity  of  his 
nature. 

"  War-Eagie  must  take  much  counsel  with 
himself"  replied  tne  chief,  gravely.  "  The  an- 
cient men  of  the  Lenape  are  asleep,  their  bones 
are  uncovered  ;  War-E.igle  must  not  forget 
them  ;  but,"  he  added,  while  a  terrible  fire  shot 
from  his  dark  eye,  "if  the  Great  Spirit  grants 
him  life,  he  will  bring  Netis  within  reach  of 
Mahega  before  this  young  moon's  horn  becomes 
a  circle." 

Having  thus  spoken,  he  resumed  his  scruti- 
ny of  the  ciphers  and  figures  drawn  upon  the 
bark  ;  nor  did  he  cease  it  until  he  fully  under- 
stood their  purport ;  he  then  called  together  his 
band,  and  explained  to  them  his  further  plans, 
which  were  briefly  these  : — 

He  selected  ten  of  the  youngest  and  most 
active,  who  were  to  accompany  him,  with  Re- 
ginald, Baptiste,  and  Perrot,  on  the  trail  cf  Ma- 
hega ;  the  remainder  of  the  party,  under  the 
guidance  of  an  experienced  brave,  were  to  fol- 
low the  more  numerous  body  of  the  Osages,  to 
hang  on  their  trail,  and  nevei  lO  leave  it  whil« 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


103 


there  remained  a  chance  or  a  hope  of  an  ene- 
my's scalp.  Two  of  the  Delawares  were  at 
the  same  time  despatched,  one  to  seek  the  aid 
and  sympathy  of  the  Konsas  and  other  friendly, 
or  neutral  tribes,  the  other  to  prowl  about  the 
woods  in  the  neighbourhood,  to  collect  any  fu- 
gitives who  might  have  escaped,  and  guide  any 
party  that  might  be  (brmed,  to  aid  in  the  medi- 
tated pursuit.  He  also  ordered  the  larger  par- 
ty to  gather  the  bones  and  relics  of  their  kin- 
dre(i  and  to  perforin  the  rites  of  sepulture,  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  tribe. 

While  the  chief  was  giving  these  instructions 
to  the  several  parties  above  designated,  Regi- 
nald sat  musing  on  the  very  grass  over  which 
the  tent  of  his  beloved  had  been  spread ;  no 
blood  had  there  been  spilt ;  it  had  been  spared 
the  desecration  of  the  vulture  and  the  wolf; 
her  spirit  seemed  to  hover  unseen  over  the 
spot ;  and  shutting  his  eyes,  the  lover  fancied 
he  could  still  hear  her  sweet  voice,  attuned  to 
th  5  simple  accompaniment  of  her  Mexican  guitar. 

How  long  this  waking  dream  possessed  his 
senses  he  knew  not,  but  he  was  awakened  from 
it  by  War-Eagle,  who  whispered  in  his  ear, 
"  The  trail  of  Mahega  waits  for  my  brother." 
Ashamed  of  his  temporary  weakness,  Reginald 
sprung  to  his  feet,  and  thence  upon  the  back  of 
Nekimi.  The  chief  having  chosen  four  of  the 
strongest  and  best  from  the  recaptured  horses, 
one  for  the  use  of  Perrot,  the  others  for  such 
emergencies  as  miglit  occur,  left  the  remainder 
with  the  main  body  of  the  Delawares,  and,  ac- 
companied by  liis  small  party  thoroughly  well 
armed  and  equipped,  started  on  the  trail  m  pur- 
suit of  the  Osages. 

While  these  events  were  passing  near  the 
site  of  the  Lenape  village,  i-.Iahega  pursued  his 
westward  course  with  unremitting  activity,  for 
although  he  felt  liille  apprehension  from  the 
broken  and  dispirited  band  of  Delawares,  he 
kn£w  that  he  was  entering  a  region  which  was 
the  hunting-ground  of  the  Pawnees,  Otoes, 
loways,  aiul  other  tribes,  all  of  whom  would 
consider  him  a  trespasser,  and  would  be  dis- 
posed to  view  his  present  expedition  in  the 
light  of  a  hostile  incursion  ;  for  this  reason,  al- 
though he  was  amply  provided  with  presents  for 
such  Indians  as  he  might  fall  in  with,  from  the 
plunder  of  the  Delaware  lodges,  he  marched 
with  the  greatest  rapidity  and  caution,  and 
never  relaxed  his  speed  until  he  had  passed 
that  dangerous  region,  and  had  entered  upon 
the  higher,  and,  comparatively,  less  frequented 
plain,  lying  between  the  waters  of  the  Nebras- 
ka, or  riatte  River,  and  the  lower  ridges,  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Spurs  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. 

During  the  whole  of  this  tedious  march  the 
attention  paid  to  the  comfort  of  Olitipa  by  her 
wild  and  wayward  captor  was  constant  and  re- 
spectful ;  secure,  as  he  thought,  from  pursuit, 
he  had  determined  to  gain  her  confidence  and 
aflfection,  and  thus  to  share  in  that  mysterious 
knowledge  and  power  which  he  believed  her  to 
possess,  and  which  he  well  knew  that  force  or 
ha/shness  would  never  induce  her  to  impart. 
Thus  she  remained  continually  attended  by  her 
favourite  I.ita ;  when  the  band  halted  for  re- 
freshment, the  choicest  morsels  were  set  apart 
for  her  use,  and  the  young  branches  of  the  wil- 
jOw  or  popLr  were  gathered  to  shelter  her  from 


the  sun.  Mahega  rarely  addressed  her,  but 
when  he  did  so  it  was  in  language  calculated  to 
dispel  all  apprehension  of  present  injury  or  in- 
sult ;  and  Prairie-bird,  remembering  the  parting 
counsel  of  the  Missionary,  replied  to  the  haugh* 
ty  chief's  inquiries  with  courtesy  and  gentle- 
ness ;  although  she  could  not  help  shuddering 
when  she  remembered  his  former  violence,  and 
the  dreadful  massacre  at  the  Delaware  village, 
she  felt  deeply  grateful  to  Heaven  for  having 
softened  the  tiger's  heart  towards  her,  and  for 
having  led  him,  by  means  and  motives  un- 
known to  herself,  to  consult  her  safety  and  hor 
comfort. 

On  one  occasion  during  the  march,  Mahega 
availed  himself  of  her  mysterious  acquirements, 
in  a  manner  that  reflected  great  credit  upon  his 
sagacity,  at  the  same  time  that  it  increased,  in 
a  tenfold  degree,  the  awe  with  which  she  had 
inspired  him  and  his  adherents.  They  had 
made  their  usual  halt  at  noon,  by  the  side  of  a 
small  stream  ;  Prairie-bird  and  her  faithful  I.ita 
were  sheltered  from  the  burning  rays  of  the 
sun  by  an  arbour  of  alder-branches,  which  the 
Osages  had  hastily  but  not  inconveniently,  con- 
structed ;  Mahega  and  his  warriors  being  oc- 
cupied in  eating  the  dainty  morsels  of  meat  af- 
forded by  a  young  buffalo  cow  killed  on  the 
preceding  day,  when  a  large  band  of  Indians 
appeared  on  the  brow  of  a  neighbouring  hill, 
and  came  down  at  full  speed  towards  the 
Osage  encampment.  Mahega,  without  mani- 
festing any  uneasiness,  desired  his  men  to  pile 
a  few  of  their  most  valuable  packages  withio 
the  arbour  of  Olitipa,  and  to  form  themselves 
in  a  semicircle  around,  for  its  protection,  their 
hows  and  rifles  being  ready  for  immediate  use. 
Having  made  these  dispositions,  he  waited  the 
approach  of  the  strangers,  quietly  cutting  his 
buffalo  beef  and  eating  it  as  if  secure  of  their 
friendly  intentions.  Having  come  within  a 
hundred  yards,  they  drew  in  their  bridles  on  a 
signal  from  their  leader,  who  seemed  disposed 
to  take  a  more  deliberate  survey  of  the  party. 
From  their  appearance  Mahega  knew  that  they 
must  belong  to  one  of  the  wild  roving  tribes 
who  hunt  between  the  sources  of  the  Platte 
and  Arkansas  rivers,  but  the  name  or  designa- 
tion of  their  tribe  he  was  at  first  unable  to  make 
out.  Their  weapons  were  bows  and  arrows, 
short  clubs,  and  knives  ;  their  dress,  a  hunting, 
shirt  of  half-dressed  skin,  a  centre-cloth  of  the 
same  material,  and  mocassins  on  their  feet, 
leaving  the  legs  entirely  bare ;  the  leader  had 
long  hair,  clubbed  at  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
fastened  with  sinew-strings  round  a  wooden 
pin,  to  which  were  attached  several  stained 
feathers,  which  danced  in  the  wind,  and  height- 
ened the  picturesque  effect  of  his  costume. 

A  rapid  glance  sufficed  to  show  him  that  the 
new  comers,  although  apparently  busied  about 
their  meal  without  distrust,  were  not  only 
well  armed,  but  ready  for  immediate  service ; 
nor  did  his  eye  fail  to  note  the  martial  bearing 
and  gigantic  proportions  of  Mahega,  who  sat 
like  a  chief  expecting  the  approach  of  an  inferior. 

Influenced  by  these  observations,  the  leader 
of  the  roving  band  resolved  that  the  first  inter- 
course at  least,  should  be  of  a  peaceful  nature, 
prudently  reflecting,  that  as  his  own  numbers 
were  far  superior,  the  nearer  the  quarters  the 
greater  would  be  their  advantage.     Having  ut- 


104 


THE    PRAIKIE-BIRD. 


tered  a  few  brief  words  to  his  followers,  he  ad- 
Tanced  with  a  friendly  gesture  towards  Malie- 
ga,  and  the  following  dialogue  took  place,  in  the 
ingenious  language  of  signs  before  referred 
to:— 

Makcga. —  '  What  tribe  are  you  T" 

Leader. — "Ari-ca-ra.*  What  are  you,  and 
whither  going  7" 

M. — "  Washashc,  going  to  the  mountains." 

L. — "What  seek  you  there V 

M. — "  Beaver,  otter,  and  grisly  bear-skins." 

L. — "  Good.  What  is  in  the  green-branch- 
Tigwam." 

M. — "  Great  Medicine — let  the  Aricara  be- 
ware." To  this  the  chief  added  the  sign  usu- 
ally employed  for  their  most  solemn  mysteries. 

M'hile  this  conversation  was  going  on,  the 
rovers  of  the  wilderness  had  gradually  drawn 
nearer,  not,  however,  unperceived  by  Mahega, 
who,  tiirowing  down  a  strij)  of  blanket  at  a  dis- 
tance of  twenty  yards  from  the  arbour  of  Prairie- 
bird,  explained  by  a  sign  sufficiently  intelligible, 
that  if  the  main  body  of  them  crossed  that  line 
his  party  would  shoot. 

At  a  signal  from  their  leader  they  again  halt- 
ed ;  and  Mahega  observed  that  from  time  to 
time  they  threw  hasty  glances  over  the  hill 
whence  they  had  come,  from  which  he  inferred 
that  more  of  their  tribe  were  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood. 

Meanwhile  their  leader,  whose  curiosity 
urged  him  to  discover  what  Great  Medicine  wr«6 
contained  in  the  arbour,  advanced  fearlessly 
alone  within  the  forbidden  precincts,  thus  placing 
his  own  life  at  the  mercy  of  the  Osages. 

Ordering  his  men  to  keep  a  strict  watch  on 
the  moveinents  of  tiie  Aricaras,  and  to  shoot  the 
first  whom  they  might  detect  in  fitting  an  arrow 
to  his  bowstring,  Mahega  now  lighted  a  pipe, 
and  courteously  invited  their  leader  to  smoke; 
between  every  successive  whiff  exhaled  by  the 
latter,  he  cast  an  inquisitive  glance  towards  the 
arbour,  but  the  packages  and  the  leafy  branches 
baffled  his  curiosity  ;  meanwhile  the  prelimi- 
naries of  peace  having  been  thus  amicably  in- 
terchanged, the  other  Aricaras  cast  themselves 
from  their  horses,  and  having  given  thern  in 
charge  to  a  few  of  the  youngest  of  the  party, 
the  remainder  sat  in  a  semicircle,  and  gravely 
accepted  the  pipes  handed  to  them  by  order  of 
Mahega. 

That  chief,  aware  of  the  mischievous  propen- 
sities of  his  new  friends,  and  e(iually  averse  to 
intimacy  or  hostility  with  such  dangerous  neigh- 
bours, had  bethought  himself  of  a  scheme  by 
which  he  might  at  once  gel  rid  of  them  by  in- 
spiring them  with  superstitious  awe,  and  gratify 
himself  with  a  sight  of  one  of  those  wonders 
which  the  Missionary  had  referred  to  in  his  last 
warning  respecting  the  Prairie-bird.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  curious  Aricara  again  ex- 
pressed his  desire  to  know  the  Great  Medicine 
contents  of  the  arbour.    To  this  Mahega  replied, 

•'A  woman,"  adding  again  the  sign  of  solemn 
mystery. 

"  A  woman  !"  replied  the  leader,  in  his  own 

•  Aricara.  This  tril-e  is  by  descent  a  branch  of  the 
great  Pawnee  nation,  to  whose  langiiMize  their  own  still 
bears  :i  close  resenibl.-uice  ;  tliey  are  usii:illy  known  among 
western  travellers  by  the  name  of  Uiccarees,  and  the 
Frcncli  call  them  "  Les  Kis;"  Ihey  are  a  very  predatory, 
wild,  aud  thievish  race. 


tongue,  expressing  in  his  countenance  the  scon< 
and  disappointment  that  he  felt. 

"  A  woman,"  repeated  Mahega,  gravely , 
"  but  a  Medicine  Spirit.  We  travel  to  tho 
mountains;  she  will  then  go  to  the  land  of 
spirits." 

The  Aricara  made  here  a  gesture  of  impatient 
incredulity,  with  a  sign  that,  if  he  could  not  see 
some  medicine-feat,  he  would  believe  that  the 
Osage  spoke  lies. 

Mahega,  desiring  him  to  sit  still,  and  his  own 
party  to  be  watchful,  now  approached  the  ar- 
bour, and,  addressing  Prairie-bird  in  the  Dela- 
ware tongue,  explained  to  her  their  present  situ- 
ation, and  the  dangerous  vicinity  of  a  mischiev- 
ous, if  not  a  hostile  tribe,  adding,  at  the  same 
time, 

'•  Olitipa  must  show  some  wonder  to  frighten 
these  bad  men." 

"  What  is  it  to  Olitipa,"  replied  the  maiden, 
coldly,  "  whether  she  is  a  prisoner  to  the  Osage, 
or  to  the  Western  Tribe]  perhaps  they  would 
let  her  go." 

"Whitherl"  answered  the  chief  "Does 
Olitipa  think  that  these  prairie  wolves  would 
shelter  her  fair  skin  from  the  sun,  oi^serve  and 
protect  her  as  Mahega  does  1  if  she  were  their 
prisoner  they  would  take  from  her  everything 
she  has,  even  her  Medicine  Book,  and  make  her 
bring  water,  and  carry  burdens,  and  bear  children 
to  the  man  wlu)  should  take  Mahega's  scalp." 

Bad  as  was  her  present  plight  and  her  future 
prospect,  the  poor  girl  could  not  help  shudder- 
ing at  the  picture  of  hopeless  drudgery  here  pre- 
sented to  her  eyes,  and  she  replied, 

"  What  does  the  Osage  Chief  wish  \  how 
should  his  prisoner  frighten  these  wild  men  '" 

"IMie  Black  Father  said  that  Olitipa  could 
gather  the  beams  of  the  sun,  as  our  daughter* 
collect  the  waters  of  a  stream  in  a  vessel,"  saia 
the  Chief,  in  a  low  tone. 

Instantly  catching  the  hint  here  given  by  hej 
beloved  instructor,  and  believing  tiiat  nothin| 
done  in  obedience  to  his  wishes  could  be  in  it 
self  wrong,  she  resolved  to  avail  herself  of  thi** 
opportunity  of  exciting  the  superstitious  awe  of 
the  savages,  and  she  replied, 

"  It  is  good.  Let  Mahega  sit  by  the  strange) 
men  ;  Olitipa  will  come." 

Hastily  winding  a  party-coloured  kerchief  in 
the  form  of  a  turban,  around  the  rich  tresses  of 
her  dark  hair,  and  throwing  a  scarf  over  her 
shoulder,  she  took  her  small  bag,  or  reticule,  in 
her  hand,  and  stepped  forth  from  the  arbour. 
Such  an  apparition  of  youthful  bloom,  grace,  and 
beauty,  extracted  even  from  the  wild  leader  of 
the  Aricaras,  an  exclamation  of  astonished  ad- 
miration. Having  seated  herself  upon  a  finely- 
painted  bison  robe,  placed  for  her  by  Lita,  she 
waited  gravely  until  Mahega  shoukl  have  pre- 
pared the  stranger  chief  for  what  was  to  follow. 

It  was  now  scarcely  an  hour  after  noon,  and 
the  sun  shone  full  upon  them,  with  bright  and 
e.vcessive  heat;  Mahega,  pointing  upward,  ex- 
plained to  the  Aricara  that  the  Woman-Spirit 
would  bring  some  fire  down  from  that  distant 
orb.  He  could  not  give  any  further  information, 
being  totally  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  won- 
der to  be  wrought,  and  as  anxious  to  witness  it 
as  the  wild  chief  himself 

"  Where  will  she  place  iti"        inquired. 

"In  the  chief's  hand,"  replied  the  ajaiden 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


105 


whose  intelligent  mind  had  long  since,  during 
her  residence  with  the  Dciawares,  become 
familial  with  tlie  language  of  signs. 

The  two  leaders  now  explained  to  their  fol- 
lowers, in  their  respective  tongues,  the  great 
medicine  which  they  were  about  to  see ;  and 
the  latter,  forgetful  alike  of  distrust  and  precau- 
tion, crowded  wiih  irresistible  curiosity  about 
the  spot,  Mahega  alone  preserving  his  haiiituai 
self-command,  and  warning  those  nearest  to 
him  to  be  prepared  against  treachery  or  surprise. 
The  only  ornament  worn  by  the  Aricara  leader 
was  a  collar,  made  of  dark  blue  cloth,  adorned 
with  porcupine  quills,  and  girt  with  the  formid- 
able claws  of  the  grisly  bear.  This  collar,  being 
at  once  a  trophy  of  his  prowess,  and  a  proof  of 
its  having  been  gained  among  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain traders,  (from  whom  alone  the  cloth  could 
have  been  procured  in  that  remote  region,)  was 
highly  prized  both  by  the  owner  and  liis  follow- 
ers, and  was,  therefore,  as  well  as  from  it  colour, 
selected  by  Prairie- bird  as  a  fitting  object  on 
which  to  work  her  "medicine  wonder."  She 
desired  him  to  take  it  from  his  neck  and  to  place 
it  on  the  grass,  with  his  hands  below  it,  that  no 
fire  might  come  near  it.  When  he  had  complied 
with  her  request,  she  drew  from  her  bag  a  burn- 
ing-glass, and,  carefully  adjusting  the  focus,  held 
it  over  the  dark  blue  cloth,  in  which  ere  long  a 
hole  was  burnt,  and  the  astonished  leader's 
hand  below  was  scorched. 

It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  wonder  and  awe 
of  the  attentive  savages ,  they  looked  first  at 
her,  then  at  her  glass,  then  at  the  sun  ;  then 
they  re-examined  the  cloth,  and  ascertained  that 
it  was  indeed  burnt  through,  and  that  the  smell 
of  fire  still  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  aperture. 
Afier  this  they  withdrew?  several  paces  from  the 
spot,  the  leader  inquiring  with  submissive  signs 
whether  he  might  replace  the  collar]  to  which 
inquiry  the  maiden  gravely  bowing  assent,  re- 
tired again  into  the  arbour.  For  some  time  a 
profound  silence  ensued,  the  Osages  being  as 
much  awe-struck  as  the  Aricaras  ;  even  Mahega 
himself  was  not  proof  against  the  prevalent  feel- 
ing of  superstitious  terror  ;  and  thus,  while  de- 
siring Prairie-bird  to  terrify  others,  he  had  un- 
consciously furnished  her  with  a  mysterious  and 
powerful  check  upon  hiiTiself. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Aricaras  rose  to 
lake  leave, — their  chief  presenting  Mahega  with 
a  fine  horse  ;  and  receiving  in  return  sundry 
ornaments  and  trinkets,  of  no  real  value,  but 
highly  prized  from  their  rarity  in  that  wild  and 
desolate  region.  As  they  withdrew,  they  cast 
many  a  furtive  glance  at  the  arbour  and  its 
mysterious  tenant,  seemingly  glad  when  they 
found  themselves  at  such  a  distance  as  rendered 
them  safe  from  her  supernatural  influence.  On 
their  return  to  their  own  people,  they  related, 
with  considerable  exaggeration,  the  wonders 
which  they  had  witnessed ;  and  Prairie-bird 
was  long  afterwards  spoken  of  in  the  tribe  by  a 
name  equally  impossible  to  print,  or  to  pro- 
nounce, but  which,  if  translated  into  English, 
would  he,  "  The  Great-Medicine-Daughter-of- 
the-hurnmg-Sun  !" 

After  this  adventure,  Mahega  pursued  his 
uninterrupted  way  towards  the  spurs  of  the 
Rocky  Mouritains ;  his  manner  and  hearing 
towards  Prairie-bird  being  more  deferential 
than  ever,  and  the  passion  that  he  entertained 


for  her  being  checked  and  awed  by  the  miracu- 
lous power  that  she  had  displayed  ;  he  stiL 
nourished  strong  hopes  of  being  able  ultimately 
to  gain  her  affection,  but  in  the  meantime  re- 
solved to  turn  her  supernatural  skill  to  good 
account,  by  frightening  such  wild  roving  bands 
as  they  might  fall  in  with,  and  extorting  from 
their  superstitious  fears  valuable  presents  in 
horses  and  peltry. 

Meanwhile,  the  maiden's  observant  eye  had 
marked  the  effect  upon  Jvlahega  produced  by  the 
burning-glass,  in  spite  of  his  well-dissembled 
indifference,  and  she  secretly  determined  that 
the  chief  use  that  she  could  make  of  such  exhi- 
bitions as  were  calculated  to  excite  superstitious 
awe  among  Indians,  should  be  to  maintain  the 
command  over  Mahega,  which  she  was  con 
scions  she  now  possessed. 

During  the  whole  of  this  long  and  toilsome 
march,  the  faithful  and  indefatigable  Wingenund 
hovered  over  the  trail  at  such  a  distance  as 
never  to  be  perceived  by  any  of  the  party,  and 
left  at  occasional  intervals  a  willow-rod,  or  a 
slip  of  bark,  so  marked  as  to  be  a  sure  guide  to 
an  eye  less  keen  and  sagacious  than  that  of 
War-Eagle.  His  only  food  was  dried  undressed 
buffalo  meat;  his  drink,  the  stream  where  the 
Osages  had  slaked  their  thirst ;  his  bed,  the 
barren  prairie ;  he  made  no  fire  to  scare  away 
the  prowling  wolves,  that  yelped  and  howled  at 
night  round  his  solitary  coucli,  his  only  protec- 
tion from  their  ravenous  hunger  being  a  tuft  of 
damp  grass,  over  which  he  rubbed  some  powder 
from  his  flask.  Twice  was  he  descried  and 
pursued  by  roving  bands  of  Indians,  but  on 
both  occasions  saved  himself  by  his  extraordi- 
nary fleetness  of  foot ;  and  the  moment  that 
the  immediate  danger  was  over,  renewed  liia 
weary  and  difficult  task. 

Cheered  by  his  deep  affection  for  his  sister, 
encouraged  by  the  approval  which  he  knew 
that  his  exertions  would  mee4  from  War-Eaglo 
and  Reginald,  and,  more  than  all,  stimulated  by 
the  eager  desire  to  distinguish  himself  as  a 
Delaware  chief  on  this  his  first  war-path,  the 
faithful  youth  hung  over  the  long  and  circuitous 
trail  of  his  enemies  with  the  patience  and  uner- 
ring sagacity  of  a  bloodhound — and  though  she 
saw  him  not.  Prairie-bird  felt  a  confident  assu- 
rance that  her  beloved  young  brother  would  be 
true  to  his  promiise,  and  would  never  leave  nor 
desert  her  while  the  pulses  of  life  continued  to 
beat  in  his  affectionate  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Ethelston  visits  St.  Louis,  where  he  unexpectedly  meets 
an  old  ac(]iiaintance,  nnri  undertakes  a  longer  journej 
than  he  had  contemplated. 

During  the  occurrence  of  the  events  related 
in  the  preceding  chapters,  the  disputes  and 
difficulties  attending  the  distribution  of  peltries 
among  the  different  fur  companies  at  St.  Louis 
had  rather  increased  than  diminished,  and  Ethel- 
ston had  found  himself  compelled,  however  un- 
willingly, again  to  bid  adieu  to  Lucy,  and  take 
a  trip  to  the  Mississippi  for  the  arrangement  of 
his  guardian's  affairs  in  that  quarter ;  a  consid- 
erable portion  of  the  fortune  that  he  inherited 
from  his  father  was  invested  in  the  same  spa 


|->6 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


culat'on,  and  he  could  not,  without  incurring 
the  cl  iirgo  of  culpable  negligence,  leave  it  in 
the  ha.ids  of  others  at  a  great  distance,  many 
of  whose  interests  might  perhaps  be  at  variance 
with  these  of  Colonel  Brandon  and  himself 

He  hfd  been  only  a  short  time  in  St.  Louis, 
when  01  e  day  on  passing  the  cathedral,  he  met 
two  me  I,  whose  appearance  attracted  his  at- 
t(!ntion.  The  one  was  past  the  meridian  of 
life,  an  I  the  benevolent  Ihonghtfulness  of  his 
counte  lance  accorded  well  with  the  sober  suit 
of  bla  ,k  that  indicated  the  profession  to  which 
he  b  .longed  ;  the  other  was  a  stout,  square- 
built  man,  evidently  cast  in  a  coarser  mould 
tha'i  his  companion,  but  apparently  conversing 
with  him  on  terms  of  friendly  familiarity.  After 
k'oking  steadily  at  this  second,  Ethelston  felt 
<  onvinced  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in  address- 
ng  him,  "Bearskin,  my  good  friend,  how  come 
fou  to  be  in  St.  Louis  ?  I  thought  you  were 
>usy,  bear  and  b^flalo  hunting  with  my  friend 
Reginald,  among  the  Delawares  of  the  Mis- 
souri !" 

"  Ha  !  Mai-ter  Ethelston,"  replied  the  sturdy 

voyageur,  "  I  am  right  glad  to  see  your  face 

'  sre.     We  have  been  in  some  trouble  of  late, 

ud  instead  of  our  hunting  the  bears,  the  bears 

as  hunted  us." 

"I  see  you  have  been  in  some  trouble,"  said 
ilthelston,  noticing  for  the  first  time  the  boat- 
man's scars  and  bruises;  "but  tell  me,"  he 
added,  hastily  catching  him  by  the  arm,  "  has 
an7  evil  befallen  my  friend,  my  brother  Regi- 
nald V 

"  Nc  harm  that  I  knows  of,"  replied  the  other  ; 
"  but  I  must  say  that  things  wern't  what  a  man 
might  call  altogether  pleasant,  where  I  left  him." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Ethelston,  with  an  in- 
dignation that  he  made  no  attempt  to  conceal, 
"you  left  him  in  danger  or  in  difficulties,  and 
can  give  no  account  of  himl  Bearskin,  I  would 
not  have  believed  this  of  you,  unless  I  had  it 
Iroin  your  own  lips  !" 

"Master  Ethelston,"  answered  the  justly  of- 
fen'!ed  voyageur,  "a  man  that  goes  full  swing 
down  the  stream  of  his  own  notions,  without 
heeding  oar  or  helm,  is  sure  to  run  athwart  a 
snag  ;  here's  my  worthy  friend  here,  Paul  Mid- 
ler, and  though  he  is  a  preacher,  I'll  hold  him 
as  honest  a  man  as  any  in  the  Territory;  he 
can  tell  you  the  whole  story  from  one  end  to 
t'other ;  and  when  he's  done  so,  perhaps  you'll 
be  Eorry  for  what  you've  said  to  old  Bearskin." 

"I  am  already  sorry,"  replied  Ethelston, 
moved  by  the  earnest  simplicity  of  the  scarred 
and  weather-beaten  boatman.  "I  am  already 
sorry  that  I  have  done  you  wrong,  but  you  will 
maKe  allowance  for  my  impatience  and  anxiety 
concerning  my  brother's  fate?"  (Ethelston  al- 
ways spoke  of  Reginald  as  his  brother,  for  he 
had  a  secret  and  undefined  pleasure  in  so  doing, 
as  it  implied  his  union  with  the  sister  of  his 
friend.)  Paul  Miiller,  easily  guessing  from  the 
few  words  that  had  passed  that  the  person  now 
addressing  Bearskin  was  the  Edward  Ethelston 
of  whom  Reginald  had  so  often  spoken  to  tiim, 
said, 

"  Sir,  you  certainly  did  an  injustice  to  Bears- 
skin,  in  thinking  him  capable  of  deserting  a 
friend  in  need  ;  but  the  apology  you  have  offered 
is,  I  am  sure,  sufficient  to  satisfy  him.  The 
•ntelhgence  which  I  have  to  communicate  res- 


pecting Reginald  Brandon  and  his  party  is  u 
some  respects  exceedingly  melancholy  ;  if  you 
wdl  accoiTipany  me  to  our  lodging,  which  is 
just  at  hand,  I  will  explain  it  to  you  in  full, 
meanwhile,  rest  satisfied  with  the  a.ssuranoe 
that,  to  the  best  of  our  belief,  your  friend  is  safe 
and  well  in  health." 

As  soon  as  they  had  entered  the  house.  Bear- 
skin, forgetting  the  hasty  words  which  had  so 
much  hurt  his  feelings,  busied  himself  ."n  p<e- 
paring  some  refreshment  for  Ethelston,  while  the 
Missionary  related  to  him  all  that  had  occurred 
since  his  friend  joined  the  Delaware  encamp- 
ment. He  did  not  even  conceal  from  him  the 
violent  passion  that  the  latter  had  conceived 
for  Prairie-bird,  and  the  despair  with  which,  on 
his  return  to  the  village  from  the  Sioux  expedi- 
tion, he  woidd  learn  the  destruction  of  her  kin- 
dred, and  her  own  captivity  among  the  Osages. 

"  Indeed,  my  good  sir,"  said  Ethelston,  "  I 
must  freely  confess  that  this  portion  of  your  in- 
telligence is  the  only  one  that  brings  with  it  any 
comfort ;  the  fate  of  Mike  Smith  and  his  com- 
panions, and  the  destruction  of  the  unoffending 
Delawares,  are  disasters  deeply  to  be  lamented, 
but  surely,  the  fact  of  the  Osage  chief  having 
carried  off  the  Indian  maiden  whom  you  call 
Prairie-bird,  and  who  seems  to  have  exercised 
such  a  strange  fascination  over  Reginald  Bran- 
don, can  scarcely  be  regretted  :  for  she  will 
be  more  likely  to  find  a  congenial  mate  among 
the  Red-skins,  and  a  bitter  disappointment  will 
be  spared  to  my  excellent  guardian,  Colonel 
Brandon." 

"  I  know  not,  my  son,"  answered  the  Mis- 
sionary mildly;  "the  ways  of  Providence  are 
inscrutable,  and  it  does  frequently  happen,  as 
you  say,  that  events  which  we  lament  at  the 
moment,  afford  afterwards  just  grounds  fur  re- 
joicing; nevertheless,  I  cannot  view  this  mat- 
ter exactly  as  you  do,  for  I  have  known  the 
maiden  from  her  childhood,  and  she  is  a  more 
fitting  bride  for  a  christian  gentleman,  than  for 
a  heathen  warrior.'" 

"I  did,  indeed,  hear  the  Colonel,  and  the  oth- 
er members  of  the  tamily  at  Mooshanne.  say, 
that  the  Delaware  yuth  who  so  bravely  de- 
fended the  life  of  Reginald  at  the  risk  of  his 
own,  had  spoken  in  th'  highest  terms  of  praise 
respecting  his  sister,  the  Prairie  bird,  as  if  she 
were  a  being  of  a  superior  race  ;  but  you,  my 
good  father,  are  above  '.he  prejudices  which 
darken  the  minds  of  these  Indians,  and  you 
must  therefore  know,  that  whatever  may  be  her 
beauty  and  amiable  qualities,  she  is,  after  all, 
the  daughter  of  a  Delaware  chief,  and  as  such, 
could  not  be  a  welcome  inmate  of  my  guardian'a 
house." 

"  Nay,  my  son,"  replied  the  Missionary,  "  she 
is  but  the  adopted  child  or  the  venerable  Dela- 
ware  who  lately  fell  in  the  massacre  which  I 
have  related  to  you  ;  she  was  not  of  his  blood 
nor  of  his  race  ;  such  qualities  and  nurture  as 
she  possesses  have  been  in  some  measure  the 
fruit  of  my  own  care  and  toil.  Were  it  not 
that  you  might  mistake  my  language  fur  that  of 
boasting,  I  would  say,  that  although  the  prai- 
rie has  been  her  dwelling,  and  a  Lenape  tent 
her  home,  she  does  not  in  her  education  fall 
far  short  of  your  maidens  in  the  settlements^ 
who  have  had  greater  advantages  of  in.'struc 
tion." 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


107 


The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  a  negro  with  refreshment,  preceded 
by  Bearsliin,  hearing  in  his  hand  a  bottle  of 
French  brandy,  of  whicli  he  vaunted,  not  with- 
out reason,  the  excellent  quality  and  flavour ; 
but  Eihelston  continued  to  converse  in  an  un- 
dertone with  the  Missionary,  his  countenance 
evincing  every  moment  increased  eagerness 
an^  interest  in  the  subject  of  their  discours-e, 
which  so  absorbed  his  attention,  that  he  never 
noticed  the  honest  boatman's  repeated  attempts 
to  call  his  attention  to  the  refreshment  which 
he  had  prepared.  Even  Paul  MuUer  was  unable 
to  comprehend  this  sudden  change  in  his  man- 
ner, and  his  vehement  desire  to  know  all  the 
most  minute  particulars  respecting  a  person  of 
whom  he  had  spoken  a  few  minutes  before  in 
terms  of  disparagement,  but  he  attributed  it  to 
the  interest  which  he  took  in  his  friend's  select- 
ed bride,  and  satisfied  his  curiosity  to  the  best 
of  his  al)ility. 

When  all  his  many  and  rapidly  uttered 
questions  were  ans%vered,  Eihelston  rose  Yrom 
his  seat,  and  abruptly  took  his  departure,  say- 
ing, as  he  left  the  room,  "Thanks,  thanks,  my 
good  friends,  you  shall  see  me  again  ere  long." 

"  Indeed,  I  care  not  much  how  long  it  may  be 
before  I  see  his  face  again,"  said  Bearskin, 
sulkily.  "  Here  have  I  been  bothering  myself 
tomakeroin|)ey  bring  up  these  cakes  and  fruits, 
and  I  have  opened  a  bottle  of  Father  Antin's 
best  brandy,  and  lie  goes  off  without  tasting 
with  us,  or  so  much  as  taking  a  drop  to  wash 
down  the  dl  words  which  were  in  his  mouth  a 
v/hile  since !" 

"Nay,  my  good  friend,"  replied  the  Mission- 
ary, "  be  not  hasty  to  censure  Master  Etbelston, 
for  he  is  a  true  and  zealous  friend  to  Reginald 
Brandon,  and  the  news  from  the  west  seems 
to  have  affected  him  with  much  anxiety  and 
alarm." 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you  learned  folk," 
said  the  unpacified  iToalman,  "  but  we  don't  do 
things  after  that  fashion  on  the  river-side  ;  and 
for  all  he's  the  son  of  an  old  friend  of  the  Colo- 
nel's, when  he  comes  this  way  again  he's  like  to 
hear  something  of  my  notion  of  his  manners." 

"  What  sort  of  character  bears  he  at  home!" 

"  Wby,  to  tell  the  tr  'h,  his  character's  in- 
different good  ;  I  never  noard  of  his  bein'  rude 
or  oncivillike  before." 

"  Well,  then.  Bearskin,  if  he  comes  here 
again,  give  him  an  opportunity  for  explaining 
his  sudden  departure,  before  you  take  or  express 
any  offence  at  conduct  of  which  you  may  not 
rightly  understand  the  motives — come,  my  good 
friend,  clear  your  brow,  and  let  us  partake  with 
gratitude  of  the  excellent  cheer  that  you  have 
provided." 

Thus  saying,  the  Missionary  placed  himself 
with  his  companion  at  table,  and  the  ill-temper 
of  the  latter  was  dispelled  by  the  first  glass  of 
Father  Antin's  cogniac. 

After  this  interview  with  Paul  Muller,  Etbel- 
ston pursued  the  business  which  had  brought 
him  to  St.  Louis  with  such  vigour  and  energy, 
that  at  the  close  of  a  week's  negotiation  he  was 
able  to  inform  Colonel  Brandon  that  by  sacrific- 
ing a  small  portion  of  the  disputed  claim,  he  had 
adjusted  the  matter  upon  terms  which  he  trust- 
ed his  guardian  would  not  consider  disadvanta- 
geous ;  his  letter  concluded  thus : 


"  Having  now  explained  these  transactions, 
and  informed  you  in  another  letter  of  the  mel- 
ancholy fate  of  Mike  Smith  and  some  of  his 
conip.inions,  I  must  announce  to  you  my  intea 
tijn  of  setting  off  immediately  in  searcli  of 
Reginald,  with  the  besl-ap|)ointed  force  that  I 
can  collect  here,  for  I  am  seriously  apprehensive 
fur  his  safety,  surrounded  as  he  is  by  rovin» 
tribes  of  Indians,  with  some  of  whom  he  ana 
bis  party  are  at  o[)en  war,  while  the  band  of 
Delawares,  upon  whose  friendship  he  might 
have  relied,  is  almost  destroyed.  As  it  may  be 
a  work  of  some  time  and  difficulty  to  find  Regi 
nald  in  a  region  of  such  boundless  extent,  J 
must  entreat  you  not  to  feel  uneasy  on  my  ac- 
count, shoidd  my  absence  be  more  protracted 
than  I  would  wish  it  to  be,  for  I  shall  be  accom- 
panied by  Bearskin,  and  other  experienced  trap- 
pers ;  and  I  know  that  even  Lucy  would  have 
no  smile  for  me  on  my  return,  if  I  came  back 
to  Mooshanne,  without  making  every  exertion 
to  extricate  her  brother  from  the  difficulties  in 
which  these  unej^ected  incidents  have  involved 
him." 

By  the  same  post  Ethelston  wrote  also  to  in 
form  Lucy  of  his  resolution,  and  though  she  felt 
extremely  vexed  and  anxious  on  account  of  the 
lengthened  absence  which  it  foretold,  still  she 
did  him  the  justice  in  her  heart  to  own  that  he 
was  acting  as  she  would  have  wished  him  to 
act. 

Not  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  consult  with 
Paul  Muller,  and  also  with  the  most  experienced 
agents  of  the  fur  companies,  in  order  tl.at  he 
might  provide  the  articles  most  requisite  lor  his 
contemplated  expedition,  and  secure  the  servi- 
ces of  men  thoroughly  trained  and  accustomed 
to  mountain  and  prairie  life. 

In  this  last  respect  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
engage  a  man  named  Pierre,  a  half-breed  from 
the  Upper  Missouri,  whose  life  had  been  spent 
among  the  most  remote  trading-posts,  where 
his  skill  as  a  hunter,  as  well  as  in  interpreting 
Indian  languages,  was  held  in  high  estimation. 
Bearskin,  who  was  almost  recovered  from  his 
wound,  and  from  his  short  fit  of  ill-humour  with 
Ethelston,  agreed  to  join  the  party,  and  the 
good  Missionary  resolved  to  brave  all  dangers 
and  fatigues,  in  the  hope  of  rejoining,  and  per- 
haps of  being  instrumental  in  rescuing,  his  be- 
loved pupil. 

W^ith  unwearied  industry  and  exertior ,  Ethel- 
ston was  able,  in  one  week  subsefjuent  to  the 
date  of  his  letter,  to  leave  St.  Louis  in  search  of 
his  friend,  attended  by  eight  hardy  and  experi- 
enced men,  all  of  whom,  excepting  the  Mi:ji.ion- 
ary,  were  well  armed,  and  furnished  with  ex- 
cellent horses,  mules,  and  every  necessary  for 
their  long  and  arduous  undertaking. 

Guided  by  Bearskin,  they  reached,  without 
accident  or  adventure,  the  site  of  the  de.solate 
Lenap6  village,  in  the  Osage  country,  and  '.here 
fell  in  with  one  of  the  young  Delawares  detach- 
ed by  War- Eagle  to  observe  what  intght  be 
passing  in  the  neighbourhood  :  from  this  }oulh 
they  learnt  that  War-Eagle  and  Reginald,  with 
a  small  party  had  gone  westward  in  pursuit  of 
Mahegan,  and  that  the  larger  body  of  the  sur- 
viving Delawares  were  on  the  trail  of  the  more 
numerous  band  of  the  treacherous  Osages. 

Ethelston  wished  to  go  on  at  once  in  search 
of  his  friend,  but  the  youth  insisted  thut  ha 


108 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Bhould  first  assist  liis  band  in  taking  vengeance 
on  tlu'ir  enemies.  Promises  and  threats  proved 
equally  unavailing,  and  after  llie  Missionary  had 
exhausted  ail  his  eloquence  in  endeavouring  to 
promote  peace,  he  was  himself  compelled  to  as- 
sure Elhelston  that  his  only  chance  of  finding 
the  trail  of  his  friend  in  a  spot  so  intersected 
by  multitudinous  paths,  was  to  accede  to  the 
terms  proposed  by  the  Indian  ;  he  concluded 
in  these  words : 

"  Doubtless  the  conduct  of  these  Osages  was 
blood-thirsty  and  treacherous.  I  cannot  deny 
that  they  deserve  punishment,  but  I  would  fain 
have  left  them  to  the  chastisement  of  a  higher 
power.  I  know,  however,  that  I  cannot  change 
the  notion  of  retributive  justice  entertained  by 
the  Indians  ;  and  although  I  cannot  prevent  re- 
taliation, my  presence  may  soften  the  severities 
by  which  it  is  usually  accompanied  ;  at  all  events 
I  will  not  sliriiik  from  the  attempt,  especially 
as  it  is  the  only  means  by  which  we  can  pos- 
sibly hope  to  trace  those  in  whose  safety  we  are 
so  deeply  interested."  * 

Etliclston  could  not  press  any  further  objec- 
tion, and  his  party,  under  the  guidance  of  the 
young  Delaware,  was  soon  in  rapid  motion 
upon  the  trail  of  the  larger  body  of  the  Osages, 
who  were,  as  it  may  be  remembered,  already 
pursued  by  a  band  of  Lenape  warriors. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  second  day's  march, 
Ethelslon  and  his  party  met  the  latter  returning 
in  triumph  from  a  successful  pursuit  of  their 
enemies,  whom  they  had  overtaken  and  sur- 
prised before  they  could  reach  the  main  body  of 
the  Osage  village.  The  attack  was  made  by 
night,  and  the  Delawares  had  taken  many  scalps 
without  the  loss  of  a  single  man  ;  but  their 
number  was  not  sufficient  to  justify  their  re- 
maining in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  force  so  much 
supeiior  to  their  own,  so  they  had  retreated  to 
the  southward,  and  were  now  on  the  way  to 
their  former  village,  where  they  intended  to 
perfoim  more  at  leisure  the  funeral  ceremonies 
due  to  their  aged  chief,  and  those  who  had  been 
killed  with  him,  and  to  appease  their  unquiet 
spirits  by  offering  at  their  graves  the  trophies 
taken  during  their  late  expedition.  A  few  of 
the  most  daring  and  adventurous  entreated  per- 
mission to  join  Ethelston's  band  in  his  search 
for  War-Eagle,  their  favourite  leader  ;  nor  was 
he  by  any  means  sorry  to  grant  their  request, 
justly  considering  the  addition  of  ten  well-arm- 
ed Lenape  warriors  as  a  most  desirable  rein- 
forcement to  his  party. 

As  soon  as  the  selection  was  made,  they 
separated  at  once  from  the  remaining  body  of 
Delawares,  and,  guided  by  the  youth  before 
mentioned,  threw  themselves  upon  the  trail  of 
Mahega  and  his  pursuers. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

r^fl  Osnges  encnmp  near  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Moun 
tiilns. — An  unexpected  visitor  arrives. 

Aftkr  parting  with  the  Aricaras,  Mahega 
travelled  westward  for  many  days  over  that 
barren  and  desolate  region  lying  between  the 
Bources  of  the  Platte  and  Arkansas  rivers,  with- 
out falling  in  with  any  other  Indians ;  his  party 
was  guided  by  a  grim  and  scarred  warrior,  who 


had  been  on  several  hunting  excursions  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  in  the  course  of  which  ha 
had  been  more  than  once  engaged  with  the 
Shiennes,  Crows,  and  other  tribes,  whose  names 
have  of  late  years  become  familiar  to  the  gene- 
ral reader,  but  who  were  then  known  only  to 
the  few  adventurous  spirits  who  had  pushed 
their  way  into  that  wild  and  dangerous  coun- 
try. 

Prairie-bird,  attended  by  her  faithful  Lita,  and 
mounted  on  her  high-mettled  and  sure-footed 
pony,  was  placed  near  the  centre  of  the  line  of 
march,  and  Mahegan  himself  always  brouglit  up 
the  rear,  that  being  the  post  usually  occupied  by 
an  Indian  chief  on  all  occasions,  excepting  when 
engaged  in  attack  or  pursuit  of  a  foe. 

The  maiden  seemed  to  have  resigned  herself 
composedly  to  her  captive  condition  ;  and  if  she 
still  harboured  thoughts  or  projects  of  escape, 
none  could  detect  them  in  the  quiet  observant 
eye  with  which  she  noted  the  new  and  interest- 
ing ^bjects  presented  to  her  view.  They  had 
already  passed  the  chain  of  hills  known  as  the 
Ozark  range,  and  leaving  the  Black  Hills  to  the 
northward,  were  crossing  the  sandy  elevated 
plain  which  lies  between  them  and  the  Rocky 
Mountains  ;  the  sand  of  this  district  is  of  a  red- 
dish hue,  and  in  many  places  the  hollows  and 
small  ravines  are  incrusted  with  salt,  which 
gives  them,  at  first,  the  appearance  of  being 
covered  with  snow  ;  large  masses  of  rock  salt 
are  also  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  give  to  the 
waters  of  all  the  smaller  tributaries  of  the  Upper 
Arkansas  a  brackish  and  briny  taste. 

One  evening,  a  little  before  sunset.  Prairie- 
bird  checked  her  horse,  to  enjoy  at  leisure  the 
magnificent  panorama  before  her  ;  and  even  the 
suspicious  Mahega  forbore  to  interrupt  her  en- 
joyment of  its  beauties,  contenting  himself  with 
viewmg  them  as  reflected  on  her  own  lovely 
countenance.  To  the  northward  was  an  abrupt 
crag  of  sandstone  rock,  towering  above  the 
plain  over  which  the  party  were  now  travelling ; 
its  rugged  outline  broken  into  a  thousand  fis- 
sures and  rents,  probably  by  the  might  of  a 
rushing  torrent  in  by-gone  years,  frowned  like 
the  turrets  and  battlements  of  an  ancient  feudal 
castle,  and  the  maiden's  fancy  (recurring  to 
some  of  the  tales  wh'ca  had  found  their  way 
into  her  slender  library;  peopled  its  lofty  towers 
and  spacious  courts  below  with  a  splendid  host 
of  chivalry,  fairest  and  foremost  among  whom 
was  the  proud  and  martial  figure  of  Reginald 
Brandon ! 

Brushing  a  teardrop  from  her  eye,  she  avert- 
ed it  from  the  castellated  bluff,  and  turned  it 
westward,  where  was  spread  a  gradually  as- 
cending plain,  covered  with  cedars,  pines,  and 
rich  masses  of  various  forest  growth  ;  far  be- 
yond which  the  Great  Peak,  highest  of  the 
Northern  Andes,  reared  its  majeatic  form,  the 
setting  sun  shedding  a  flood  of  golden  light 
upon  the  eternal  snow  reposing  on  its  crest. 
With  admiring  wonder.  Prairie-bird,  to  whom 
the  dread  magnificence  of  mountain  scenery 
was  new,  gazed  on  the  mighty  landscape  stretch- 
ed out  before  her ;  she  held  her  breath  as  the 
rays  of  the  sinking  sun  changed  the  golden  flee- 
cy haze  around  the  distant  peak  to  a  rosy  hue, 
and  soon  again  to  a  deeper  saffron  tint :  and 
when,  at  last,  it  disappeared  behind  ihe  rocky 
barrier  in  the  west,  Prairie-biid  covered  her 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


109 


eyes  with  her  hands,  as  if  tw  enjoy  over  again 
in  memory  a  scene  of  sucn  surpassing  beauty. 

"  Yes,"  she  exclaimed  half  aloud  ;  "  many  o^ 
the  works  of  man  are  wonderful,  and  the  fictions 
cf  his  fancy  yet  more  marvellous,  even  visions 
su;h  as  rose  before  my  imagination,  when  con- 
templating yon  rugged,  craggy  height,  but  what 
are  they  when  compared  to  the  living  wonders 
of  creation  1  Almighty  Creator — merciful  Fa- 
ther !  Thou  hast  led  the  steps  of  thy  feeble 
and  helpless  child  to  this  wild  and  remote 
mountain  solitude  !  it  is  filled  with  Thy  pres- 
ence !  Thou  art  her  protector  and  guide — her 
trust  is  in  Thee  !" 

Mahega  gazed  with  awe  on  the  maiden  as, 
with  parted  lips,  and  eyes  upturned  to  the  glow- 
ing western  heaven,  she  seemed  to  commune 
•  with  some  unseen  mysterious  being;  and  the 
other  Indians,  watchful  of  their  leader's  coun- 
tenance, kept  at  a  respectful  distance  until  her 
short  reverie  was  past,  when  the  party  resumed 
their  march  towards  the  spot  chosen  for  the 
evening  encampment. 

The  journey  over  the  ascending  sandy  plain 
before  mentioned  occupied  several  days,  at  the 
end  of  which  they  reached  the  opening  of  a  fer- 
tile valley,  sheltered  on  three  sides  by  steep 
ridges,  well  covered  with  wood,  and  watered  by 
a  clear  stream  ;  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the 
plain  to  the  southward  was  studded  with  vast 
herds  of  buffalos  grazing  in  undisturbed  securi- 
ty ;  the  timid  antelope  bounded  across  the  dis- 
tant prairie ;  and  as  the  travellers  entered  the 
valley  the  quick  eye  of  Mahega  detected,  on  the 
velvet  turf  stretched  beneath  the  northern  ridge, 
numerous  tracks  of  the  mountain  deer  and  of 
the  argali,  or  big-horn,  a  species  of  goat,  the 
chamois  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  found  gener- 
ally among  the  most  rugged  cliffs  and  precipi- 
ces ;  to  the  scenery  of  which  his  long  beard, 
bright  eye,  and  enormous  twisted  horn  give  a 
wild  and  picturesque  effect.  Mahega  was  so 
struck  with  the  singular  advantages  offered  by 
this  valley,  both  as  affording  a  sheltered  camp, 
ample  pasturage  for  the  horses,  and  a  plentiful 
supply  of  game,  that  he  resolved  to  take  up 
there  his  summer  quarters,  and  in  selecting  the 
spot  fur  his  encampment  displayed  the  sagacity 
and  foresight  peculiar  to  his  character. 

About  a  mile  from  the  point  where  the  valley 
opened  upon  ilie  plain,  there  was,  at  the  base 
of  the  northern  ridge,  a  curved  and  secluded 
verdant  basin  of  turf,  the  entrance  to  which  was 
so  narrow  and  so  well  shaded  by  overhanging 
trees  that  it  was  not  visible  from  any  distance, 
and  could  not  be  approached  on  any  other  side, 
owing  to  the  precipitous  height  of  the  crags  by 
which  it  was  surrounded  ;  on  an  elevated  peak 
or  promontory,  immediately  above  the  opening 
which  led  to  this  natural  lawn,  grew  a  number 
ot  thick  massive  dwarf  cedars,  from  under  the 
shade  of  which  a  clear  sighted  man  could  com- 
mand a  view  of  the  whole  valley,  and  give  early 
notice  to  those  encamped  below,  of  the  approach 
of  danger.  Having  satisfied  himself  that  by 
posting  a  watchman  there  he  could  secure  him- 
self against  the  unperceived  attack  of  any  foe, 
Mahega  left  three  of  his  most  trustworthy  men 
in  charge  of  Olitipa,  and  having  despatched  the 
remainder  of  his  party  to  kill  buffalo,  proceeded 
to  make  a  careful  scrutiny  of  the  valley,  in  or- 
der to  ascertain  whether  there  were  signs  of 


I  Indians  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  whether,  in 
the  event  of  his  being  compelled  to  shift  his 
quarters,  he  could  find  any  defile  through  which 
it  might  be  practicable  to  effect  a  retreat. 

For  three  whole  days  he  pursued  his  search 
w-ith  unremitting  toil,  during  which  ti.me  he  as- 
certained that  there  were  no  visible  traces  of 
Indians  being  near,  and  that  three  miles  higher 
up  the  valley  there  was  a  transverse  opening  in 
the  northern  ridge,  which  led  to  another  and  a 
larger  valley,  through  which  flowed  a  river  of 
considerable  magnitude.  In  the  mean  time  the 
Osages  had  not  been  idle,  and,  al:  hough  little 
pleased  to  perform  menial  services,  such  as  are 
usually  lei"t  to  their  w.)iiien,  they  pitched  the 
tent  of  Olitipa  with  much  taste,  at  the  foot  of  a 
huge  rock,  and  between  two  lofty  pines ;  next 
to  it  they  constructed,  at  a  distance  of  only  a 
few  yards,  a  lodge  for  their  chief,  by  stretching 
double  plies  of  buffalo  hide  over  bent  poles  cut 
after  their  fashion  ;  and  again  beyond  that  they 
raised  a  larger  and  ruder  skin  lodge  for  them- 
selves ;  the  guitar  and  the  few  moveables  be- 
longing to  Prairie-bird  were  carefully  piled  in 
her  tent,  and,  as  a  watch  was  stationed  at  the 
opening  to  the  valley,  she  was  free  to  wander 
as  she  pleased  among  the  trees  which  bordered 
the  edge  of  the  lawn  on  which  they  were  en- 
camped. 

"  Surely"  said  the  maiden,  casting  her  eyes 
upward  to  the  beetling  crags  above,  and  then 
letting  them  rest  upon  the  green  turf  at  her 
feet,  "  if  it  be  God's  pleasure  that  I  should  be  a 
captive  still,  he  has  granted  me,  at  least,  the 
favour  of  a  goodly  prison  wherein  to  dwell." 

She  observed,  with  gratitude,  the  change  that 
had  taken  place  in  the  demeanour  of  Mahega 
towards  herself;  so  far  from  being  harsh  or  vi- 
olent, he  was  respectful  in  the  highest  degree, 
and,  whether  the  change  was  owing  to  his  fears, 
or  to  more  creditable  motives  on  the  part  of  the 
Osage,  she  followed  the  advice  tendered  by  the 
missionary,  by  treating  him  with  courteous 
gentleness.  Whenever  he  addressed  her  it  was 
in  Delaware  ;  and  her  perfect  familiarity  with 
that  tongue  rendered  it  easy  for  her  to  make 
such  replies  as  the  occasion  might  demand, 
sometimes  ambiguous,  sometiines  mysterious, 
but  always  such  as  were  not  calculated  to  irri- 
tate or  offend  his  pride. 

Venison  and  buffalo  meat  aboundea  in  the 
Osage  camp,  the  choicest  morsels  being  al- 
ways set  apart  for  the  use  of  Prairie-bird  ;  and 
Lita  gathered  for  her  various  kinds  of  berries, 
which  are  plentiful  in  that  region,  some  of  thena 
resembling  the  gooseberry,  the  serviceberry 
and  others  of  excellent  flavour;  there  was  also 
found  an  esculent  root,  called  by  the  Indians 
"  o-/.a-7io-wi/,"  of  a  faimaceous  quality,  which 
the  Comanche  girl  had  often  seen  on  her  native 
plains,  and  from  which,  when  she  had  beaten 
and  pulverized  it  between  two  flat  stones,  she 
baked  a  kind  of  cake,  that  was  by  no  means  un- 
palateable. 

The  Osages  had  now  been  encamped  nearly 
a  week  on  this  pleasant  and  sheltered  spot,  di- 
viding their  time  between  their  two  favourite 
occupations  of  hunting  and  smoking  ;  neither 
had  any  fresh  Indian  trail  been  discovered  to 
arouse  their  suspicion  or  their  watchfulness. 
Before  retiring  to  rest,  it  was  usual  for  Mahega 
to  come  before  the  tent  of  Prairie-bird;   and 


110 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


she,  aware  of  the  helplessness  of  her  situation, 
came  for'h  lo  meet  him,  receiving  with  guarded 
courtesy  the  tine  compliments  which  he  thought 
fit  to  pay  iier,  and  rcplymg  in  a  tone  which,  al- 
though not  directly  encouraging  to  his  hopes, 
was  calculated  to  soothe  the  irritation  which 
her  former  treatment  of  him,  and  the  recollec- 
tion of  iiis  unsuccessful  struggle  with  Reginald, 
hail  left  upon  his  mind. 

And  here  we  may  pause  to  ohserve  how  the 
Btrange  contradictions  that  are  found  in  the 
human  character,  frequently  produce  a  line  of 
conduct  which  would,  at  first  sight,  appear  irre- 
concileahle  with  all  probability,  and  yet,  which 
18  in  strict  accordance  with  the  secret  workings 
of  the  wayward  will  by  which  it  is  directed. 
Thus  Maliega,  when  he  first  became  smitien 
with  the  beauty  of  Prairie-bird  in  the  Delaware 
camp,  where  she  was  surrounded  by  friends 
and  protectors,  wooed  her  with  the  rough  im- 
petuosity of  his  nature,  and,  finding  his  advances 
rejected,  he  resorted,  as  we  have  seen,  to  brutal 
violence,  his  passion  being  so  much  heightened 
by  the  obstacles  which  it  encountered,  that,  in 
order  to  gratify  it,  he  provoked  that  quarrel 
with  the  Delavvares  in  which  so  much  blood, 
both  of  his  own  people  and  of  his  allies,  had 
been  already  shed.  Now  that  he  was  trium- 
phant, and  felt  secure  of  the  person  of  his  cap- 
tive, a  new  and  ardent  desire  had  arisen  within 
him,  a  desire  to  compel  her  to  love  him.  In 
this  pursuit,  also,  his  proud  and  haughty  spirit 
led  him  to  anticipate  success,  and  flius,  for  a 
time,  the  darker  and  more  malignant  feelings 
of  his  bosom  slumbered  undisturbed. 
I  One  evening,  when  he  had  held  his  customary 
talk  with  Prairie-bird,  he  retired  to  his  lodge 
and  the  maiden  to  her  tent,  where  she  took  up 
her  long- neglected  guitar,  and  ran  her  fingers 
carelessly  through  its  strings.  Lita  sat  by  her 
side,  braiding  the  front  of  a  pair  of  moccassins 
with  stained  quills  of  the  porcupine,  and,  al- 
though neither  sigh  nor  tear  betrayed  her  feel- 
ings. Prairie-bird,  whose  heart  now  led  her  in- 
tuitively to  dive  into  that  of  her  companion, 
saw  that  sad  and  busy  thoughts  were  there  ; 
the  Comanche  girl,  proud  and  reserved  as  she 
was  with  others,  had  been  won  by  the  gentle- 
ness of  her  mistress,  to  entertain  for  her  an  at- 
tachment, that  was  now  strengthened  and  ce- 
mented by  the  trials  and  dangers  which  they 
had  shared  together;  it  might,' indeed,  be  sup- 
posed that,  as  both  were  now  captives  of  the 
chief  of  another  tribe,  the  relation  of  mistress 
and  servant  had  ceased,  yet  Lita  seemed  to 
think  otherwise,  and  her  attendance  upon 
Prairie-bird  was;  if  possible,  more  devoted  than 
before. 

"  Foi  whom  are  ycv:  ornamenting  those  moc- 
cassins, Lital"  inquired  the  latter,  with  a  sad 
smile. 

•'  For  whom  !"  repeated  Lita,  casting  up  her 
ilark  eyes,  and  fixing  them  on  her  mistress  as 
/she  would  read  her  soul.  The  tone  in  which 
.he  exclamation  was  uttered,  and  the  look  by 
which  it  was  accompanied,  assured  Prairie-bird 
Jjal  her  conjectures  were  well  founded. 

When  the  heart  is  full,  one  overflowing  drop 
lells  the  contents  of  the  golden  chalice ;  and 
from  the  wo  words  spoken  by  her  companion 
Olitipa  gathered  her  meaning  as  well  as  if  she 
nad  Teplied,  "Is  there  any  other  being  on 


earth  but  one,  for  whom  I  can  be  braiding 

theinr' 

The  voice  of  Prairie-bird  trembled  with  a 
conscious  fellow-feeling,  as  she  said,  "  Lita, — I 
ask  not  to  know  your  secret,  but  I  prciy  to  the 
Great  Spirit  so  to  direct  the  steps  of  him  for 
whom  those  moccassins  are  made,  that  he  may 
receive  them  at  your  hands,  and  wear  them  for 
your  sake  !" 

On  hearing  these  words  a  deep  blush  came 
over  the  face  and  neck  of  the- Comanche  girl ; 
a  word  of  kindness  had  touched  a  spring,  which 
in  her  wild  and  wayward  nature  would  have 
been  unmoved  by  fear  or  by  violence,  and  she 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Prairie-bird, 
giving  vent  to  long-concealed  emotions,  in  a 
flood  of  tears. 

Scarcely  had  she  regained  her  composure,  • 
and  resumed  her  braiding,  when  the  quick  ear 
of  Prairie-bird  caught  the  sound  of  a  low  chirrup, 
like  that  of  a  grasshopper,  close  at  the  back  of 
the  tent ;  she  remembered  to  have  heard  that 
signal  before ;  the  blood  fled  from  her  cheek, 
and  she  held  her  breath  in  agitated  silence ; 
again  the  sound  was  repeated,  and  Prairie-bird 
stole  to  the  corner  of  the  tent  whence  it  pro- 
ceeded, and  stooping  her  head,  said,  in  English, 
"  If  Wingenund  is  there,  let  him  speak." 

"  My  sister  !"  whispered  the  soft  voice  of  the 
youth  in  reply. 

"  'Tis  he  !  'tis  my  dear  young  brother  him- 
self!" 

"  Is  all  quiet.  Prairie-bird  V 

"  All  is  quiet." 

"  Then  Wingenund  will  pull  out  one  of  these 
tent-pegs,  and  creep  in  below  the  canvass, — ha 
has  much  to  say  to  his  sister." 

In  spite  of  the  emotion  caused  by  her  brother's 
sudden  appearance,  and  by  the  recollection  that 
if  discovered  his  life  would  certainly  be  forfeited, 
Prairie-bird  retained  sufficient  presence  of  mind 
to  continue  passing  her  fingers  through  the 
chords  of  her  guitar,  in  order  to  drown  the 
noise  made  by  Wingenund  in  removing  the  fas- 
tenings and  effecting  his  entrance  below  the 
tent.  At  length  he  stood  before  her,  and  after 
gazing  sadly,  fondly  on  his  countenance  for  a 
few  monlents,  she  fell  upon  his  neck  and  wept ! 
The  figure  was  indeed  that  of  her  favourite 
brother,  but  oh,  how  changed  since  she  had  last 
seen  him  !  Cold,  wet,  sleepless  nights,  fatigue 
and  hunger,  had  ail  combined  to  wear  and  ex- 
haust a  frame  which,  although  cast  in  Nature's 
fairest  and  most  graceful  mould,  had  not  yet 
reached  the  enduring  strength  of  manhood  ;  his 
once  gay  attire  was  soiled  and  ragged,  the  moc- 
cassins on  his  feet  were  of  undressed  bison- 
hide,  torn,  and  scarcely  atTording  any  protection 
against  the  stones  and  thorny  plants  with  which 
that  region  abounds  ;  his  light  bow,  with  a  few 
arrows  still  hung  at  his  back,  and  the  hunting- 
knife  at  his  girdle  ;  this  was  all  that  remained 
of  the  gay  accoutrements  with  which  he  had 
been  adorned  in  the  Osage  village  ;  yet,  al- 
though the  frame  was  emaciated,  and  the  cheeks 
sunken,  the  proud  lustre  of  his  eye  told  of  a 
spirit  unquenchcd  by  suffering,  and  rising  supe- 
rior to  the  trials  which  had  almost  destroyed  its 
earthly  tenement.  Prairie-bird  longed  to  ask 
an  hundred  questions  in  a  breath ;  how  he  had 
come  1  whether  he  had  seen  or  learnt  anything 
of  War-Eagle  and  of  Reginald  1  but  affectionate 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Ill 


compassion  for  her  young  brother's  sad  condi- 
tion overcoming  every  other  feeling,  slie  said 
to  him,  "  Dear,  dear  Wingenund,  you  are  wea- 
ried to  death,  sit  by  me  and  rest ;  you  are 
starved,  are  you  not  T' 

"  Wingenund  has  not  eaten  for  two  days," 
rephed  ilie  youth,  seating  himself  gently  at  his 
Bister's  side. 

Fortunately,  more  than  half  of  the  evening 
meal,  apportioned  to  Prairie-bird  and  Lita,  re- 
mained untouched  in  the  tent,  and  the  latter 
instantly  set  before  the  youth  some  well  cooked 
cakes  and  bison-meat,  luxuries  such  as  had  not 
passed  his  lips  for  many  a  day  ;  and  having  also 
placed  a  vessel  of  water  within  his  reach,  she 
went,  with  the  intuitive  delicacy  and  sagacity 
of  her  sex,  towards  the  opening  of  the  tent,  so 
as  to  afford  Prairie-bird  an  opportunity  of  speak- 
ing unrestrainedly  to  her  brother,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  secure  them  as  far  as  possible 
against  interruption.  Wingenund,  with  all  his 
heroic  patience  and  selfdenial,  was  a  young 
half-starved  Indian,  and  the  delicacies  set  before 
him  vanished  in  a  few  minutes,  as  if  they  had 
been  placed  before  a  famished  wolf  Prairie- 
bird  offered  him  a  draught  of  water,  adding, 
with  an  affectionate  smile,  "  My  brother,  'tis 
well  that  there  is  no  more  meat,  a  full  meal  is 
dangerous  after  so  long  a  fast !" 

"  It  is  enough,"  replied  the  youth  ;  "  Winge- 
nund is  well  now." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  how  you  have  followed  to 
this  distant  region,  and  whether  you  have  seen 
anything  of  War-Eagle,  and  of — his  friends^" 

"  Wingenund  has  seen  none,"  he  replied  ; 
•*  nothing,  except  the  trail  of  Mahega,  and  that 
he  would  have  followed  to  the  big  salt  lake,  or 
to  death." 

"  But  how  has  it  been  possible  for  you  to 
pursue  the  trail  undiscovered,  to  find  food,  and 
to  avoid  strange  Indians  on  the  path!" 

"  Wingenund  kept  far  behind  the  Washashe  > 
their  eyes  could  not  reach  him  ;  he  has  left  on 
every  day's  trail  marks  that  War-Eagle  will 
know  ;  they  will  speak  to  him  as  plainly  as  my 
sister's  medicine  book  tells  her  the  Great  Spirit's 
will.  He  will  come  soon  and  his  friends  with 
him." 

"  But  my  brother  has  not  told  me  how  he 
procured  food  on  this  toilsome  journey  1" 

"  When  the  Lenape's  heart  is  full,  he  thinks 
little  of  food,"  replied  the  youth  proudly.  He 
added,  in  a  more  subdued  tone:  "  It  was  not 
easy  to  find  meat,  for  the  Washashe  had  driven 
the  bison  from  their  path,  and  Wingenund  could 
not  leave  their  trail.  Twice  he  has  met  bad  In- 
dians, who  tried  to  kill  him." 

"And  how  did  he  escape  them,  being  with- 
out a  horse  1"  inquired  Prairie-bird. 

"They  were  loo  many  for  him  to  fight,  and 
he  ran  from  them,  but  being  weak  with  hunger, 
one  Aricar4  overtook  him  by  the  waters  of  the 
Arkansas.  Wingenund  shot  him,  and  plunging 
into  the  river,  dived  ;  and  the  others  never 
found  him  ;  but  Wingenund  lost  his  rifle  ;  and 
since  then  he  has  eaten  only  roots  and  fruit." 

The  simple  narrative  of  the  hardships  and 
sufferings  which  her  young  brother  had  under- 
gone for  her  sake,  and  which  his  emaciated  ap- 
pearance attested  but  two  well,  brought  fresh 
tears  to  the  eyes  of  Prairie-bird,  but  she  check- 
ed them  as  well  as  she  was  able,  and  said, 


"  Tell  me  yet  one  more  thing  ;  how  have  yoB 
been  able  to  reach  this  spot  unperceived  by  the 
Osage  watchmen  V 

"  Wingenund  saw  from  far  the  camp  chosea 
by  Mahega  ;  he  saw  that  he  could  not  approach 
it  in  front  ;  but  the  rocks  behind  are  rough  and 
high  ;  he  made  a  rope  of  bark  and  grass,  climb- 
ed up  the  height,  and  let  himself  down  from  a 
pine-tree  above  the  tent ;  but  in  case  he  should 
be  discovered  and  killed  by  the  Osages,  he  has 
left  an  arrow  where  War-Eagle  is  sure  to  find 
it,  and  the  arrow  will  show  him  where  to  come." 

"  Dear,  dear  Wingenund,  you  are  imleed  a 
brother,"  said  the  maiden,  deeply  moved  by  the 
mingled  foresight,  patience,  and  devotion  that  he 
had  evinced.  "  You  are,  indeed,  a  worthy  son 
of  the  ancient  people." 

Here  she  was  interruped  by  a  shrill  cry  ;  Lita 
was  at  the  same  instant  thrown  rudely  aside  by 
Mahega,  who  rushed  into  the  tent,  followed  by 
two  of  his  warriors.  Wingenund  sprang  to 
his  feet,  but  ere  he  could  draw  the  knife  from 
his  girdle  he  was  seized  by  the  Osages,  and  his 
arras  pinioned  behind  his  back. 

Dark  and  lowering  was  the  frown  which  the 
angry  chief  cast  upon  his  prisoner.  The  Dei- 
aware  youth  quailed  not  before  it ;  the  hour  of 
trial  had  arrived,  and  the  haughty  spirit  rising 
within  him,  triumphed  over  all  that  he  had  un- 
dergone ;  all  that  he  knew  he  had  yet  to  under- 
go. He  drew  himself  to  the  full  height  of  his 
graceful  figure  ;  and  fixing  his  bright  keen  eye 
full  upon  Mahega,  awaited  his  fate  in  silence. 

"  Has  the  cunning  antelope  of  the  Delawares 
run  so  far  to  see  the  den  of  the  Black  Wolf!" 
demanded  the  chief,  with  a  contemptuous  sneer. 
"  Has  the  buffalo  bull  sent  the  calf  on  a  path 
that  he  was  afraid  to  tread  himself?  Have  the 
Lenape  girls  sent  one  of  their  number  to  carry 
wood  and  water  for  the  Washashe  warriors'!" 

Mahega  paused  ;  and  on  finding  that  his 
cowardly  and  brutal  jeers  called  forth  no  reply, 
nor  changed  a  muscle  on  the  haughty  counte- 
nance before  him,  his  anger  grew  more  ungov- 
ernable, and  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der, "  If  the  cur-dog  wdl  not  bark,  the  whip, 
and  the  knife,  and  the  fire  shall  find  him  a 
tongue  !  If  he  wishes  not  to  be  torn  in  pieces 
on  the  spot,  let  him  say  what  brought  him  to 
the  Osage  camp,  and  where  he  has  left  War- 
Eagle,  and  his  pale-faced  friends  !"  Neither  to 
the  threats  nor  the  inquiries  of  Mahega,  did 
Wingenund  deign  to  make  any  reply,  and  the 
enraged  chief  struck  him  across  the  face  with 
a  heavy  bull-hide  whip  suspended  from  his 
wrist  ;*  the  blow  was  given  with  such  force 
that  it  laid  open  the  youth's  cheek,  and  a  stream 
of  blood  poured  from  the  cut.  At  the  sight  of 
this  unmanly  outrage,  the  self-control  of  Prai- 
rie-bird almost  gave  way,  but  a  look  from  her 
brother  recalled  her  to  herself,  and  checked  the 
impulse  which  would  have  led  to  the  utterance 
of  entreaty  mingled  with  indignant  reproach. 

"  Speak  not,  my  sister,"  said  the  hero  boy  in 
the  Delaware  tongue  ;  "  speak  not  to  the  cow- 
ardly Washashe  wolf!  Waste  not  your  breath 
on  one  who  has  only  courage  to  strike  when  hia 
enemy's  hands  are  tied  I" 

*  The  Indians  in  the  Missouri  constnntly  carry  a  shoH 
wliij)  of  bull,  or  cow-hide,  sus|ieiuicil  fmin  their  wrisi, 
witti  which,  when  in  pursuit  of  lititf;ilu,  or  any  other 
game,  they  lash  their  horses  most  umuercifullv  '. 


112 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Malietfa  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  maiden,  and 
A  sudden  thoughl  lijihlcd  U[)  his  counlcnance 
with  11  gifain  (il  maligiuuil  triumph.  Ap[)r()ach- 
ing  close  to  licr,  he  said  in  a  stern  iow  whisper, 
"  Tomorrow,  belbre  the  sun  goes  down,  UUlipa 
becomes  the  bride  of  Maliega,  or  that  boy  is 
burned  at  a  slow  lire  wiih  such  tortures  as  the 
Lenap6  never  thouglit  of  in  dreams  !"  So  say- 
ing, he  ordered  the  prisoner  to  be  carefully 
guarded   -xnd  lefi  the  lent. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

War-Ea^lc's  Party  follow  the  Trail.— A  Skirmish,  and  its 
Ilesulls. — The  I'hicf  undertakes  a  perilous  Journey  alone, 
anil  his  Comiianions  find  sullicieut  Occuiiaiiou  durinj;  his 
Absence. 

Notwithstanding  the  pains  that  Wingenund 
uad  taken  to  leave  en  the  trail  such  occasional 
indications  a.s  might  assist  War-Eagle  in  follow- 
ing it,  the  progress  made  by  the  latter  was  much 
slower  than  might  have  been  expected  by  any 
one  who  knew  the  fierce  desire  of  vengeance  that 
burned  within  him.  Several  times  did  the  impa- 
tience of  Reginald  Brandon  vent  itself  in  words, 
which  he  addressed  in  an  undertone  to  Baptiste. 

"  I  fear  that  my  Delaware  brother  has  lost 
some  of  his  energies,  in  this  great  calamity 
which  has  befallen  his  tribe;  when  he  followed 
the  Dahcotah  trail  his  foot  was  light  and  swift, 
now,  when  more  than  life  and  death  may  hang 
upon  the  events  of  an  hour,  his  march  is  heavy 
and  slow  as  that  of  a  jaded  ox." 

"Master  Reginald,"  replieil  the  Guide;  "you 
do  the  "War-Eagle  wrong.  A  trail  on  this  hard 
barren  region  is  not  like  one  in  the  prairies  of 
Illinois,  or  Missouri,  where,  in  every  little  bot- 
tom, there  are  patches  of  long  grass  on  which  it 
is  marked  as  plain  as  a  high  road.  We  have 
passed  to-day  several  trails  of  strange  Indians, 
probably  Aricaras  or  Upsarokas  ;*  had  the  War- 
Eagle  made  a  mistake  and  followed  one  of  these, 
we  might  have  wandered  several  days  before  we 
recovered  our  right  route ;  watch  his  eye,  it  is 
bent  on  the  ground,  not  a  blade  of  grass  escapes 
it;  he  has  not  time  for  a  word,  even  with  you." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Baptiste;  yet  I  have 
now  studied  my  Delaware  brother's  counie- 
nance  and  character  for  some  time.  I  have  seen 
him  under  the  influence  of  strong,  ay  of  deadly 
passion,  and  I  truly  wondered  at  his  self-control, 
but  there  seems  now  to  be  a  dull,  heavy  load 
upon  his  spirit,  as  if  it  were  overwhelmed." 

"Look  at  your  feet  this  moment,"  quoth  the 
Guide;  "and  tell  me  if,  on  this  hard  spot,  you 
can  trace  the  trail  on  which  we  are  moving." 

"  In  truth  I  could  not,"  said  Reginald,  looking 
down ;  "  I  grant  our  friend's  sagacity  in  follow- 
ing it,  but  wliat  has  that  to  do  with  the  state  of 
his  mind  and  temper,  which  we  were  discuss- 
ing 1" 

"  More,  perhaps,  than  you  think,  Master  Re- 
ginald. Along  this  very  path  the  steps  of  Ma- 
h6ga  and  his  warriors  have  passed,  the  hoofs  of 
the  horse  bearing  Olitipa  have  trod  it;  it  is  now 
broad  daylight,  yet  you  can  see  nothing;  do  j'ou 
w  onder,  then,  that  yo  J  cannot  discern  the  trail  of 


*  llpsarnka,  the  Indian  name  of  the  tribe  usually  desig-- 
naAfid,  in  Rocky  Mountain  Travels,  as  the  "  Crows,"  a  fierce, 
roving  nation,  who  were  then,  as  they  still  are,  at  deadly 
enmity  with  their  neighbours  the  Dlackfeet,  andajrree  with 
them  unly  in  the  propensity  to  plunder  or  kill  -white  men, 
wnenever  opportuuity  offers. 


the  thoughts  and  purpose:  that  travel,  in  the 
dark,  over  the  heart  of  the  Delaware  1" 

"Baptiste,"  said  Reginald,  smiling,  "I  knew 
that  you  were  a  skil/ul  hunter,  and  an  experi- 
enced woodsman,  but  I  never  before  knew  that 
you  were  a  philosopher!" 

"Nor  I  either.  Master  Reginald;  but  perhaps 
I  may  not  be  one  after  all.  What  is  a  philoso 
pherl" 

This  blunt  question,  from  the  sturdy  Guide, 
seemed  somewtiat  puzzling  to  his  young  master, 
and  the  former  continued,  laughing,  "  Well,  I 
suppose  it's  some  curious  kind  o'  criitur  or  other 
that  we  never  heard  of  in  the  woods,  and  you 
don't  seem  to  have  met  it  often  yourself,  or  you'd 
not  find  it  so  hard  to  give  a  description  of  ii  I" 

"You  are  right,  Baptiste,  it  is  a  creature  not 
very  often  met  with,  either  in  the  woods  or  in 
civilized  life,  but  as  I  have  likened  you  to  it,  I 
am  in  duty  bound  to  describe  it  to  you  as  well  as 
I  can.  A  philosopher  is  a  man  whose  desires 
are  moderate,  and  his  passions  under  due  con- 
trol; who  can  trace  human  actions  to  their  real 
motives,  and  effects  lo  their  true  cau.ses;  who 
can  read  the  character  of  others  without  preju- 
dice, and  study  his  own  without  self-partiality; 
who  can  bear  prosperity  without  pride,  and  ad- 
versity without  repining; — such  is  my  idea  of  a 
philosopher,  the  sketch  is  rough,  but  sufhcient 
to  give  you  some  notion  of  the  object  in  view." 

The  Guide  was  silent  lor  a  few  moments;  he 
took  off  his  hairy  cap  and  twirled  it  several 
times  round  in  his  bony  hands,  as  was  his  fre- 
quent custom  when  perplexed.  At  length  he  re- 
plied, "Well,  Master  Reginald,  if  that  be  what 
you  call  a  philosopher,  I'm  sure  War-Eagle  is 
more  like  one  than  I  am,  and  perhaps,  you'll  not 
take  offence  if  I  say  that  he  is  more  like  one  ihaa 
you  are  yourself;  it  comes  natural  to  an  Ingian 
to  read  his  neighbour's  heart  and  hide  what 
passes  in  his  own.  And,  as  to  governing  his 
passions,  1  think  you  have  seen  enough  to  con- 
vince you  that,  although  they  were  as  hot  and 
\fild  as  was  the  horse  which  you  bestride,  they 
are  now  as  obedient  to  the  bridle  as  Nekimi." 

"I  grant  it,"  said  Reginald,  reinmg  in  the 
proud  steed  alluded  to  in  the  Guide's  illustra- 
tion; "I  grant  it,  and  see  how  earnestly  oar 
Delaware  friend  is  now  bent  upon  his  task;  he 
has  made  a  signal  for  the  party  to  halt,  and  is 
stooping  to  examine  a  blade  ot^  grass,  as  if  life 
itself  depended  upon  his  acute  sagacity." 

It  was,  jndeed,  as  the  young  man  said ;  the 
Delaware  chief  had  stooped  to  examine  a  bunch 
of  grass  by  the  side  of  the  trail,  in  which  his 
quick  glance  had  detected  a  small  object  which 
would  have  escaped  a  less  practised  eye;  with  a 
subdued  exclamation  of  surprise  he  seized  it, 
and  concealed  it  for  a  moment  in  his  hand,  a  ray 
of  animation  lighting  up  his  fine  countenance; 
it  was  but  for  a  moment,  his  features  almost  im- 
mediately relapsed  into  their  usual  melancholy, 
grave  expression  ;  and  drawing  near  to  Reginald, 
he  put  into  his  hands  a  small  golden  clasp,  say- 
iiig. 

"  My  brother,  War-Eagle  knows  it  well,  it  was 
given  by  the  Black  Father  to  Olitipa ;  the  trail 
is  clear  as  the  great  white  pathway  of  heaven."* 

Reginald  took  the  clasp,  and  seizing  the  hand 
which  held  it,  he  pressed  it  in  silence  to  his 
heart;  he  had  marked  the  varying  expression  on 
War-Eagle's  countenance,  he  saw  how  a  mo. 


*  By  this  name  the  milky  way  is  known  among  some  t 
the  Indian  tribes. 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


113 


■  nent's  recallection  had  changed  the  sanguine  ex- 
ultation 01  tlie  lover,  to  the  sad,  yet  steady  firm- 
ness of  the  friend  ;  and  his  heart  yearned  towards 
his  Indian  brother  with  an  affection  that  words 
rould  not  express;  but  they  were  not  needed; 
his  moistened  eye  and  glowing  cheek  spoke  vol- 
umes to  his  Iriend,  and  War-Eagle  bounded  for- 
ward again  upon  the  trail,  his  spirit  excited  by 
an  incident  which,  though  slight  in  itself,  had 
Jailed  forth  high  and  generous  emotions. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  Delaware  had  resu- 
med his  post  as  guide,  our  hero  purposely  fell  into 
the  rear  of  the  party,  and  throwing  the  rein  loose- 
^  ly  over  the  neck  of  his  horse,  turned  the  precious 
golden  relic  over  and  over  between  his  fingers, 
and  pressed  it  a  thousand  times  to  his  lips ;  the 
ground  over  which  they  were  travelling  was  a 
broken  series  of  ravines  or  ridges,  and  thus  he 
was  enabled  to  indulge  in  the  extravagant  en- 
dearments which  he  bestowed  upon  the  senseless 
trinket,  without  being  exposed  to  the  curious 
eyes  of  his  fellow-travellers,  now  out  of  his  sight. 

He  was  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  a  terrific 
yell,  accompanied  by  a  sharp  sensation  of  pain, 
and  on  raising  his  eyes  perceived  at  once  that  he 
was  cut  off  from  his  party  by  a  mounted  band  of 
Indians,  one  of  whom  had  shot  an  arrow  through 
the  fleshy  part  of  his  thigh,  into  the  flap  of  the 
saddle,  where  it  was  still  sticking.  Instantly  de- 
ciding that  it  was  better  to  trust  to  the  speed  of 
Nekimi,  than  to  the  desperate  chance  of  forcing 
liis  way  through  the  Indians  in  front,  he  struck 
ihe  steed  with  his  heel,  and  turning  his  head  to- 
wards the  open  prairie  to  the  left  of  the  trail, 
went  off  at  full  speed,  followed  by  several  mount- 
ed warriors;  his  first  care  was  to  secure  the 
clasp  within  his  hunting-shirt;  his  next  to  exam- 
ine the  priming  of  his  rifle,  and  of  the  pistols  at 
his  saddle-bow;  finding  these  all  in  order,  he 
looked  round  at  his  pursuers,  who,  although 
urging  their  horses  by  yells  and  blows,  did  not 
gain  upon  Nekimi  even  when  going  at  an  easy 
gallop. 

Reassured  by  finding  the  advantage  which  he 
had  over  his  enemies  in  the  speed  of  his  horse, 
Reginald  cut  the  arrow  where  it  pinned  his  leg 
to  the  saddle,  and  then  without  much  pain  or  dif- 
ficulty drew  the  shaft  from  the  flesh.  Being  now 
satisfied  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
wound,  he  turned  the  head  ef  his  horse  in  a  di- 
rection parallel  to  the  trail  on  which  his  party 
had  been  marching,  as  he  felt  that  his  ultima  " 
safety  must  depend  upon  his  not  being  separated 
from  them. 

A  loud  yell,  followed  by  a  succession  of  rifle- 
shots, announced  to  him  that  the  attack  on  his 
friends  had  commenced;  and  although  the  bro- 
ken nature  of  the  ground  still  prevented  him 
from  seeing  them,  he  could  gather  from  the 
sound  that  they  were  at  no  great  distance ;  right- 
ly judging  that  they  must  be  anxious  respecting 
his  own  safety,  he  now  applied  his  bugle  to  his 
.ips,  and  blew  a  clear  blast,  which  Baptiste  imme- 
diately recognised  as  the  concerted  signal  for 
"  All's  well,"  and  cheerily  responded  to. 

The  Indians  in  pursuit  of  Reginald  reined  in 
their  horses,  and  stood  gazing  at  each  other  in 
astonishment,  at  sounds  which  had  never  before 
reached  their  ear,  and  all,  excepting  one,  wheel- 
ed to  rejoin  the  main  body  of  their  band;  he 
who  remained  was  evidently  a  chief,  or  princi- 
pal brave,  his  dress  was  splendidly  adorned  with 
scalp-locks,  jagle-feathers,  and  beads;  and  in- 
stead of  the  jjiaven  crown  and  single  tuft  of  hair 
usually  worn  by  the  Pawnees^  and  other  Indians 
H 


of  the  Platte  and  Missouri  region,  his  long  black 
hair  streamed  over  his  shoulders,  and  fell  upon 
the  haunches  of  the  wild  spirited  courser  on 
which  he  was  mounted.  When  he  found  that 
the  number  of  his  enemies  was  reduced  to  a 
single  one,  Reginald  was  not  of  a  temper  to  con- 
sider flight  as  any  longer  necessary,  so  he  check- 
ed the  speed  of  Nekimi,  and  trotting  to  the  sum- 
mit of  a  rising-ground  in  front  of  him,  saw,  at  a 
little  distance  in  the  ravine  below,  the  skirmish 
that  was  still  continued  between  his  friends  and 
the  attacking  party. 

But  he  was  not  long  permitted  to  remain  an 
idle  spectator,  for  the  Indian,  having  recovered 
from  the  surprise  occasioned  by  the  bugle-call, 
was  again  approaching  him  at  full  speed;  Regi- 
nald turned  his  horse  towards  his  assailant,  and 
deliberately  raising  his  rifle,  waited  until  the 
latter  should  be  near  enough  to  afford  him  a  cer- 
tain aim  ;  but  the  Indian  observing  his  cool,  de- 
termined bearing,  and  having  some  experiefice 
of  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  white  man's  weap- 
on, suddenly  wheeled  his  horse,  and  galloped  to 
and  fro  in  a  zigzag  direction,  sometimes  advan- 
cing, sometimes  retreating,  with  a  rapidity 
that  left  Reginald  in  doubt  whether  he  were 
meditating  an  attack,  or  desirous  only  of  ex- 
hibiting his  wonderful  powers  of  horsemanship. 

These  doubts  were,  however,  soon  resolved ; 
for  in  one  of  these  swift  evolutions,  when  passing 
the  spot  where  Reginald  stood,  at  a  distance  of 
fifty  yards,  the  Indian  suddenly  threw  himself 
half  off  his  horse,  and  hanging  over  its  side,  dis- 
charged from  under  the  animal's  neck  an  arrow, 
which  whizzed  close  by  Reginald's  ear;  then, 
when  he  was  himself  out  of  shot,  resumed  his 
seat  in  the  saddle,  and  again  wheeling  his  horse, 
prepared  to  repeat  a  manoeuvre  which  nad  so 
nearly  been  attended  with  success. 

On  this  second  occasion  Reginald  was  resolv- 
ed to  try  his  chance  with  the  rifle,  and  when  his 
enemy,  emboldened  by  the  quiet,  and  apparently 
surprised  demeanour  of  the  white  man,  threw 
himself  again  over  the  side  of  his  horse,  and 
came  within  a  nearer  range,  our  hero  levelled 
his  rifle  at  the  animal,  whose  body  shielded  com- 
pletely that  of  his  opponent,  and  the  ball  taking 
effect  behind  the  shoulder,  both  horse  and  man 
rolled  upon  the  grass. 

Reginald  sprung  from  his  saddle  and  hastened 
to  the  spot,  hoping  to  secure  the  Indian  while 
still  encumbered  by  the  fallen  horse,  but  the  ac- 
tive savage  leaped  upon  his  feet,  and  not  having 
lu,  e  to  fit  an  arrow  to  the  string,  struck  a  fu- 
rious, but  unsuccessful  blow  at  the  young  man's 
head  with  his  bow,  then  uttering  his  war-cry, 
rushed  upon  him  with  a  long  sharp  knife  that  he 
had  drawn  from  his  belt ;  but  the  Indian  had 
mistaken  both  the  skill  and  strength  of  the  oppo- 
nent with  whom  he  thus  rashly  endeavoured  to 
close,  and  in  a  moment  Reginald's  cutlass  was 
buried  in  his  chest.  In  vain  he  summoned  all 
his  remaining  strength  to  strike  a  last  blow,  both 
hand  and  eye  refused  their  aid,  and  he  fell  heavi- 
ly forward  upon  the  grass ;  Reginald,  sheath- 
ing his  cutlass,  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  wounded 
man,  and  strove  to  staunch  the  blood;  but  his 
efforts  were  fruitless,  the  lungs  were  pierced,  and 
it  was  evident  that  death  was  fast  approaching. 

The  Indian,  still  conscious  of  what  was  pass- 
ing around,  and  momentarily  expecting  the  scalp- 
knife  upon  his  forehead,  the  usual  fate  of  the 
conquered  among  those  of  his  race,  gazed  in 
surprise  upon  the  countenance  of  the  young 
man,  who  was  now  tending  him  with  compas- 


m 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


ionate  anxief}' ;  they  could  not  interchange  a 
word ;  the  Indian  feebly  raised  his  hand  to  his 
head  with  an  inquiring  look,  and  then  pointed 
to  the  knife;  Reginald  shook  his  head,  as  if  to 
intimate  that  he  need  he  under  no  apprehension 
oftl  at  indignity,  and  then  continued  his  earnest, 
but  inefleclual  endeavours  to  staunch  the  flow- 
ing blond,  while  the  sufl'erer's  head  rested  upon 
his  shoulder. 

_  During  this  time  not  a  groan  escaped  from  the 
ips  of  ihe  savage  warrior;  but  feeling  his  end  at 
hand,  he  gathered  his  dying  energies,  and  taking 
from  his  neck  the  magnificent  collar  which  he 
wore,  made  from  the  claws  of  a  grizzly  bear, 
bound  together  with  skins  of  snow-white  er- 
mine, he  gave  it  to  Reginald,  making  him  a  sign 
that  he  should  wear  it,  then  supporting  himself 
in  a  sitting  posture  by  the  end  of  his  bow,  which 
he  had  caught  up  from  the  ground,  and  with  his 
eye  steadily  fixed  upon  the  snow-clad  peak  now 
viable  in  the  western  horizon,  the  prairie-war- 
rior breathed  his  last. 

As  soon  as  Reginald  was  assured  that  life 
was  extinct,  he  stretched  the  unconscious  limbs, 
closed  the  eyes,  gathered  the  massive  hair  over 
the  rigid  countenance,  and  arranged  the  arms 
and  accoutrements  decently  beside  the  fallen 
chieftain,  knowing  well  that  it  would  not  be  long 
before  the  boay  was  borne  off  by  those  of  his 
own  tribe.  There  was  neither  exultation  nor 
triumph  on  the  young  man's  countenance,  as  he 
looked  from  the  lifeless  form  of  his  late  adver- 
sary to  that  of  the  steed,  which  lay  dead  beside 
him,  on  which,  not  many  minutes  before,  he 
was  careering  over  his  native  plains  in  the  pride 
and  vigour  of  manhood ;  he  felt  that  the  strength, 
the  activity,  the  courage  of  the  savage  warrior, 
were  equal  to  his  own;  that  it  had  depended 
upon  a  single  successful  thrust  whether  of  the 
two  should  be  now  taking  his  last  uncoffined 
sleep  in  the  wilderness.  Sad  thoughts  of  his 
waiting  mother  and  sister,  musings  on  the  fate 
of  Prairie-bird  stole  upon  his  heart,  and  he  con- 
tinued gazing  almost  unconsciously  on  the  body 
of  the  Indian,  until  he  was  aroused  by  a  shrill 
blast  from  the  bugle  of  Baptiste;  the  signal- 
blast  was  "Beware;"  and  casting  his  eyes 
around,  he  saw  that  the  band  of  Indians  who 
had  been  skirmishing  with  War-Eagle's  party, 
were  advancing  at  full  speed  to  the  spot  where 
he  stood.  His  spirit  rekindled  by  this  fresh  ex- 
citement, he  caught  up  his  rifle,  and  vaulting  on 
the  back  of  Nekimi,  gave  him  the  rein.  The 
pursuers  soon  found  that  their  chance  of.over- 
taking  him  was  hopeless,  and  while  they  gather- 
ed round  the  body  of  their  fallen  chief,  Reginald 
rejoined  his  party,  who  received  him  with  a 
shout  of  triumph  that  reached  the  ears  of  the 
mourners  on  the  far  prairie. 

As  Reginald  dismounted  and  walked  gravely 
through  the  group  to  salute  War-Eagle,  every 
eye  was  fixed  upon  the  bear-claw  collar  around 
his  neck,  and  he  received  the  silent  homage 
vvhich  Indian  warriors  pay  to  successful  valour. 

There  was  also  a  quiet  dignified  modesty  in 
the  young  man's  bearing  and  demeanour,  which 
did  not  escape  their  observant  and  approving 
eyes.  "  My  brother  is  welcome,"  said  War- 
Eagle,  extending  his  hand  to  greet  his  friend; 
"he  has  killed  a  great  chief;  when  the  warriors 
tell  their  deeds  at  the  war-dance,  the  tongue  of 
Netis  will  not  be  silent." 

"  The  red-man  of  the  prairie  was  brave,"  re- 
plied Reginald ;  "  he  died  like  a  warrior,  i  trust 
bis  spirit  is  gone  to  the  happy  land." 


"  Master  Reginald,"  said  the  guide,  thrusting 
his  large  bony  hand  into  that  of  our  hero,  "it 
did  my  heart  good  to  see  the  Ingian  fall ;  he 
sprang  upon  you  like  a  tiger,  and  1  feared  he 
might  catch  you  unawares." 

"No,  Baptiste,  no;  he  was  a  gallant  fellow, 
and  I  am  truly  sorry  that,  in  self-defence,  I  was 
obliged  to  kill  him,  but  the  advantages  were  all 
on  my  side.  Nekimi  was  far  swifter  than  his 
horse,  and  his  knife  was  no  match  for  my  cut- 
lass. Do  you  know  to  what  tribe  he  ind  his 
party  belonged  1" 

"Capote-bleu,  Master  Reginald,  this  is  the 
first  time  you  have  seen  Les  Corbeaux — Upsa- 
roka  they  call  themselves;  they  are  a  wild  race." 
And  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "We  shall  see 
more  of  them  before  we  go  much  farther." 

"In  the  skirmish  which  they  had  with  you, 
were  any  wounded  on  either  side?" 

"  Not  many,  for  the  rascals  galloped  about  in 
such  an  unaccountable  flurry,  it  wasn't  easy  to 
make  sure  work  with  the  rifle;  but  the  doctor 
scored  the  ribs  of  one,  and  I  think  AVar-Eagle 
struck  another;  they  kept  at  a  very  unfamiliar 
distance,  and  their  arrows  were  as  harmless  as 
snow-flakes." 

"  How  fared  it  with  Monsieur  Perrol  Y'  in- 
quired Reginald,  who  saw  the  light-hearted  valet 
grinning  with  satisfaction  at  his  master's  victory 
and  safe  return;  "did  he  not  try  his  skill  upon 
any  of  these  marauding  Crows'?" 

"Well,  I  hardly  know,"  said  the  guide, 
"  Master  Perrot  is  like  the  bear  in  the  tree,  he 
fights  very  w^ll  when  he  can't  help  it;  but  I  con- 
ceive he's  not  over-fond  of  the  redskins  ever 
since  that  Dahcotah  handled  his  wig  so  roughly ! 
What  say  you,  Monsieur  Perrot  V 

"  Monsieur  Baptiste  is  not  altogether  wrong," 
replied  the  good-humoured  valet;  "if  one  of 
those  red  Corbeaux  come  very  near  to  peck  me, 
I  do  my  best  to  pluck  his  feathers  out;  but  I 
much  rather  see  a  fat  partridge  or  capon  than 
one  of  them !" 

The  conversation  between  the  Frenchman  and 
the  guide  was  interrupted  by  War-Eagle,  who 
made  a  sign  to  the  latter,  as  well  as  to  Regi- 
nald, that  he  wished  to  speak  with  them  apart. 

"  Brother,"  said  the  Chief,  addressing  our 
hero,  "the  tlpsarokas  are  many;  their  warriors 
are.  like  the  bison-herds;  they  will  soon  return 
to  our  path,  we  must  be  ready  for  them.  What 
is  my  brother's  counsel  1" 

"  Baptiste,"  said  the  )'oung  man,  "you  have 
more  experience  in  these  matters  than  I  have; 
speak  first." 

The  Guide  did  not  reply  immediately;  he 
bent  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  and  his  fingers 
rested  on  the  head  of  the  massive  hatchet  from 
whence  he  derived  his  Indian  name.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  with  slow  but  decisive  enunciation. 
"War-Eagle  has  spoken  truly,  the  Crows  will 
return  in  greater  numbers;  tney  will  seek  re- 
venge for  the  death  of  their  chief;  they  are 
brave,  but  their  arms  are  bad — we  are  few,  but 
our  weapons  can  do  service.  My  counsel  is, 
that  we  choose  a  strong  camp  and  await  their 
coming;  we  will  then  handle  them  so  that  they 
shall  not  desire  to  interrupt  us  again,  or  perhaps 
they  may  oflfer  to  make  a  treaty  upon  our  own 
terms." 

"The  words  of  Grande-HSche  are  wise,"  re- 
joined the  Chief;  "  he  does  not  waste  his  breath 
in  blowing  against  tne  wind.     What  says  my 
brother  Netis  1" 
"He  says,"  replied  Reginald,  with  his  char 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD 


115 


acteristic  impetuosity,  "  that  the  counsel  of 
Grande-]  fache  may  be  good  for  our  own  safety, 
but  it  will  not  bring  us  nearer  to  Mahega.  ]Ne- 
lis  would  follow  the  Osage  trail  in  spite  of  all 
the  Crows  between  the  Platte  and  the  Mount- 
ains." 

"  My  brother  speaks  like  a  warrior  without 
fear,"  said  the  Chief  in  reply;  "yet  we  cannot 
follow  the  trail  of  the  Washashe  while  fighting 
by  day  and  by  night  wiih  the  Upsaroka.  W"  ir- 
Eagle  will  jom  the  counsel  of  Grande- Hache  to 
that  of  Netis.  Let  us  choose  a  strong  camp, 
bring  in  plenty  of  meat,  and  prepare  lo  receive 
the  Upsaroka.  I  will  steal  away  alone  in  the 
night.  I  will  follow  the  trail  of  Mahega,  and 
return  to  tell  my  brother  what  I  have  seen.  It 
is  enough,  1  have  spoken." 

Both  the  Guide  and  Reginald  approved  the 
Chief's  decision;  ,and  although  our  hero  would 
"ather  have  accompanied  him  on  the  trail,  he 
felt  that  he  would  impede  the  progress  of  his 
Indian  brother,  whose  fleetness  of  loot  was  so 
much  greater  than  his  own;  he  therefore  acqui- 
esced with  cheerlulness,  and  they  set  forward  to 
select  a  camp  that  should  unite  the  advantages 
of  a  defensible  position  to  those  of  a  plentiful 
supply  of  water. 

For  several  hours  War-Eagle  pursued  the 
Osage  trail  without  halting,  but  his  keen  eye 
roved  occasionally  from  side  to  side  in  search 
of  a  spot  favourable  for  encampment,  while 
Reginald  and  Bapliste  brought  up  the  rear  of 
the  party;  the  former  mounted  on  Nekimi,  pre- 
pared to  gallop  forward  to  the  front  and  give  the 
alarm,  in  case  of  the  reappearance  of  the  ma- 
Tauding  Crows.  About  an  hour  before  sunset 
ihey  reached  a  valley  watered  by  a  small  stream, 
the  taste  of  which  proved  refreshing,  and  free 
from  the  salt  with  which  that  region  abounds ; 
near  the  centre  of  the  valley  was  a  thick  copse 
of  aider  and  willow,  covering  a  space  of  fifty  or 
sixty  yards  square.  On  forcing  his  way  through 
the  outer  bushes,  War-Eagle  found  an  open  plot 
of  fine  level  turf,  entirely  surrounded  by  the 
copse  which  sheltered  it  from  view  on  all  sides. 
The  Delaware,  having  brought  his  party  into 
this  natural  encampment,  and  picqueted  the 
horses  within  the  space  above-mentioned,  made 
a  careful  examination  of  the  thicket,  in  which 
he  was  accompanied  by  Reginald  and  Baptiste; 
they  then  selected  the  points  from  which  they 
could  best  command  the  approaches  from  dif- 
ferent quarters;  at  these  they  piled  logs  and 
branches  matted  with  grass  and  turf,  from  be- 
hind which  secure,  though  slight  breast-work, 
they  could  take  deliberate  aim  at  any  hostile 
party  approaching  from  the  prairie.  Before 
dusk  their  preparations  were  complete;  the 
watch  was  set,  and  the  remainder,  after  a  frugal 
supper,  forgot  the  fatigues  of  the  day  in  sleep. 

The  night  passed  without  the  occurrence  of 
any  alarm ;  and  an  hour  before  daylight,  War- 
Eagle  arose  and  prepared  himself  for  his  peril- 
ous expedition,  after  the  ancient  fashion  of  his 
tribe ;  a  fashion  which  the  Delawares,  in  com- 
aaon  with  most  of  the  semi-civilized  Indians, 
fiava  in  these  modern  days  neglected,  if  not  for- 
gotten. 

Having  smeared  himself  from  head  to  foot 
with  an  ointment  made  from  -the  fat  and  mar- 
row of  deer,  he  painted  his  face  and  chest  with 
stripes  of  a  dark  colour,  purposely  making  the 
form  and  device  to  resemble  those  of  the  Mis- 
Eourian  nations.  He  wore  upon  his  legs  a  light 
pair  o^ <ieer3kin  leggins,  without  ornament,  sup- 


ported at  the  waist  by  his  belt;  from  the  jatter 
was  suspended  on  one  side  his  tomahawk,  on 
the  oiher  his  knile;  he  also  stuck  into  it  a  brace 
of  loaded  pistols  given  to  him  by  Reginald,  and 
within  the  Iblds  secured  some  bullets  and  charges 
of  powder,  as  well  as  a  few  slices  of  dried  buf- 
falo-meat; his  throat,  chest,  and  arms  were 
nakfed,  with  the  exception  of  a  small  light 
blanket,  which,  when  thrown  across  his  shoul- 
der, did  not  in  the  least  impede  the  free  exercise 
either  of  his  hands  or  feet.  As  speed  was  now 
his  chief  object,  he  left  both  his  rifle  and  his 
heavy  war-club  in  the  charge  of  Reginald,  who 
looked  on  with  mingled  feelings  of  admiration 
and  envy,  while  his  friend  was  preparing  for  his 
solitary  journey.  Knowing  that  War-Eagle,  if 
successful  in  his  undertaking,  would  see  the 
Prairie-bird,  he  longed  to  send  by  him  a  thou- 
sand messages  of  love,  yet  he  remembered  and 
respected  the  feelings  of  his  friend,  and,  con- 
trolling his  own,  embraced  him  in  silence. 

As  War-Eagle  was  about  to  depart,  Reginald 
was  surprised  at  seeing  him  attach  to  his  belt  a 
small  bunch  of  feathers,  carefully  tied  together, 
and  he  imagined  that  they  might  be  in  some 
measure  connected  with  his  Indian  brother's  to- 
tem, or  heraldic  designation,  but  the  latter  re- 
solved his  doubts  by  saying  to  him  and  to  Bap- 
tiste, 

"War-Eagle  will  follow  the  trail  of  Washa- 
she as  swiftly  as  his  feet  can  run;  whenever  it 
is  difficult  to  find,  or  divides  in  a  fork,  he  will 
stick  one  of  these  small  feathers  in  the  grass; 
let 'Atto' follow  first  on  the  trail;  he  has  been 
often  on  the  war-path,  and  his  eyes  are  good; 
Grande-Hache  with  his  long  rifle"  should  come 
next — let  my  brother  go  last  with  Nekimi,  and 
let  him  always  have  eyes  in  his  back;  the  Up- 
sarokas  are  cunning,  and  the  wives  of  a  dead 
chief  are  lamenting.  If  War-Eagle  lives,  he 
will  return  quick  and  meet  his  brothers  on  the 
trail;  if  he  is  killed,  he  will  meet  them  after- 
wards in  the  fields  where  his  fathers  hunt.  Fare- 
well." So  saying,  the  Delaware  chief  pointed 
impressively  to  the  distant  ridge  of  the  mount- 
ains, and  left  the  encampment. 

After  the  departure  of  War-Eagle,  Reginald 
busied  himself)  with  tjie  aid  of  Baptiste,  in  tna- 
king  further  preparations  against  the  expected  at- 
tack. On  inquiring  of  the  latter,  he  learned,  with 
much  satisfaction,  that  Atto  or  A-t6  {Anglici, 
"  The  Deer,")  who  had  been  designated  by  the 
chief  as  leader  on  the  trail  in  his  absence,  was  a 
tried  and  experienced  warrior.  His  appearance, 
indeed,  was  not  much  in  his  favour,  for  he  was 
small  and  spare  in  stature,  and  his  features, 
though  not  positively  ugly,  were  stern,  and  rare- 
ly lighted  up  by  expression ;  his  eye  was  pier- 
cing rather  than  brilliant,  and  he  scarcely  ever 
spoke,  excepting  in  reply  to  a  question.  His 
swiftness  of  foot,  which  was  almost  equal  to  that 
of  War-Eagle  himself,  had  procured  for  him  the 
appellation  by  which  he  was  known  in  the  tribe. 
It  should  however,  in  justice  to  him,  be  mention- 
ed, that  he  seldom  ran  from  an  enemy,  for  his 
courage  was  proverbial,  and  in  a  f&nner  expedi- 
tion,against  theDahcotahs,  he  had  made  severa. 
escapes  so  extraordinary,  that  his  comrades  had 
given  him  a  name  consisting  of  sixteen  or  sev- 
enteen syllables,  which  we  will  not  inflict  U])oa 
civilized  eyes  or  ears,  but  which  signifies,  "  The- 
man-who-cannot-be-killed-by-an-arrow." 

Reginald  finding  that  Atto  was  familiar  whh 
the  English  tongue,  and  desirous  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  his  new  officer,  addressed  him  as  fol- 
lows: 


116 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  Does  Atto  ihink  that  the  Upsaroka  will  come 
to-day  1" 

"  I'hey  will  come." 

"Will  they  attack  us  in  this  position?" 

"Perhaps;  the  Upsarokas  are  fools — they  do 
not  know  the  Lenap6." 

"  Are  you  satisfied  with  the  arrangements  we 
have  made  for  the  defence'?" 

"  Yes;  but  you  should  let  the  horses  feed  out- 
side, with  a  guard,  or  they  will  soon  eat  up  the 
grass  within;  it  will  be  time  enough  to  drive 
them  in  when  the  Upsaroka  come." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Reginald,  frankly,  and 
he  ordered  it  to  be  done  immediately. 

Savages  are  extremely  like  ourselves  in  all 
that  concerns  the  internal  workings  of  self-re- 
spect; and  if  Reginald  already  stood  higli  in  At- 
to's  opinion  for  his  courage  and  bodily  advanta- 
ges, the  Indian  was  disposed  to  think  more  high- 
ly of  him  when  he  found,  even  in  a  matter  so  tri- 
fling, that  the  young  man  listened  to  and  follow- 
ed his  counsel. 

The  forenoon  passed  without  any  tidings  of 
the  Crows,  and  Reginald,  impatient  of  a  state  of 
inaction,  resolved  to  sally  forth  upoii  Nekimi, 
and  to  make  a  sweep  over  the  adjacent,  undula- 
ting prairie,  to  see  whether  he  could  discover  any 
signs  of  them. 

Armed  with  his  knife,  pistols,  and  cutlass,  he 
slung  his  spy-glass  over  his  shoulder,  and  vault- 
ed on  the  back  of  his  favourite,  charging  Bap- 
tiste  and  Atto,  now  left  in  joint  command  of  the 
garrison,  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out,  and  promising 
to  return  before  dusk. 

How  did  his  blood  dance  with  excitement  as 
he  found  himself  trotting  briskly  across. the  vir- 
gin turf  of  that  wild,  boundless,  vegetable  ocean ; 
beneath  him  a  steed  bold,  eager,  joyous  as  him- 
.self;  above  him  a  blue  immensity  of  unclouded 
sky;  and  around  him  breezes  fresh  from  the 
snowy  chambers  of  the  Northern  Andes!  Nor 
were  the  sources  of  excitement  from  within 
wanting  to  complete  its  measure, — a  conscious- 
ness of  youth,  and  health,  and  strength ;  a  mind 
capable  of  appreciating  the  wonders  of  Nature, 
and  of  following  them  up  to  their  Almighty  Fra- 
mer;  a  heart  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  image 
of  a  kindred  being  whose  love  he  doubted  not, 
and  whom,  in  spite  of  dangers  and  obstacles,  his 
ardent  and  sanguine  spirit  whispered  that  he 
would  soon  rejoin  ! 

Again  and  again  did  he  draw  from  his  bosom 
the  precious  clasp,  which  assured  him  that  he 
was  following  her  footsteps,  and  then  replacing 
it.  he  would  stoop  over  the  neck  of  Nekimi,  and 
caressing  his  playful  ear,  and  gentl)'  pressing  his 
flank,  the  noble  creature  caracoled,  neighed,  and 
bounded  beneath  him,  like  the  "  wild  and  wanton 
herd"  described  in  one  of  the  most  exquisite 
scenes  depicted  by  our  immortal  dramatist.* 

Notwithstanding  the  excited  flow  of  his  spirits, 
Reginald  did  not  forget  the  object  of  his  excur- 
sion ;  he  not  only  noted  carefully  the  various  re- 
markable features  of  the  surrounding  country, 
so  as  to  secure,  in  case  of  need,  his  retreat  to  the 
encampment,  but  he  scanned  the  side  of  every 
Hll,  and  the  bosom  of  every  valley  that  he  pass- 
ed, to  see  whether  any  parties  of  the  Upsaroka 
were  yet  within  view. 

He  had  ridden  many  miles  without  seeing  any- 
thing alive,  except  a  few  straggling  bufl^alos  and 
antelopes,  and  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to- 
wards the  camp,  when  he  descried  some  moving 
body  on  the   sky-line  in  the   eastern  horizon ; 


Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  v 


throwing  himself  from  his  horse,  he  adjusted  hfs 
telescope,  and  fixing  it  on  the  object,  ascertained 
at  once  that  it  was  a  large  party  of  Indians  on 
horseback.  Although  his  glass  was  of  excellent 
quality,  they  were  so  distant  that  he  could  not 
count  them,  but  he  was  satisfied  that  they  con- 
siderably exceeded  a  hundred.  Observing  that 
their  course  was  directed  westward,  he  was  able, 
by  descending  an  oblique  ravine,  to  reach  the 
edge  of  a  copse  which  they  were  likely  to  pass 
at  no  great  distance,  whence,  himself  unseen,  lia 
might  watch  their  movements,  and  form  a  more 
accurate  estimate  of  their  force. 

He  had  not  been  long  stationed  at  the  post 
which  he  had  selected  for  this  purpose,  when  the 
band  came  full  in  view  on  the  ridge  of  a  neigh- 
bouring hill. 

That  it  was  a  war-party  of  the  Crows  he  could 
no  longer  doubt,  as  their  dress  and  appearance 
were  precisely  the  same,  and  they  were  follow- 
ing with  the  faultless  sagacity  of  a  pack  of  blood- 
hounds, the  trail  which  he  and  his  companion.s 
had  trodden  on  the  preceding  day. 

Being  completely  sheltered  from  their  view  by 
the  copse,  he  was  able  to  observe  their  move- 
ments, and  to  plan  his  own  accordingly;  he 
counted  upwards  of  two  hundred  and  fil'ty  mount- 
ed warriors,  and  his  impression  was  that  their 
numbers  amounted  in  all  to  nearly  three  hun- 
dred ;  they  moved  forward  upon  the  trail  at  an 
even  pace  until  they  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
whence  they  could  perceive,  although  at  a  con- 
siderable distance,  tne  thicket  in  which  the  Del- 
awares  were  encamped.  Pausing  here,  they  held 
a  brief  council ;  it  was  clear  that  they  suspected 
that  the  above-named  wood  contained  those  ol 
whom  they  were  in  pursuit,  nor  was  it  long  be- 
fore their  lynx  eyes  detected  a  slight  column  of 
smoke  curling  up  above  the  trees,  on  seeing 
which  they  shouted  aloud,  while  their  rapid  and 
vehement  gesticulations  sufficiently  explained  to 
Reginald  the  discovery  that  they  had  made. 

It  was  eviaently  not  the  present  intention  of 
the  Crows  to  make  an  open  attack,  for  they  now 
divided  'heir  force  into  two  bands,  each  of  which 
pursued  its  course  along  the  back  of  the  ridges 
which  crowned  the  valley  wherein  the  encamp- 
ment lay,  and  thus  they  would  be  enabled  to 
reach  a  point  not  far  distant  from  their  enemy 
on  opposite  sides,  before  their  apprcach  could 
be  perceived. 

The  position  of  Reginald  himself  was  now 
critical,  for  in  his  eagerness  to  watch  the  mo- 
tions of  the  Indians,  he  had  allowed  them  to  get 
between  him  and  his  own  party  ;  it  only  remain- 
ed for  him,  therefore,  to  decide  whether  he  should 
endeavour  to  reach  the  camp  unperceived,  or 
trusting  to  the  speed  of  Nekimi,  ride  boldly  to- 
wards it;  he  chose  the  latter,  rightly  judging  the 
impossibility  of  escaping  Indian  eyes  in  sl  open 
a  country,  and  he  thought  it  also  probable  that 
if  they  meditated  a  night  attack  upon  the  en- 
campment, they  would  permit  him  to  enter  it 
without  showing  themselves. 

Having  therefore  examined  the  priming  oi 
his  pistols,  and  loosened  his  cutlass  in  the 
sheath,  he  pushed  his  way  through  the  thicket, 
and  emerging  on  the  opposite  side,  rode  dflib 
erately  forward. 

Choosing  the  most  open  ground,  he  pursued 
his  homeward  way  down  the  valley,  and  though 
his  eye  glanced  occasionally  to  the  hills  on  each 
side,  not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  he  found  him.self  again  within  the 
precincts  of  the  wooded  camp. 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


117 


The  gravity  of  his  demeanour  as  he  joined 
his  companions,  led  them  to  conjecture  that  he 
had  seen  some  trace  of  their  enemies,  which  im- 

[)ression  was  conhrmed  amongst  them  when  he 
ed  Baptiste  and  Atlo  aside  to  hold  with  them  a 
council  of  war. 

Having  briefly  detailed  what  he  had  seen,  he 
expressed  his  belief  that  the  Crows  had  divided 
thi;ir  force  for  the  purpose  of  attacking  the  camp 
in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  night,  and  conclu- 
ded by  asking  their  opinion  as  to  the  most  advi- 
sable means  of  defence.  After  a  short  delibera- 
tion, it  was  agreed  that  four  men  should  watch 
at  the  opposite  sides  of  the  thicket,  each  of  whom 
being  well  sheltered  behind  a  log  of  wood  al- 
ready rolled  to  its  edge,  could  detect  the  ap- 
proach of  an  enemy  from  the  prairie,  and  that 
each  should  be  provided  with  two  loaded  rifles, 
so  that  in  case  of  his  being  obliged  to  fire  one  to 
give  the  alarm,  he  might  still  have  another 
ready  for  immediate  use. 

These  preparations  having  been  made,  and 
the  horses  brought  within  the  encampment,  the 
little  party  sat  down  to  their  supper,  and  after- 
wards smoked  their  pipes  as  unconcernedly  as 
if  neither  Crows  nor  danger  were  lurking  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Night  came  on,  and  those  whose 
turn  it  was  to  sleep,  announced  by  their  heavy 
breathing  that  the  hour  of  rest  was  not  unwel- 
come; Monsieur  Perrot  snored  so  loudly  from 
beneath  the  pile  of  blankets  in  which  he  had  en- 
veloped himself,  that  he  more  than  once  receiv- 
ed a  slight  admonition  from  the  elbow  of  the 
half-awakened  Guide,  who  lay  beside  him.  Regi- 
nald, however,  was  in  a  mood  which  would 
have  no  fellowship  with  sleep,  his  thoughts 
were  of  Prairie-bird,  still  in  Mahega's  power,  of 
his  Indian  brother,  now  far  on  his  solitary  and 
dangerous  journey,  of  the  lurking  foes  whose 
attack  he  hourly  expected,  and  of  the  familiar 
faces  at  Mooshanne,  whom  distance  and  ab- 
sence now  rendered  doubly  dear.  The  night 
v/as  dark,  for  the  young  moon,  after  traversing 
her  appointed  section  of  the  southern  sky,  had 
disappeared,  and  the  twinkling  stars  threw  but 
an  uncertain  light,  rendered  yet  more  doubtful 
by  the  leafy  branches  which  waved  gently  to 
and  fro  under  the  light  breath  of  the  night  breeze. 

In  order  to  give  some  employment  to  his  un- 
quiet spirit,  Reginald  resolved  to  visit  the  sev- 
eral stations  where  his  sentries  were  posted,  and 
throwing  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  arose  and 
commenced  his  rounds.  Moving  with  a  slow 
and  noiseless  step,  he  went  to  each  of  the  posts 
in  succession,  and  finding  all  the  watchmen  on 
the  alert,  whispered  to  each  a  word  of  approba- 
tion. The  last  station  that  he  visited  was  occu- 
pied by  Atto,  and  Reginald,  sitting  down  behind 
the  log,  conversed  with  him  for  a  short  time,  in 
a  low  tone  of  voice,  each  pausing  at  intervals 
to  listen  and  look  out  upon  the  valley.  On  a 
sudden,  Atto,  touching  his  arm,  pointed  to  a 
spot  near  the  summit  of  the  neighbouring  hill; 
and  following  the  direction  indicated,  Reginald 
could  plainly  see  a  small  light,  as  of  a  dry  stick, 
which  burned  for  a  few  seconds  and  was  then 
extinguished. 

"  Let  Netis  watch,"  whispered  the  Indian ; 
'Atto  will  return  directly;"  and  with  these 
words  he  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 

Not  many  minutes  elapsed  ere  he  came  back, 
md  in  the  same  subdued  tone,  said,  "  All  is 
well  now,  the  Upsaroka  are  coming,  Atto  saw  the 
tame  light  on  the  other  hill ;  it  is  a  sign  for  both 
parties-  to  attack  from  opposite  sides  at  once." 


"  All  is  well,  indeed,"  thought  Reginald,  with- 
in himself  "This  fellow  must  have  a  strange 
stomach  for  fighting,  when  he  applies  such  a 
term  to  an  expected  conflict,  where  the  odds  are 
to  be  two  or  three  hundred  to  ten." 

These  were  Reginald's  thoughts,  for  a  mo- 
ment; but  his  words  were:  "Baptiste,  Perrot, 
and  I,  will  remain  at  this  post,  you  can  spare 
us  also  one  of  your  warriors;  you  will  guard 
the  opposite  post  with  three  others;  there  will 
remain  one  to  move  constantly  round  within  the 
edge  of  the  thicket,  to  summon  us  to  any  point 
where  the  Crows  may  threaten  an  attack.  Is 
the  plan  good,  what  says  my  brother  1" 

"  It  is  good,"  replied  the  Indian,  and  they  set 
about  it  forthwith  in  earnest  and  in  silence. 

Reginald  and  Baptiste,  having  previously  ex- 
amined all  the  logs  which  were  now  to  serve  for 
their  defence,  lost  no  time  in  selecting  their  re- 
spective stations;  the  Indian  warrior  allotted  to 
them  was  placed  between  them;  Monsieur  Per- 
rot, safely  ensconced  behind  the  fallen  trunk  of 
an  alder,  was  to  load  his  master's  rifle,  and 
when  discharged,  to  replace  it  by  another;  and. 
the  defenders  of  the  camp  were  all  instructed 
not  to  fire  until  their  enemies  were  so  near  as  to 
a.Tord  a  certain  aim. 

The  side  on  which  Reginald  was  stationed 
was  the  most  open  to  attack,  from  its  being  ad- 
jacent to  the  brook  that  flowed  through  the  cen- 
tre of  the  valley,  the  banks  of  which,  being  dot- 
ted here  and  there  with  alder-bushes,  afforded 
an  occasional  covert  to  an  approachinr  pnemy. 
Nearly  an  hour  had  elapsed,  and  Regmald  began 
to  suspect  that  they  had  mistaken  the  i'Ueitions 
of  the  Upsaroka,  when  Baptiste  pointed  in  si- 
lence towards  the  prairie,  and  on  following  with 
his  eye  the  direction  of  his  companions;  finger, 
he  saw  a  dusky  object  in  motion.  Looking 
steadily  forward,  each  with  his  finger  on  'Up  trig- 
ger of  his  rifle,  Reginald  and  BaptiEi'-  rould 
now  distinguish  the  figures  of  several  tndians, 
creeping  along  the  ground  towards  the  thicket. 
On  a  sudden  the  report  of  Atto's  rifle  in  the  op- 
posite quarter  was  heard,  and  the  creeping  fig- 
ures starting  up,  advanced  with  shouts  and 
yells,  vainly  hoping  that  the  spot,  which  they 
had  selected  for  attack,  was  defenceless.  When 
they  were  within  a  few  paces,  Reginald  and 
Baptiste  fired  at  once,  and  the  two  leading  In- 
dians fell;  most  of  their  companions  retired  in 
dismay,  one  only  sprung  forward  with  desperate 
courage,  and  his  evil  destiny  bringing  him  close 
past  the  log,  behind  which  the  Guide  was  post- 
ed, the  latter  cleft  the  skull  of  the  unfortunate 
savage  with  his  tremendous  hatchet. 

Maddened  by  disappointment,  and  by  the  loss 
of  several  of  their  comrades,  the  Crows  let  fly  a 
shower  of  arrows,  at  the  edge  of  the  thicket, 
and  retreated  on  all  sides,  filling  the  air  with 
their  cries  and  yells.  Reginald,  having  crossed 
over  to  visit  Atto  at  his  post,  found  that  the  Del- 
aware had  not  fired  in  vain,  for  a  reeking  scalp 
already  hung  at  his  belt,  and  it  appeared  thai 
the  enemy  had  retired  on  this  side  also,  as  soon 
as  they  found  themselves  exposed  to  the  murder- 
ous fire  of  unseen  marksmen. 

Not  long  afler  this  unsuccessful  attack  on  the 
part  of  the  Upsarokas,  day  broke,  and  having 
mounted  their  horses,  which  had  been  left  at 
some  distance,  they  returned  towards  the  en- 
campment; and  galloping  to  and  fro,  endeav- 
oured, by  every  kind  of  insulting  gesticulation, 
to  induce  their  cautious  enemies  to  ccme  forth, 
or  at  least  to  exhaup*.  their  ammunition  by  firing 


118 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


at  random ;  but  Reginald's  party  kept  close  with- 
n  their  covert,  taking  no  notice  whatever  of 
these  bravadoes,  although  several  of  the  horse- 
men came  within  a  distance  which  would  have 
rendered  them  an  easy  mark  for  the  Guide's 
unerring  rifle;  their  insolence  produced  only  a 
grim  smile  on  his  weather-beaten  countenance, 
as  he  whispered  to  Reginald, 

"  They  are  somewhat  out  of  their  reckoning 
as  to  the  'Doctor's'  range;  poor  devils,  if  they'll 
only  keep  off,  I  don't  want  to  hurt  any  more  of 
them  !  But  if  that  long-haired  fellow,  capering 
on  a  brown  horse,  were  a  Dahcotah,  I'd  make  a 
hole  in  his  hunting-shirt  before  he  was  many 
minutes  older." 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  in  a  merciful  humour. 
Baptiste,"  replied  the  young  man ;  "  I  too  woulu 
willingly  avoid  farther  slaughter  of  these  Crows, 
and  while  fighting  with  them  we  are  losing  time 
more  precious  to  me  than  gold." 

As  he  was  yet  speaking,  his  attention  was 
caught  by  the  sound  of  a  scuffle  within  the 
thicket,  followed  by  a  shout,  and  immediately 
afterwards  Atto  and  another  Delaware  came  for- 
ward, dragging  wiih  them  a  Crow,  whom  the 
quick  eye  of  the  former  had  delected  lurking  un- 
der the  dense  foliage  of  an  alder-bush. 

"Whom  have  you  herel"  exclaimed  Regi- 
nald; "and  where  did  you  find  himl" 

"Upsaroka,"  replied  Atto;  "he  must  have 
crept  like  a  snake  undei  the  grass,  for  the  Dela- 
wares  are  not  blind,  yet  he  is  here." 

The  prisoner  was  a  tali,  bold-looking  youth, 
and  he  seemed  resolutely  prepared  to  meet  the 
fate  which  a  spy  and  an  enemy  must  expect  in 
that  wild  region. 

"  'Tis  a  fine  lad,"  said  Baptiste,  dryly,  "and 
he  has  given  us  a  lesson  to  ki  ep  a  better  look 
out;  'tis  clear  that  he  has  crept  down  the  brook, 
while  we  have  been  watching  those  galloping 
thieves:  tie  the  rogue's  hands,  my  friend  Atio, 
and  let  us  scour  the  thicket  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  Two  or  three  such  as  him  within  the 
camp,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  would  be  apt  to 
interfere  with  our  rest." 

The  prisoner  having  been  bound,  Atto  pro- 
ceeded with  two  of  his  warriors  to  search  every 
corner  of  the  thicket,  while  Baptiste,  with  the 
remainder,  watched  the  various  parties  of  horse- 
men who  were  ^^till  hovering  at  a  distnnce. 

Reginald  was  left  for  a  few  minutes  alone 
with  the  youth,  whom  he  looked  at  with  mingled 
compassion  and  admiration,  for  it  was  clear  that 
he  had  devoted  his  own  life  to  obtain  a  triumph 
for  his  tribe,  and  although  he  had  not  the  ex- 
pressive intellectual  beauty  of  Wingcnund,  nor 
the  heroic  stamp  of  form  and  feature  by  which 
War-Eagle  was  distinguished,  yet  there  was  a 
certain  wild  fierceness  in  his  eye  betokening  a 
spirit,  that  awakened  a  feeling  of  sympathy  in 
Reginald's  breast.  While  looking  steadfastly 
on  the  youth  under  the  influence  of  these  feel- 
ings, he  observed  that  the  Delawares,  in  their 
Imrried  anxiety  to  secure  the  prisoner,  had 
bound  the  thongs  so  tightly  round  his  arms  as  to 
cause  a  stoppage  of  the  blood,  the  veins  around 
the  ligature  being  already  swollen  to  a  painful 

With  the  unhesitating  generosity  of  his  na- 
ture, Reginald  stepped  forward,  and  loosening 
the  thong,  left  the  youth  at  liberty  ;  at  the  same 
time  he  smiled,  and  pointing  to  the  knife  in  his 
belt,  made  the  sign  of  "No,"  intimating  that  he 
8.aould  not  repay  this  benefit  by  using  that 
weapon. 


The  quick-sighted  savage  understood  him  as 
plainly  as  if  the  hint  had  been  given  in  his  own 
language,  for  he  instantly  detached  the  knife 
from  his  belt  and  presented  it  to  Reginald. 
There  was  so  much  natural  dignity  and  sincer- 
ity in  his  manner  while  doing  so,  that  our  hero 
in  receiving  his  weapon,  gave  him  in  exchange 
a  spare  knife  that  hung  in  his  own  belt,  making 
at  the  same  time  the  Indian  sign  for  friendship. 

The  nerves  which  were  strung  to  endure  ex- 
pected torture  and  a  lingering  death,  were  not 
prepared  for  this  unlooked-for  clemency ;  the 
youth  spoke  a  few  soft  words  in  his  own  icngue, 
looking  earnestly  in  Reginald's  face,  and  had 
not  yet  recovered  his  self-possession,  when  Atto 
returned  with  his  companions,  to  report  that  the 
prisoner  must  have  come  upon  this  dangerous 
war-path  alone,  as  no  other  of  his  tribe  was  lurk- 
ing iH  or  near  the  thicket. 

"Atto,"  said  Reginald,  addressing  the  Dela- 
ware, "this  youth  belongs  by  right  to  the  hand 
that  took  him,  he  is  yours;  1  ask  you  to  give 
him  to  me,  to  do  with  him  as  I  like." 

"  The  hand  and  the  heart  of  Atto  are  both 
open  to  Netis;  he  is  brother  to  the  war-chief  of 
the  Lenape — Atto  is  glad  to  give  him  what  he 
asks." 

"Atto  is  a  brave  man,"  replied  Reginald, 
"  and  worthy  of  his  race ;  he  can  see  that  this 
youth  is  on  his  first  war-path ;  he  came  to  the 
camp  to  make  himself  a  name;  if  the  quick 
eye  of  Atto  had  not  found  him,  there  wouid 
have  been  a  war-cry  in  the  night — is  it  not  so, 
brothers  1" 

The  Delawares  gave  their  usual  exclamation 
of  assent. 

"Brothers,"  continued  Reginald,  "Atto  has 
given  this  youth  to  me — I  thank  him:  the  hand 
of  Netis  is  not  shut,  it  holds  a  collar  which  hung 
upon  the  neck  of  a  great  warrior,  it  will  not  be 
ashamed  to  hang  on  the  neck  of  Atto." 

As  he  said  this,  he  threw  over  the  neck  of  the 
Delaware  the  magnificent  bear-claw  collar  which 
adorned  his  own.  This  was  perhaps  the  hap- 
piest moment  of  Atto's  life,  for  such  a  collar 
could  be  worn  only  by  braves  of  the  highest 
rank  in  Indian  Aristocracy,  and  the  acclamation 
with  which  his  comrades  hailed  the  presentation 
of  the  gift,  assured  Reginald  that  it  had  been 
neither  unwisely  nor  unworthily  bestowed. 

The  latter  then  turned  towards  the  prisoner, 
and  made  him  a  sign  to  follow  towards  the  out- 
er edge  of  the  thicket,  in  the  direction  where 
Baptiste  and  he  had  shot  the  two  Indians  who 
led  the  attack;  their  bodies  still, lay  where  they 
fell ;  the  youth  gazed  upon  them  with  stern  com- 
posure. Reginald  inquired  by  a  sign  if  he  knew 
them;  he  replied  in  the  affirmative;  and  he  add- 
ed,  pointing  to  the  nearest  of  the  two,  a  sigu 
which  Reginald  did  not  comprehend;  he  turned 
to  Atto  for  an  explanation. 

"  He  says,"  replied  the  Delaware,  "  that  was 
his  father." 

Reginald,  much  affected,  placed  the  youth's 
hand  against  his  own  breast  in  token  of  regard, 
and  made  him  understand  that  he  was  f-ee  to 
go  himself,  and  to  remove  the  b'odies  wilh(  ut  in- 
terruption. 

The  young  Crow  replied  by  a  look  o(  srati 
tude  too  expressive  to  require  the  interpretation 
of  language,  and  moving  towards  the  body  of  his 
father,  bore  it  into  the  midst  of  his  wondering 
ccir.par.icns,  whu  iccci^cd  him  wi'Ji  repeated 
wailings  and  cries;  none,  however,  seemed  dis- 
posed to  believe  in  his  assurance  that  (hey  a;ight 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


119 


lake  away  the  other  body  likewise;  he  was 
obliged  to  return  himself,  and  then  one  of  his 
tribe,  seeing  that  he  stood  uninjured  beside  it, 
came  out  from  their  ranks  and  assisted  him  to 
bear  it  off. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

In  ineipected  Meeting. — Reynold  prepares  to  follow  the 
TraU. 

For  two  days  the  band  of  C  ro  ws  hovered  round 
the  encampment,  sometimes  showing  themselves 
on  the  adjacent  heights,  at  others  drawing  off  to 
a  distance,  in  hopes  of  enticing  some  of  Regi- 
nald's party  to  venture  into  the  open  country; 
but,  although  he  himself  chafed  and  fretted  like 
an  impatient  steed,  he  was  sensible  of  the  risk 
that  must  attend  any  error  or  imprudence  while 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  an  enemy  so  crafty  and 
BO  strong  in  numbers,  and  he  never  permitted  the 
watchfulness  of  his  little  garrison  to  be  relaxed 
for  a  moment;  the  horses  were  driven  to  feed 
under  the  guard  of  two  armed  Delaware?,  and 
were  not  sent  to  a  distance  whence  their  return 
could  be  intercepted,  and  the  watches  were  reg- 
ularly set  and  relieved  during  the  whole  night. 
On  the  third  day  the  Crows,  finding  that  all 
their  endeavours  to  draw  their  cautious  enemy 
from  the  covert  were  vain,  held  a  council  of  war, 
after  which  three  or  four  of  their  principal  chiefs 
approached  the  encampment,  making,  as  they 
advanced,  signs  of  amity  and  truce.  Reginald 
went  out  to  meet  them,  accompanied  by  Baptiste 
and  Aftcv  leaving  orders  with  the  remainder  of 
his  party  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  against 
any  attempt  at  treachery.  Halting  at  a  spot  not 
more  than  eighty  yards  from  the  wood,  he 
awaited  the  Crow  leaders,  who  came  forward  to 
meet  him  without  any  apparent  suspicion  or 
treacherous  design. 

They  had  taken  the  precaution  to  bring  with 
them  the  youth  to  whom  Reginald  had  already 
shown  kindness,  and  whose  presence  they  rightly 
conjectured  would  facilitate  the  amicable  nature 
of  their  mission. 

Reginald  acknowledged  with  a  smile  the 
friendly  greeting  of  his  young  protege,  and  then, 
drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  awaited  in 
silence  the  opening  of  the  parley. 

The  Crow  partisan*  first  glanced  his  keen  eye 
over  the  persons  of  those  whom  he  was  about  to 
address,  as  if  scanning  them  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  tlieir  qualities  and  character,  and 
whether  he  should  best  succeed  by  endeavouring 
to  circumvent  or  to  overawe  tnem.  Keen  as 
he  was,  his  penetration  was  nere  at  fault,  for 
although  no  three  persons  foux.  be  more  dis- 
similar than  those  before  ai-m,  vet.  whether  taken 
collectively  or  severally  taev  looked  iike  men 
who  would  not  be  easily  overreached;  his  eye 
first  rested  on  the  spare,  sin'-  i,y  Irame  and  im- 
penetrable countenance  of  Atto,  thence  it  glanced 
to  the  muscular  frame  and  shrewd  hard  features 
of  the  Guide,  and  turning  from  them,  it  found  but 
ILule  encouragement  in  the  bright  bold  eye  and 
Cf:;mmanding  form  of  Reginald  Brandon. 

Perceiving,  with  the  intuitive  sagacity  of  an 
Indian,  that  the  latter  was  the  leader  of  his  party, 
the  partisan  opened  the  parley  by  pointing  his 
fore-linger  at  Reginald,  and  then  pressing  the 


'  In  the  travels  of  Major  Long,  and  others,  who  have  de- 
icribed  (he  Indians  of  the  far-western  prairies,  the  '■  brave" 
who  leads  a  war-party  is  usually  designated  a  "  partisan." 


closed  fingers  against  his  own  breast ;  ht  then 
pointed  to  himself  with  the  same  finger,  and 
afterwards  stretching  both  arms  horizontally, 
moved  them  up  and  down  with  a  vibrating  mo- 
tion, concluding  his  pantomime  by  again  raising 
the  fore-finger  of  his  right  hand  vertically  to  the 
height  of  his  forehead.  Reginald,  who  could 
not  understand  these  gestures,  turned  to  Attd, 
saying,  "Does  my  brother  know  what  the  stran- 
ger speaks  1    If  so,  let  him  explain." 

"He  says,"  replied  the  Delaware,  "that  he 
wishes  to  be  friends  with  you;  and  he  tells  3'ou, 
by  the  last  signs,  that  he  is  an  Upsaroka  and  a 
chief."* 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Reginald,  "that  if  his  heart 
is  true,  and  his  tongue  not  forked,  we  also  wish 
to  be  friends  with  him  and  his  people." 

The  Crow  replied  by  making  the  conventional 
sign  for  "Good,"  adding  to  it  that  for  "  Truth." 
On  this  being  explained  to  Reginald,  the  latter 
desired  Baptiste  to  bring  from  the  camp  some 
tobacco,  a  pipe,  and  a  iew  trinkets  for  distribu- 
tion among  the  Crows.  On  the  return  of  the 
Guide,  the  whole  party  took  their  seats,  Regi- 
nald placing  the  partisan  on  his  right,  and  the 
young  prisoner  whom  he  had  released  on  his 
left.  After  the  pipe  had  been  smoked  with  due 
gravity  and  decorum,  he  divided  among  his 
guest.s  some  beads  and  other  fanciful  ornaments, 
according  to  their  rank,  with  which  they  seemed 
highly  delighted;  the  chief  in  particular  testified 
his  satisfaction  by  repeated  gesticulations  of 
friendship  and  affection  towards  his  white  broth- 
er, whom  he  invited  to  go  and  feast  with  him 
and  his  braves.  This  invitation  Reginald  begged 
leave  to  decline,  but  he  desired  Atto  to  explain  to 
his  guest  that  he  would  visit  him  on  some  other 
occasion. 

While  these  civilities  were  passing  between 
the  respective  parties,  a  great  commotion  was 
observed  among  the  Crows  stationed  on  the 
neighbouring  hill,  some  of  whom  were  seen  gal- 
loping to  and  fro,  as  if  communicating  some 
unexpected  intelligence.  The  partisan  arose 
and  took  his  leave  with  courteous  dignity,  ex- 
plaining by  signs  that  he  wished  to  ascertain 
what  was  passing  among  his  people. 

As  he  withdrew,  the  youth,  whose  life  Regi- 
nald had  spared,  turned  his  head  and  gave  the 
latter  a  look  which  he  understood  to  convey  a 
warning,  but  it  was  so  rapid  that  he  could  not 
feel  assured  that  he  had  rightly  construed  its 
meaning.  Reginald  remained  for  some  time  on 
the  spot  watching  the  motions  of  the  Crows,  who 
had  now  gathered  in  their  scattered  horsemen, 
and  were  evidently  awaiting  with  some  impa- 
tience the  return  of  their  chief.  Reginald's  eye 
was  still  fixed  upon  them,  when  Atto,  pointing 
to  the  eastward,  whispered,  "Men  are  coming!" 
Turning  his  head  in  the  direction  indicated, 
Reginald  thought  he  perceived  a  moving  object 
in  the  distance. 

"  I  see  something  in  that  quarter,  but  not  dis- 
tinctly;  are  you  sure  it  is  a  party  of  men  V 
"  Sure."  I 

"  Mounted,  or  on  foot  V 


*  It  has  before  been  mentioned,  that  among  tho  nwing 
tribes  of  the  grea'  Missourian  wilderness  every  one  ais  it> 
distinctive  nationa.  ''gn  ;  these  are  well  known  .0  each 
other,  and  to  white  m^.  who  are  experienced  in  tho  -fe  of 
the  far-west ;  the  sign  me.  'ioned  in  the  text  is  that  adjpted 
by  the  Upsarokas,  as  they  intend  by  the  motion  of  their  ex 
tended  arms  to  imitate  that  of  the  win^s  of  a  crow  in  flight. 
The  Sioux,  Blackfeet,  Pawnees,  Snakes,  Aricaras,  Comin- 
ches,  &c.,  have  all  their  distinctive  national  signs  :  but  so 
enumeration  of  them  would  be  tedious  and  out  of  place  here 


120 


THE    P  R  A  I  R  I  E  -  B  I  R  D. 


"Both,"  replied  the  Delaware,  without  re- 
moving his  bright  keen  eye  I'rom  the  object. 
"They  are  upon  our  trail,"  he  added;  "if  they 
are  not  friends,  we  had  belter  return  to  the  camp." 

Mt  anwhile  Reginald  unslung  his  telescope, 
and  having  at  lengtli  brouglit  it  to  bear  upon  the 
aivancing  party,  he  e.Kclaimed, 

"By  Heaven  !  there  are  white  men  as  well  as 
lalians  there,  horses,  and  loaded  mules!" 

"  Ilow  manyl"  inquired  Baptiste. 

"  1'hey  seem  to  me  to  be  fifteen  or  twenty 
strong.  Should  their  intentions  appear  suspi- 
cious, we  are  near  enough  to  retire  into  our 
camp;  if  they  are  friends,  they  will  soon  see  us, 
and  approach  without  fear  or  hesitation." 

The  Guide  shook  his  head  as  if  distrusting  all 
new  comers  in  that  remote  region  ;  but  they  were 
within  rille-shot  of  the  covert,  and  could,  if  ne- 
cessary, retire  thither  under  the  protection  of  the 
fire  of  those  within  it. 

The  Crows  still  hovered  upon  the  summit  of 
the  adjoining  hill,  and  several  minutes  of  breath- 
less interest  elapsed  ere  the  approaching  band 
emerged  from  a  hollow  upon  a  point  of  the  val- 
ley, where  they  were  now  clearly  distinguish- 
able, and  proved  to  be,  as  Reginald  had  said,  a 
mixed  party  of  Indians  and  white  men. 

He  was  not  aware  that  among  the  latter  was 
a  telescope  as  good,  and  a  horseman  whose  eye 
was  more  practised  in  the  use  of  it  than  his  own  ; 
that  horseman  galloped  out  in  front  of  his  band 
and  advanced  at  lull  speed  to  the  spot  where 
Reginald  stood,  and  almost  before  the  latter 
could  rightly  use  his  faculties  of  sight  or  speech, 
that  horseman  flung  himself  from  his  horse,  and 
Reginald  was  in  the  arms  of  Ethelston. 

There  is  nothing  that  stirs  the  heart  to  its  very 
depths,  more  than  the  meeting  a  friend  after  a 
long  separation;  not  such  a  friend  as  is  found  in 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  worldly  society,  but 
a  friend  whom  we  really  esteem  and  love,  a 
friend  whom  we  have  learned  to  cherish  in  our 
bosom's  core — tliis  must  have  been  felt  by  all 
(alas!  they  are  not  very  many),  who  have  de- 
served and  obtained  such  a  blessing  in  life.  How, 
then,  must  these  stirrings  of  the  heart  be  increas- 
ed if  such  a  friend  comes  to  our  aid  and  comfort 
when  we  thougiit  him  thousands  of  miles  distant, 
when  we  are  in  anxiety  and  peril,  when  he  brings 
U3  the  latest  tidings  of  our  home!  We  will  not 
attempt  to  describe  the  meeting  of  the  two  long- 
separated  and  loving  friends  under  such  circum- 
stances, nor  to  relate  one  hundredth  part  of  the 
inquiries  which  each  had  to  make  and  to  reply  to. 

The  reader  is  already  in  possession  of  the  in- 
formation which  they  had  to  communicate  to 
each  other,  and  can  easily  understand  how  Ethel- 
ston and  his  party,  guided  by  tiie  young  Dela- 
ware, had  followed  the  trail  on  which  they  liad 
been  preceded  by  the  ban<ls  of  Mahega  and  of 
Reginald:  the  latter  greeted  with  cordial  pleas- 
Drs  Paul  Miiller,  who  now  advanced  to  offar 
him  his  friendly  salutation,  while  Pierre,  Bap- 
tiste, and  Bearskin,  who  had  weathered  many 
a  stormy  day  by  flood  and  field  together,  inter- 
changed the  grasp  of  their  horny  hands  with  un- 
^"disguised  satisfaction. 
'••  In  the  meeting  between  the  two  bands  of  the 

^a,wares,  there  was  less  demonstration,  but  it 

be  doubted  whether  there  "  -^s  less  excite- 

voifent,  as  the  last  comers  nar'  „.ei  to  their  com- 

l^des  the  bloody  vengeance  vvhich  they  had  taken 

on  some  of  their  foes,  and  dilated  upon  that  which 

they  anticipated  in  pursuit  of  Mahega. 

Ethelston  s  party  being  provided  with  some 


coffee,  sugar,  biscuits,  and  other  luxuries,  whicA 
had  been  long  strange  to  lieginald's  camp,  the 
evening  of  their  arrival  was  devoted  to  a  great 
merry-making,  Monsieur  Perrot  undertaking  the 
office  of  chief  cook,  and  master  of  the  ceremo- 
nies, both  of  which  he  executed  with  so  much 
skill  and  good-humour  as  to  win  the  favour  of 
all  present.  In  the  midst  of  the  feasting,  the  se- 
curity of  the  encampment  was  never  endangered 
by  the  omission  of  due  precautions,  for  the  horses 
were  driven  in  and  the  sentries  posted,  as  on  the 
preceding  night,  Reginald  being  well  aware  of 
the  treacherous  character  of  his  Crow  neigh- 
bours, and  his  suspicions  aroused  by  the  slight 
but  significant  look  given  to  him  at  parting  by 
the  youth  whose  life  he  had  spared. 

While  they  were  seated  round  a  blazing  fire 
enjoying  the  good  cheer  which  Perrot  had  pro- 
vided, Pierre,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  bear-claw 
collar  worn  by  AttO,  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  and,  springing  from  his  seat,  went  tp 
examine  it  closer;  having  done  so,  he  pranounced 
slowly  and  with  emphasis  a  name  as  long  as  a 
Sanscrit  patronymic. 

"  What  does  that  mean,  Pierre  V  inquired 
Ethelston,  who  had  found  in  the  latter  a  guide 
of  great  shrewdness  and  experience. 

"  It  is  the  name  of  the  Upsaroka  to  whom  that 
collar  belonged,  in  our  tongue,  '  The  man  whose 
path  is  red.'  I  saw  it  upon  his  neck  last  year, 
when  I  was  at  the  post  near  the  Upper  Forks. 
He  came  to  trade  with  us  for  a  few  l<nives  and 
blankets — he  was  a  great  war-chief,  and  had 
killed  more  Black-feet  than  any  man  in  his 
tribe." 

"  Well,  Pierre,  his  own  turn  is  come  now;  ha 
will  kill  no  more  Black-feet  nor  white  men 
either,"  said  Baptiste  to  his  comrade. 

"  Did  yonder  Lenape  kill  him,  and  in  fail 
fight,  man  to  man  1" 

"  He  was  killed  in  fair  fight,  man  to  man ;  not 
by  Atto,  but  by  a  young  war-chief  whom  the 
Lenape  call  Netis,"  replied  the  Guide. 

Pierre  fixed  his  quick  grey  eye  upon  the  ath- 
letic figure  of  Reginald  Brandon,  who  coloured 
slightly  as  he  encountered  at  the  same  time  the 
glance  of  Paul  Miiller. 

"It  is  true,"  he  saiil,  "  I  had  foolishly  separa- 
ted myself  fiom  the  rest  of  my  party,  I  was  in- 
tercepted in  attempting  to  return,  and  only  esca- 
ped paying  the  penally  of  my  carelessness  by  the 
speed  of  my  horse.  I'he  Crow  chief  was  better 
mounted  than  the  rest  of  his  tribe,  and  as  soon 
as  I  paused  to  breathe  my  horse,  he  attacked  and 
slightly  wcunded  me;  in  defending  myself,  I 
killed  him." 

"  My  son,"  observed  the  Missionary,  "  he  died 
as  he  had  lived,  reckless  and  brave;  it  rejoices 
me  to  hear  you  speak  of  the  deed  as  one  of  ne- 
cessity and  self-preservaiion." 

"I  know  not,"  muttered  Pierre,  "whathecalls 
necessity,  but  it's  a  fine  feather  in  the  youth's 
cap,  and  our  Delawares  shall  know  it  too." 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  the 
character  of  this  man,  was  the  facility  with  which 
he  acquired  the  habits  and  languages  of  the  dif- 
ferent tribes,  among  whom  his  roving  life  had 
thrown  him ;  moreover,  he  had  the  faculty  of  to- 
membering  with  unerring  certainty,  any  fai.;e,  or 
spot,  or  tree,  or  path  that  he  had  once  leefljsp 
that  his  services  as  guide  and  interpn?ter.were 
highly  valued;  and  as  Pierre,  though  a  good- 
humoured  fellow,  was  shrewd  enough  in  matter-^ 
of  business,  he  usually  exacted,  and  had  no  di'"- 
ficulty  in  obtaining  a  liberal  remuneration  fro» 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIR© 


131 


the  rival  leaders  of  the  fur-trade  companies;  he 
was  tolerably  well  versed  in  the  language  ol'the 
Crows  and  ttie  Black-feet,  the  two  great  nations 
inhabiiing  the  vast  region  between  the  upoer 
waters  of  the  rivers  Platte  and  Missouri ;  and 
there  were  few  of  the  roving  tribes  upon  either 
bank  of  the  latter,  among  whom  he  could  not 
make  himself  understood.  As  an  interpreter,  he 
dealt  fairly  by  his  employer,  although  he  hated 
the  Black-feet,  in  consequence  of  a  warrior  of 
that  tribe  having  carried  olf  an  Indian  belle  to 
whom  Pierre  was  paying  his  addresses.  This 
offence  he  had  never  forgiven,  and  it  gave  him 
in  all  subsequent  transactions  a  natural  leaning 
towards  the  Crows,  the  mortal  and  hereditary 
foes  of  his  successful  rival's  tribe. 

While  Pierre  related  in  an  under  tone,  to  those 
Dela  wares  of  his  party  who  did  not  understand 
English,  the  victory  obtained  over  the  great  war- 
chief  of  the  Crows,  by  Reginald  Brandon,  the 
latter  kept  up  a  long  and  interesting  conversa- 
tion with  Ethelston,  whom  he  found  already  in- 
formed by  the  Missionary  of  his  engagement  to 
Prairie-bird. 

On  this  subject  Reginald,  who  knew  the  pru- 
dence of  his  friend's  usual  character,  scarcely 
expected  his  sympathy  or  concurrence  :  he  was, 
therefore,  the  more  agreeably  surprised,  when  he 
found  him  disposed  to  enter  into  all  his  plans  for 
the  recovery  of  his  betrothed,  with  a  zeal  and 
enthusiasm  almost  equal  to  his  own. 

"  The  good  Missionary,"  said  Ethelston,  "  has 
told  me  much  of  the  early  lile,  as  well  as  of  the 
character  and  qualities  of  Prairie-bird.  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  deeply  she  has  engaged  my  interest, 
my  own  feelings  towards  your  sister  render  me 
capable  of  appreciating  yours,  and  I  pledge  you 
my  faith,  dear  Reginald,  that  I  will  spare  neither 
toil  nor  exertion,  nor,  life  itself,  to  aid  you  in  this  ' 
precious  search." 

Reginald  grasped  his  hand — there  was  no  need 
of  words  of  gratitude  between  them — and  ere 
long  both  turned  to  consult  with  Paul  Miiller,  as 
to  their  further  proceedings.  After  due  deliber- 
ation, they  agreed  that  on  the  following  morning 
they  should  pursue  the  trail,  regardless  of  their 
Crow  neighbours,  whom  they  had  now  little 
cause  to  fear,  and  that  previous  to  starling  they 
would  hold  a  council,  at  which  Reginald  should 
propose  the  distribution  of  their  respective  posts, 
on  the  line  of  march,  in  the  event  of  their  wish- 
ing him  to  retain  that  of  leader. 

The  night  having  passed  without  any  alarm, 
Reginald  summoned  a  general  council  of  war 
before  daybreak ;  as  soon  as  they  were  assem- 
bled, he  told  them  through  Baptiste,  who  acted 
as  interpreter,  that  they  were  now  strong  enough 
to  pursue  the  trail,  without  fear  of  interruption 
from  the  Crows,  and  that  if  the  latter  were  fool- 
ish enough  to  make  an  attack,  they  would  soon 
have  cause  to  repent  it.  He  then  added  that 
War-Eagle,  their  chief,  being  absent  on  the  war- 

E)ath,  it  was  necessary  for  some  one  to  act  as 
eader  until  his  return,  and,  as  his  party  had 
been  joined  by  so  many  warriors  of  experience, 
he  would  gladly  place  himself  under  the  advice 
and  guidance  of  the  man  whom  they  might  se- 
lect. 

When  Baptiste  had  finished  this  speech,  the 
oldest  warrior  of  Ethelston's  party  arose  and 
said,  "  Is  it  not  true  that  War-Eagle,  when  he 
went,  appointed  Netis  leader  in  his  place  V  A 
murmur  of  assent  came  from  the  lips  of  Atto 
and  his  party.  "  Is  it  not  true,"  continued  the 
Indian,  "  that  Nelis  is  a  brave  and  skilful  war- 


rior 1 — one  who  need  not  be  silent  when  the 
braves  strike  the  war-post  1  His  heart  is  true 
to  the  Lenape,  and  he  will  tell  them  no  lies." 

"  If  the  wiiiie  men  are  content  with  Netis,  the 
Lenape  wish  no  other  leader.  I  have  spoken." 
As  the  scarred  and  weather-beaten  warrior 
resumed  his  seat,  another  and  a  general  murmur 
of  approbation  broke  from  the  Delawares;  and 
Ethelston  having  spoken  a  few  words  ot  simiJ'ar 
import  to  the  white  men,  Reginald  ibund  him- 
self by  universal  acclamation  chosen  leader  of 
the  party. 

After  modestly  thanking  them  for  their  good 
opinion,  his  first  act  was  to  appoint  Atto  as  guide 
upon  the  trail,  desiring  him  to  select  any  two 
whom  he  might  wish  to  assist  him,  in  the  event 
of  its  becoming  forked,  or  otherwise  difficult 
to  follow.  Monsieur  Perrot,  with  the  provis- 
ions, and  loaded  mules,  occupied  the  centre 
of  the  line  of  march,  in  which  comparatively 
secure  post  he  was  accompanied  by  Paul  Miil- 
ler,  the  main  body  of  the  hunters  and  the  Dela- 
wares being  distributed  before  and  behind  the 
baggage. 

For  himself  P^eginald  reserved  the  rear-guard, 
where  he  retained  Ethelston,  Baptiste,  and  a 
young  Delaware,  whom  he  might  despatch  upon 
any  emergency  to  communicate  with  the  front. 
He  also  appointed  four  of  the  best  mounted  of 
his  men,  two  on  each  side  of  his  party,  to  pro- 
tect the  flanks  against  any  sudden  attack,  Pierre 
being  sent  forward  to  render  any  assistance  to 
Atto  that  he  might  require. 

These  arrangements  being  complete,  and 
made  known  to  the  respective  parties,  they  were 
about  to  set  forth  on  their  journey  when  Atto  in- 
formed Reginald,  that  the  Crow  youth  was  com- 
ing swiftly  across  the  valley  towards  the  en- 
campment, pursued  at  a  distance  by  several 
horsemen  of  his  tribe ;  the  lad  was  riding  one  of 
the  swiftest  and  most  untamed  of  the  wild  horses 
with  which  that  region  abounds,  yet  he  had  nei- 
ther bridle  nor  saddle,  guiding  the  animal  with 
a  leather  thong,  which  he  had  thrown  round  its 
nose,  and  urging  it  to  its  utmost  speed  with  a 
bow  which  he  held  in  his  right  hand.  A  few 
minutes  brought  the  foaming  little  steed  and  its 
rider  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  where  the  latter, 
still  holding  the  leather  thong,  stood  in  silence 
before  Reginald;  his  eyes  were  literally  spark- 
ling with  indignant  rage,  and  he  did  not  even 
deign  to  look  behind  him  to  see  whether  his 
pursuers  approached ;  the  latter,  however,  did 
not  choose  to  venture  near  the  encampment, 
but  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  he  had  gained 
its  shelter,  they  gave  a  few  loud  and  discord- 
ant yells,  and  disappeared  behind  the  hill. 

The  services  of  Pierre  were  now  put  into  re- 
quisition; and  as  soon  as  the  youth  found  an 
ear  that  could  understand  his  tale,  he  told  it 
with  a  rapidity  and  vehemence,  that  showed 
the  strong  excitement  of  his  feelings  ;  the  story, 
as  interpreted  by  Pierre,  was  briefly  thus  : 

"The  youth  was  present  on  the  pieceding 
day  at  a  war-council,  where  the  Crows  propo- 
sed a  plan  for  inveigling  the  white  men  to  a 
feast,  and  then  attacking  them  unawares,  at  the 
same  time  desiring  him  to  use  the  favour  that  he 
had  found  in  their  eyes,  as  an  additional  means 
for  entrapping  them  ;  this  he  positively  refused 
to  do,  and  boldly  told  the  assembled  chiefs,  that 
their  counsels  were  wicked  and  treacherous,  and 
that  he  would  in  no  wise  aid  or  abet  therrj."  In- 
dignant at  this  remonstrance  from  a  strip. ing, 
the  partisan  had  ordered  Mm  to  be  whipped  se- 


122 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


verelywith  thongs,  and  to  be  tied  hand  and  foot; 
the  sentence  was  executed  with  the  utmost 
cruelty,  but  he  had  contrived  early  in  the  morn- 
ing to  slip  off  his  bands,  and  springing  to  his 
feet,  he  seized  the  fleetest  horse  belonging  to  the 
partisan,  and  leaping  on  its  back,  galloped  off  to 
warn  his  protector  against  the  meditated  treach- 
ery. 

The  truth  of  the  tale  required  no  confirma- 
tion, for  the  glow  of  resentment  burned  too  fierce- 
ly i.i  his  eye  to  be  dissembled,  and  the  light  cov- 
ering of  antelope  skin  which  he  had  thrown 
across  his  shoulders,  was  saturated  with  his 
blood.  Reginald's  first  natural  impulse  was  to 
punish  the  perpetrators  of  this  outrage,  but  he 
checked  it  when  he  remembered  the  magnitude 
of  the  stake  that  bound  him  to  the  trail :  "  Tell 
him,  Pierre,"  said  he,  "  that  I  thank  him  for  his 
single  tongue,  and  1  love  him  for  his  honest 
brave  heart.  Ask  him  if  there  is  anything  that 
I  can  do  lor  him," 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  3'outh  to  this  question ; 
"tell  him  that  I  have  warned  him  against  the 
forked  tongues  of  my  tribe,  because  he  gave  me 
my  life,  and  was  good  to  me,  but  I  must  not  for- 
get that  his  hand  is  red  with  my  father's  blood. 
The  day  is  very  cloudy;  the  Great  Spirit  has 
given  a  hard  task  to  the  son  of  the  fallen  chief; 
his  back  is  marked  like  the  back  of  a  slave ;  he 
has  lived  long  enough." 

The  voice  of  the  )'outh  faltered  as  he  pro- 
nounced the  last  words;  the  thong  dropped  from 
his  feeble  grasp,  and  as  he  fell  to  the  ground, 
the  wild  horse  broke  away  and  galloped  across 
the  valley.  "  He  is  dying,"  said  Reginald,  bend- 
ing over  him;  "see,  here  below  his  hunting  shirt 
is  the  broken  shaft  of  an  arrow,  which  one  of 
his  pursuers  has  shot  with  loo  true  an  aim." 
While  he  spoke  the  young  Crow  breathed  his 
est. 


— ^^^^— 
CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Shewing  how  Winjeiinnd  fared  in  the  Osage  Camp,  and 
,   the    Issue  of  the  Dilemma  in  which  Prairie-bird  was 
placed  by  Mali6ga. 

We  trust  that  the  compassionate  reader  is 
now  desirous  to  learn  something  more  of  the 
fate  of  Prairie-bird  and  her  unfortunate  brother 
Wingenund,  whom  we  left  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  the  merciless  chief  of  the  Qsages.  For 
a  long  time  after  the  latter  left  her  tent,  his  part- 
ing threat  rung  in  her  ears,  that  she  must  on  the 
morrow  give  her  consent  to  be  his  bride,  or  by 
her  refusal  consign  Wingenund  to  a  cruel  and 
lingering  death.  Her  busy  imagination  por- 
trayed in  vivid  colours  the  scene  of  torture,  and 
the  heroic  fortitude  with  which  she  knew  he 
would  endure  it,  and  as  she  turned  from  that 
picture,  the  figure  of  Reginald  Brandon  rose  to 
her  view,  as  if  upbraiding  her  with  the  violation 
of  her  plighted  troth ;  torn  by  these  contending 
struggles,  the  poor  girl  sobbed  convulsively,  an(l 
the  tears  forced  their  way  through  the  fingers 
with  which  she  in  vain  endeavoured,  either  to 
suppress  or  conceal  them.  Lila  threw  her  arms 
round  her  mistress'.^  neck,  and  strove  by  her  af- 
fectionate, yet  simple  endearments,  to  soothe  her 
grief;  for  a  long  time  they  proved  unsuccessful, 
but  when  at  last  she  whispered, 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  very  good;  he  is  strong- 
er than  Mahega,lpt  Prairie-bird  speak  with  him 
as  she  often  did  when  the  Black  Father  was 
with  her." 


"True,  Lita,"  she  replied,  looking  gratefully 
at  the  Comanche  girl  through  her  tears;  "you 
remind  me  of  what  I  ought  not  to  have  forgot- 
ten." 

The  next  moment  saw  her  prostrate  upon 
her  couch — the  book  of  comfort  in  her  hand,  and 
her  earnest  prayers  ascending  toward  Heaven. 

She  rose  from  her  devotions  with  a  calmed 
and  strenthened  spirit ;  the  first  result  of  which 
was  a  desire  to  converse  with  Wingenund,  and 
to  decide  with  him  upon  the  morrow's  fearful 
alternative. 

Mahega  willingly  consented  to  the  interview, 
justly  believing  that  it  would  rather  forward 
than  retard  his  plan  for  compelling  her  con.>ent, 
compared  with  which  the  boy's  lile  weighed  not 
a  feather  in  the  balance,  so  he  ordered  him  to  be 
conveyed  to  her  tent;  and  the  guards  who  con- 
ducted him  having  informed  her  that  if  she  un- 
bound his  hands,  he  would  be  instantly  seized 
and  removed,  they  retiree'  to  the  aperture,  await- 
ing the  termination  of  the  meeting  with  their 
habitual  listless  indifference. 

Prairie-bird  cared  not  whether  they  listened, 
as  she  spoke  to  her  young  brother  in  English,  of 
which  she  knew  that  they  understood  little  or 
nothing. 

"  Dear  Wingenund,"  she  said,  "  you  heard  the 
threat  uttered  by  that  savage,  after  he  struck 
your' 

"I  did." 

"  Is  there  no  device  or  means  by  which  we 
can  contrive  your  escape;  we  may  trust  the 
Comanche  girH" 

"  I  do  not  see  any,"  replied  the  boy,  calmly; 
"  the  eyes  of  the  Osage  chief  are  open,  the  hands 
of  his  warriors  are  many  and  ready.  It  does  not 
matter;  War-Eagle  and  Netis  will  be  here  soon, 
then  all  will  go  well." 

"  All  well !"  said  Prairie-bird,  shuddering. 
"  Know  you  not  that  to-morrow  I  must  consent 
to  be  the  wife  of  the  Osage,  or  be  the  cause  and 
the  witness  of  my  brother's  horrible  death  1" 

Wingenund  looked  at  her  with  unfeigned  sur- 
prise. 

"  The  daughter  of  Taraenund — the  Prairie- 
bird  sent  by  the  Great  Spirit,  from  an  unknown 
land,  to  dwell  among  the  lodges  of  the  Lenape 
— she  who  has  learned  all  the  wise  words  of  the 
Black  Father — she  to  become  the  wife  of  that 
wandering  wolf!  Can  my  sister's  heart  beat  to- 
wards him  V 

"  Heaven  knows  how  I  loathe  and  dread  him! 
worse  than  the  most  poisonous  snake  in  the 
prairie." 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  replied.  "And  how  ought 
a  wife  to  feel  towards  the  man  whom  she  mar- 
ries V 

"  To  feel  that  he  is  the  joy,  the  food,  the  treas- 
ure of  her  heart :  the  object  of  her  secret  thoughts 
by  day,  of  her  dreams  by  night;  that  when  she 
prays  to  Heaven  his  name  is  on  her  lips;  that 
she  loves  him  as — as — " 

"As  Prairie-bird  loves  Netis,"  said  Winge- 
nund, smiling.  The  conscious  girl  blushed  at 
the  impassioned  eagerness  into  which  her  feel- 
ings had  betrayed  her,  but  she  did  not  aiteunpt 
to  deny  her  brother's  conclusion,  and  he  con- 
tinued, more  gravely,  "Then  my  sister  cou.d 
not  be  the  wife  of  the  Osage  without  leading  a 
life  of  misery  and  falsehood.  No,  no,"  he  add- 
ed, his  bright  eye  kindling  as  he  spoke ;  "  let  to- 
morrow come;  Wingenund  is  ready;  he  will 
show  that  woU  how  the  Lenap6  die.  Let  to- 
morrow come,  anl  Mah6ga  shall  learn  tha.t 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


123 


Wingenund  despises  his  hate  as  much  as  Prai- 
rie-bird scorns  his  love.  My  sister,  I  have  spo- 
ken it.  The  deeds  of  my  fathers  are  before  my 
eyes ;  the  blood  of  the  ancient  people  is  in  my 
veins;  words  cannot  change  my  mind.  Fare- 
well !  and  when  you  see  War-Eagls  and  Netis, 
tell  them  that  the  Washashe  fire  drew  neither 
complaint  nor  cry  from  the  lips  of  Wingenund." 
As  he  spoke,  his  agonized  sister  looked  up  in 
flis  face,  and  read  but  too  plainly  the  high,  un- 
conquerable determination  legibly  stamped  upon 
its  proud,  expressive  features.  She  saw  that  the 
instinctive  leelings  of  his  race  had  triumphed 
over  all  the  gentler  impressions  which  she  and 
the  Missionary  had  endeavoured  to  implant; 
and,  knowing  that  now  she  might  as  well  at- 
tempt to  bend  a  stubborn  oak  as  to  effect  any 
change  in  his  resolution,  she  embraced  him  in 
silence,  and  suffered  the  Osage  guards  to  lead 
him  from  the  tent. 


Composing  herself  by  a  strong  effort  of  selfnj  fphia.    This  doubt  her  science  could  not  resolve, 


command.  Prairie-bird  revolved  in  her  mind 
various  schemes  for  saving  the  life  of  her  devo- 
ted brother;  one  after  another  she  considered 
and  rejected,  until  at  length  the  idea  occurred  to 
her  that  perhaps  she  might  contrive  to  work 
upon  the  superstitious  fears  of  Mahega.  With 
this  view  she  examined  carefully  all  her  slender 
stock  of  instruments  and  curiosities — the  novelty 
of  the  burning-glass  was  past,  the  ticking  of  the 
watch  given  to  her  by  Paul  Miiller,  though  it 
might  surprise  the  Osage,  could  not  be  expected 
to  alarm,  or  induce  him  to  abandon  his  deter- 
mination. Then  she  cast  her  despairing  eyes 
upon  the  few  volumes  which  formed  her  travel- 
ling library;  among  these  her  attention  was  ac- 
cidentally directed  to  the  almanac  which  the 
good  Father  had  brought  to  her  from  the  settle- 
ments, when  he  gave  her  the  watch,  and  she 
sighed  when  she  thought  how  often  she  had 
amused  herself  in  the  spring,  comparing  them 
together,  calculating  the  lapse  of  time,  and  the 
changes  of  season  which  they  severally  announ- 
ced. Her  observation  of  the  sabbaths  had  been 
most  punctual,  nor  had  it  been  interrupted  by 
the  toils  and  privations  of  the  journey,  so  she 
had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  week  or  the  day 
then  passing.  "July,"  she  exclaimed,  reading 
to  herself  half  aloud,  "  only  two  weeks  of  this 
sad  month  are  yet  past;  methinks  they  seem 
more  like  fourteen  months  than  fourteen  days! 
See  here,  too,  on  the  opposite  leaf,  prophecies 
regarding  wind  and  weather.  How  often  would 
the  dear  Father  point  these  out  to  me,  and  strive 
to  explain  the  wonderful  terms  in  which  they 
describe  the  movements  of  the  stars;  he  was 
very  patient,  but  they  were  too  hard  for  me ;  I 
am  sure  he  tried  to  make  me  understand  these 
strange  words,  'Aphelion,'  'Apogee,'  '  Perigee,' 
but,  if  he  ever  succeeded,  I  have  forgotten  it  all. 
What  is  this  notice  in  larger  letters'?  To-mor- 
row, to-morrow,  it  stands  written,  '  Total  eclipse 
of  the  sun,  visible  at  Philadelphia  9h.  42m.' — 
surely,  surely  it  will  be  visible  here  too.  I  will 
trust  to  it,  I  will  build  my  faith  upon  it,  and 
Wingenund's  life  shall  yet  be  saved."  So  say- 
ing, she  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  her 
lovely  countenance  beamed  with  re-awakened 
hope. 

Lita,  who  had  been  watching  her  mistress 
with  affectionate  solicitude,  and  listening  with 
childish  wonder  to  her  half-uttered  soliloquy, 
was  overcome  with  surprise  at  this  sudden 
change  in  her  demeanour ;  she  thought  that 
Prairie-bird  had  been  conversing  with  some  un- 


seen being,  under  which  impression  she  ap 
proached,  and  asked,  timidly, 

"  Has  Olitipa  seen  a  Good  Spirit,  and  have 
her  ears  drunk  words  of  comfort  V' 

"  Olitipa  has  received  words  of  comfort,"  re- 
plied her  mistress,  kindly;  "they  seem  to  hei 
words  from  Heaven;  she  trusts  that  she  may 
not  be  deceived;  she  will  address  her  evening 
prayer  to  the  Great  Merciful  Spirit  above,  and 
retire  to  rest,  at  least  to  such  rest  as  it  may  be 
His  will  to  give  her." 

For  many  hours  after  Prairie-bird  had  been 
stretched  upon  her  furry  couch  did  her  thoughts 
dwell  upon  the  solar  eclipse,  now  the  founda- 
tion of  her  hopes ;  she  remembered  how  the 
Missionary  had  explained  to  her  that  it  was 
visible  at  one  hour  in  one  part  of  the  earth,  at  a 
different  hour  in  another  part;  then  she  won- 
dered whether  at  the  spot  where  she  now  was  it 
would  be  seen  sooner  or  later  than  at  Philadel- 


and  it  held  her  long  in  anxious  suspense;  but 
overwearied  nature  at  length  claimed  her  rights, 
and  she  sank  into  an  unrefreshing  dreamy  slum- 
ber, in  which  the  images  of  Wingenund,  Ma- 
hega, and  Reginald  Brand:)n  were  stalking  con- 
fusedly over  an  eclipsed  and  darkened  region 
of  earth. 

Early  on  the  foliowmg  morning,  Mahega, 
who  had  resolved  not  to  lose  this  favourable  op- 
portunity  lor  working  upon  the  fears  of  Prairie- 
bird,  caused  a  pile  of  dry  branches  of  wood  to 
be  placed  round  a  tree,  which  stood  nearly  op- 
posite to  her  tent,  to  which  he  ordered  Winge- 
nund to  be  secured  with  thongs  of  bison-hide ; 
after  which  he  and  his  warriors  seated  them- 
selves in  a  semicircle  before  their  victim,  pass- 
ing the  pipe  deliberately  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
as  if  to  enjoy  his  suspense  and  terror. 

If  such  was  their  object,  it  met  with  little  suc- 
cess, for  the  young  Delaware,  in  the  brightest 
day  of  his  youth  and  freedom,  had  never  worn 
so  proud  and  lofty  an  air  as  that  which  now  sat 
enthroned  upon  his  brow. 

"  A  thousand  warriors  of  the  Lenape,  whose 
blood  is  in  my  veins,  have  gone  before  me  to 
the  happy  fields;  they  knew  not  fear,  and  I,  the 
last  of  their  children,  will  bring  no  shame  upon 
their  race.  When  I  come  they  will  say,  '  Wel- 
come, Wingenund !'  and  before  many  winters 
and  summers  are  passed,  War-Eagle  and  Netis, 
Prairie-bird  and  the  Black  Father,  will  join  me, 
and  the  blue  eyes  of  the  Lily  of  Mooshanne  will 
be  there  also,  and  we  will  dwell  in  a  land  of 
streams  and  flowers,  of  numberless  deer  and 
abundant  corn,  unvexed  by  cold,  or  want,  or 
pain." 

Such  was  the  vision  that  rose  before  the  men- 
tal eye  of  the  youth,  and  so  completely  was  he 
engrossed  by  it,  that  he  took  not  the  slightest 
notice  of  the  group  assembled  to  put  him  to  a 
slow  and  agonizing  death. 

Meanwhile  Prairie-bird  having  prayed  ear- 
nestly to  Heaven  to  support  her,  and  pardon  the 
deceit  which  she  was  about  to  practise,  dressed 
herself  with  more  than  usual  care,  and  coming 
forth  from  her  tent,  stood  before  Mahega  with  a 
dignity  of  demeanour,  to  the  effect  of  which  even 
his  fierce  and  intractable  nature  was  not  insen- 
sible. Ele  rose  not,  however,  at  her  approach, 
but  contented  himself  with  inquiring,  "  Has 
Olitipa  come  to  save  her  brother's  life,  or  to  kill 
him  1" 

"  Neither,"  replied  the  maiden  firmly ;  "  she  ia 
come  to  give  good  counsel  to  Maljgga;  let  hica 
beware  how  he  neglects  it  1" 


Ii24 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  Let  not  Olitipa's  speech  travel  in  circles," 
said  the  angry  chief.  "Mahega  has  said  that 
this  day  she  should  consent  to  be  his  wife,  or  she 
must  see  that  feeble  boy  burned  before  her  eyes, 
— ther^  are  but  two  paihs, — which  does  Olitipa 
choose  1" 

"The  feet  of  foolish  men  often  wander  where 
there  is  no  path  at  all,"  replied  Prairie-bird ;  and 
Bhe  added,  with  solemnity,  pointing  upward  to 
Heaven :  "  There  is  only  o7ie  path  and  one 
Guide,  the  Great  Spirit  who  dwells  above!" 

Those  of  the  Osages  who  were  familiar  with 
tie  Delaware  tongue  in  which  she  was  speaking, 
iOolced  at  each  other,  as  if  wondering  at  her 
words,  but  Mahega,  whose  passion  was  only  in- 
creased by  her  exceeding  beauty,  answered  ve- 
hemently, 

"  It  is  easy  for  Olitipa  to  talk  and  to  make 
chihlrcn  believe  that  her  words  are  those  of  the 
Great  Spirit — Mahega  is  not  a  child."  ^^ 

"If  he  compare  His  strength  with  that  of  thM^ 
Great  Spirit,"  said  the  maiden  boldly,  "  Mahe- 
ga's  is  less  than  the  least  finger  of  a  child.  Who 
can  tell  the  power  of  the  Great  Spirit?  The 
strong  wind  is  his  breath, — the  thunder  is  his 
voice,  the  sun  is  his  smile.  If  He  is  angry,  and 
withdraws  the  sun,  day  is  turned  into  night — 
darkness  and  fear  dwell  in  the  hearts  of  men." 

The  energy  of  her  language  and  manner  were 
not  altogether  without  their  effect  even  upon  the 
stern  nature  of  Mahega ;  nevertheless,  he  replied, 

"  These  are  but  the  notes  of  singing-birds. 
Mahega  waits  for  the  choice  of  Olitipa, — she 
becomes  his  wife,  or  the  fire  is  kindled  at  the 
feet  of  Wingenund." 

Prairie-bird  cast  an  anxious  glance  athwart 
the  blue  vault  above;  not  a  cloud  was  in  the 
sky,  and  the  sun  shone  with  the  full  brightness 
of  an  American  July.  She  would  not  yet  aban- 
don hope,  but,  making  a  strong  and  successful 
effort  to  maintain  her  composure,  she  said  in  a 
firm,  impressive  tone,  "Mahega,  let  there  be  a 
bargain  between  us;  you  seek  Olitipa  for  a  wife; 
if  it  be  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit,  she  will  sub- 
mit, and  her  brother's  life  will  be  spared;  but  if 
the  Great  Spirit  is  displeased,  and  shows  his  an- 
ger by  drawing  a  cloak  over  the  face  of  that 
bright  sun  in  the  heavens,  Mahega  will  obey  his 
will,  and  let  the  brother  of  Olitipa  go  away  un- 
hurt.    Is  Mahega  content  that  it  shall  be  soT' 

"He  is,"  replied  the  ch-ef,  "if  the  sign  be  such 
as  he,  and  the  Osage  v.'irriors  may  look  upon 
with  wonder;  not  a  m'.ri^  or  darl:  cloud." 

"  It  will  be  such  as  ;i)il  iraks  Mahega  trcm- 
bU,"  replied  the  maidij  wi^h  dignity.  "Warri- 
ors of  the  Washashc  you  havo  heaid  the  treaty. 
Before  the  sun  ha^:  reached  yon  ntstirn  peak, 
the  answer  of  the  fl.oat  Spirit  will  b';  known." 
Having  thus  spokfr,  she  withdrew  into  the  tent, 
leaving  the  Osag?;  gazing  upon  each  other  with 
undisguised  aw;  and  amazement. 

The  maiden  I'r.ew  herself  upon  her  cor.ch  in 
an  agony  of  «  spense,  greater  than  can  be  de- 
scribed !  It  vas  terrible  to  think  that  her  every 
hope  of  escp/'ing  from  the  dreadful  alternative, 
was  staked  -jpon  a  sentence  in  an  almanac,  of 
the  correct' >.*ss  of  which  she  had  not  the  slight- 
est power  to  judge.  Even  the  well-intentioned 
attempts  "i  eonsolation  made  by  her  affectionate 
Lita,  we  e  of  no  avail;  her  unhappy  mistress 
entreated  her  to  remain  at  the  door  of  the  tent, 
and  Tejnn  whatever  might  occur;  wiihin  and 
withoi'i  a  profound  stillness  reigned.  The  pris- 
oner Mood  motionless  by  the  sapling  to  wliich 
DC  wif,  bound :  Mahega  smoU^d  his  pipe  in  the 


full  confidence  of  anticipated  triumpli,  sur  ouna* 
ed  by  his  warriors,  who,  less  sceptical,  or  more 
superstitious  than  their  chief,  looked  and  Jisten- 
ed,  expecting  .some  confirmation  of  the  last  words 
of  Prairie-bird. 

Although  the  sun  could  not  be  opposite  the 
rock  which  she  had  pointed  out  for  nearly  three 
hours,  of  which  not  a  fourth  part  had  yet  elaps- 
ed, the  anxious  girl  began  to  imagine  that  hopu 
was  at  an  end.  Visions  of  future  degradation 
and  misery  shot  through  her  brain ;  she  tore 
from  her  hot  brow  the  fillet  that  confined  her 
hair,  which  floated  in  glossy  luxuriance  over 
her  shoulders.  The  reproaches  of  Reginald 
Brandon  rung  in  her  ears.  The  loathed  era- 
brace  of  Mahega  crept  over  her  shudtlering 
frame !  At  this  crisis  her  eye  fell  upon  the 
handle  of  the  sharp  knife  concealed  in  her  bo- 
som ;  she  drew  it  forth;  the  triumph  of  the  pow- 
ers of  Evil  seenjed  at  hand,  when  a  cry  of  sur- 
'prise  and  terror  from  Lita  recalled  her  wander- 
senses.  She  sprang  to  the  door;  visible 
darkness  was  spreading  over  the  scene,  and  the 
terrified  Osages  were  looking  upward  to  the  par- 
tially obscured  disk  of  the  sun,  over  the  centre 
of  which  an  opaque  circular  body  was  spread; 
a  brilliant  ring  being  left  around  its  outer  ridge.* 

Prairie-bird  gazed  upon  the  wondrous  spec- 
tacle like  one  entranced;  the  late  fearful  simg- 
gle  in  her  breast  had  given  a  supernatural  lustre 
to  her  eye;  her  frame  was  still  under  high  ner- 
vous excitement,  and  as,  with  long  hair  floating 
down  her  back,  she  pointed  with  one  hand  to 
the  eclipsed  sun,  and  with  the  other  to  Mahega, 
well  might  the  savage  imagine  that  he  saw  be- 
fore him  a  Prophetess  whose  will  the  Spirit  of 
Fire  must  obey.  Under  the  influence  of  awe 
and  dread,  which  he  strove  in  vain  to  conceal, 
he  moved  forward  and  said  to  her,  "  It  is  enough! 
let  Olitipa  speak  to  the  Great  Spirit  that  the 
light  may  come  again." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  recalled  the  mind  of 
Prairie-bird  to  a  consciousness  of  what  had 
passed.  She  answered  not,  but  with  a  gesture 
of  assent  motioned  to  him  to  withdraw,  and  sup- 
porting herself  against  one  of  the  trees  that  grew 
in  front  of  her  tent,  she  knelt  beside  it,  and  veil- 
ing her  face  in  the  redundant  tresses  of  her  hair, 
found  relief  in  a  flood  of  tears.  Overwhelmed 
by  a  sense  of  the  merciful  interposition  by  which 
she  and  her  brother  had  been  saved,  and  by  a 
feeling  of  deep  contrition  lor  the  sudden  impulse  ■ 
of  self-destruction  to  which,  in  a  moment  of 
mental  agony,  she  had  yielded,  she  thought  nei- 
ther of  the  continuance  nor  the  withdrawing  of 
the  dark  phenomenon  of  external  nature,  but  of 
the  evil  gloom  which  had  for  the  time  eclipsed 
the  light  of  grace  in  her  heart,  and  the  tears 
which  bedewed  her  cheek  were  tears  of  mingled 
penitence  and  gratitude. 

Still,  Nature  held  on  her  appointed  course; 
after  a  few  minutes  the  moon  passed  onward  in 
her  path,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun,  no  longer  in- 
tercepted, again  shed  their  brightness  over  earth 
and  sky. 

The  Osages,  attributing  these  effects  to  the 
communing  of  Prairie-bird  with  the  Great  Spirit, 


*  It  is  unnecessary  to  inform  the  reader  that  neither  the 
date  nor  the  descnption  of  this  solar  eclipse  is  intended  to 
challenge  scientific  criticism.  Merely  the  general  feature! 
are  preserved  of  that  kind  of  solar  eclipse,  which  is  term- 
ed "  annular,"  and  which  takes  place  when  the  eclipse, 
though  central,  is  not  total,  on  account  of  the  moon  not  be- 
ing near  enough  to  hide  the  whole  of  the  sun,  in  which 
case  part  of  the  latter  is  seen  as  a  bright  ring  round  th» 
Dart  hidden  by  the  moon. 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


125 


stood  in  silent  awe  as  she  arose  ^o  retire  to  her 
tent,  and  her  secret  humiliation  became,  in  their 
eyes,  her  triumph. 

Mahega,  finding  that  he  had  no  pretext  for  re- 
fusing to  release  Wiugenund,  and  that  his  war- 
riors evidently  expected  him  to  fulfil  his  prom- 
ise, ordered  the  youth  to  be  unbound;  and  in  the 
height  of  his  generosity,  desired  that  some  food 
might  be  offered  to  him,  which  Wingenund 
scornfully  rejected. 

The  Osage  chief  having  called  aside  two  of 
those  most  devoted  to  him,  spoke  to  them  a  few 
words  apart ;  and  then  addressing  his  liberated 
prisoner  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  he  said,  "The 
Osage  warriors  will  conduct  Wingenund  two 
hours  on  his  journey;  he  will  then  be  free  to  go 
where  he  likes,  but  if  he  is  again  found  skulk- 
ing round  the  Osage  camp,  nothing  shall  save 
his  life." 

Wingenund  knew  that  he  was  to  be  turned 
loose  in  a  desolate  region,  unarmed  and  half- 
starved,  but  his  proud  spirit  would  not  permit 
him  to  ask  the  slightest  boon  of  his  enemy;  and 
without  a  word  of  reply,  without  even  directing 
a  look  towards  his  sister's  tent,  he  turned  and 
followed  his  conductors. 

For  several  miles  they  pursued  the  back-foot* 
of  the  trail  by  which  they  had  come  from  the 
eastward,  Wingenund  being  placed  in  the  cen- 
tre without  weapon  of  any  kind,  and  the  two 
Osages  marching  one  before,  and  the  other  be- 
hind him,  being  well  armed  with  bow,  knife,  and 
tomahawk.  The  youth,  unconscious  that  they 
had  secret  instructions  from  Mahega  to  kill  him 
as  soon  as  they  reached  a  convenient  and  suffi- 
ciently distant  spot,  made  no  attempt  to  escape, 
but  walked  quietly  between  them,  considering 
within  himself  whether  he  should  endeavour  to 
rejoin  his  party,  or  persevere  in  hovering  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Osages  ;  if  a  suspicion  of 
Mahega's  treachery  did  cross  his  mind,  he  al- 
lowed it  not  to  influence  his  bearing,  for  he 
moved  steadily  forward,  not  even  turning  his 
head  to  watch  the  Osage  behind  him. 

About  five  or  six  miles  from  Mahega's  camp, 
the  trail  passed  along  die  edge  of  a  low  wood 
which  skirted  the  banks  of  the  same  stream  that 
flowed  through  the  upper  valley.  This  was  the 
place  where  they  proposed  to  kill  their  prisoner, 
and  hide  his  body  in  the  bushes,  the  chief  hav- 
ing commanded  that  the  murder  should  be  kept 
secret  from  the  rest  of  his  party.  They  had  just 
passed  a  thicket  on  the  side  of  the  trail,  when 
the  terrible  batile-cry  of  War-Eagle  rose  behind 
them,  and  his  tomahawk  clove  the  skull  of  the 
Osage  in  the  rear.  Q,uick  as  thought,  Winge- 
nund sprang  upon  the  one  in  front,  and  pinion- 
ed his  arms ;  the  Osage  tried  in  vain  to  disen- 
gage them  from  the  grasp  of  his  light  and  active 
opponent.  Brief  was  the  struggle,  for  the  dead- 
ly weapon  of  the  Delaware  chief  descended 
again,  and  the  second  Osage  lay  a  corpse  upon 
the  trail. 

The  brothers,  having  exchanged  an  affection- 
ate but  hasty  greeting,  took  the  spoils  from  their 
enemies  according  to  Indian  fashion,  War-Eagle 
contenting  himself  with  their  scalps,  and  his 
brother  taking  such  weapons  and  articles  of 


*  When  a  trail  is  made  by  a  party  on  a  march,  the  grass 
is,  of  course,  trodden  down  in  the  same  direction  as  that  in 
i.hich  they  are  going-.  A  party  travelling  along  it  from 
the  opposite  quarter,  are  said  to  take  the  back-foot  of  the 
n^il.  The  author  heard  the  expression  used  by  an  experi- 
enced Western  hunter,  but  is  not  aware  whether  it  is  in 
common  use  ;  at  all  events  it  explains  its  own  meaning  sig- 
liificaii;ly  enough. 


dress  as  his  present  c»ndition  rendered  necessa- 
ry Ibr  his  comfort  and  defence;  after  which, 
they  threw  the  two  bodies  into  the  thicket  into 
which  the  Osages  had  intended  to  cast  that  of 
Wingenund,  and  continued  their  course  at  a 
rapid  rate  towards  the  eastward,  War-Eagle  re- 
lating as  they  went  the  events  which  had  brought 
him  so  opportunely  to  the  scene  of  action  ;  they 
were  briefly  as  follows  : 

When  he  left  his  party,  he  never  halted  nor 
slackened  his  speed  until  he  saw  the  smoke  of 
the  Osage  camp-fire  ;  concealing  himself  in  the 
adjoining  wood,  he  had  witnessed  all  the  sur- 
prising occurrences  of  the  day  ;  and  in  the  event 
of  the  Osages  actually  pitjceeding  to  set  fire  to 
the  faggots  around  Wingenund,  he  was  pre- 
pared to  rush  upon  them  alone,  and  either  res- 
cue his  brother  or  perish  with  him;  but,  with 
the  true  self-command  and  foresight  of  an  In- 
dian, he  kept  this  desperate  and  almost  hopeless 
attempt  for  the  last  chance;  and  when  to  his 
surprise  and  joy  he  saw  the  prisoner  sent  upon 
the  trail  with  a  guard  of  only  two  Osages,  he 
took  advantage  of  a  bank  of  rising  ground,  be- 
hind which  he  crept,  and  moving  swiftly  forward 
under  its  shelter,  gained  unperceived  the  thicket, 
where  he  had  so  successfully  waylaid  them. 

Fearing  a  pursuit,  the  brothers  never  abated 
their  speed  throughout  the  evening,  or  the  early 
portion  of  the  night.  A  few  hours  before  dawn, 
some  scattered  bushes  near  the  path  offering 
them  a  precarious  shelter,  they  lay  down  to 
snatch  a  short  repose ;  a  mouthful  of  dried  bison- 
meat,  which  remained  in  War-Eagles  belt,  he 
gave  to  his  exhausted  brother;  and  one  blanket 
covering  them  both,  they  slept  soundlv  and  un- 
disturbed until  the  sun  was  high  in  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Mah6ga  finds  the  Bodies  of  his  two  Followers  slain  by  VVai 
Eagle. — Some  Reflections  on  Indian  Character. — War 
Eagle  returns  to  his  Friends,  and  the  Osage  Chief  push- 
es his  Way  further  into  the  Mountains. 

Mahega  waited  anxiously  the  return  of  the 
two  men  whom  he  had  sent  with  Wingenund, 
being  desirous  to  learn  whether  they  had  faith- 
fully executed  the  treacherous  commission  with 
which  he  had  entrusted  them.  When  he  found 
that  the  evening  passed  away,  and  that  the  suc- 
cessive hours  of  the  night  brought  no  intelligence 
of  them,  he  became  alarmed  lest  th;;y  should 
have  fallen  in  with  some  hostile  band  of  Indians, 
an  occurrence  which,  in  addition  to  the  loss  of 
two  of  his  warriors,  would  threaten  imminent 
danger  to  his  whole  party. 

At  the  earliest  peep  of  dawn  he  set  out  in 
search  of  them,  accompanied  by  three  of  his  fol- 
lowers, giving  orders  to  the  remainder  to  observe 
a  strict  watch  during  his  absence.  Traversing 
the  little  valley  in  front  of  his  camp  with  hasty 
strides,  he  struck  into  the  eastward  trail,  and 
followed  it  with  unabated  speed  until  he  reached 
the  spot  where  the  deadly  struggle  of  the  prece- 
ding evening  had  arisen.  Here  the  indications 
were  too  evident  to  leave  a  moment's  doubt  upon 
his  mind  ;  the  grass  on  and  beside  the  trail  was 
stained  with  blood,  and  from  the  neighbouring 
thicket  were  heard  the  snarls  and  yells  of  a  pack 
of  wolves  quarrelling  over  their  horrible  ban- 
quet; while  high  in  air  several  buzzards  were 
wheeling  round  and  round,  as  if  endeavouring 
to  find  courage  to  descend  and  dispute  the  prey 
with  the  quadruped  spoilers. 


126 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Dashing  into  the  thicket,  and  driving  the  snarl- 
ing wolves  before  him,  Mahega  found  his  worst 
fears  realized,  and  his  horror-struclc  warriors 
stood  in  silence  beside  the  mangled  remains  of 
their  comrades.  The  conduct  of  Indians  under 
such  circumstances  is  uncertain  and  various  as 
their  mood,  their  impulse,  their  tribe,  and  their 
nge.  Sometimes  they  indulge  in  fearful  threats 
«f  vengeance  ;  sometimes  in  the  most  woful 
bowlings  and  lamentations;  at  others,  they  ob- 
serve a  silence  as  still  as  the  death  which  they 
are  contemplating. 

The  Osages,  on  this  occasion,  following  the 
example  of  their  leader,  spoke  not  a  word,  al- 
though the  sight  before  them  (far  too  horrible 
for  description)  was  sufficient  to  try  the  strong- 
est nerves ;  it  was  chiefly  by  the  immoveable 
firmness  of  his  character,  that  Mahega  had  gain- 
ed and  maintained  the  despotic  influence  which 
he  exercised  over  his  followers;  neither  did  it 
fail  him  on  this  occasion,  for  he  proceeded  to 
examine  the  mutilated  remains  of  his  deceased 
warriors  with  his  usual  coolness  and  sagacity, 
in  order  that  he  might  discover  by  whom  the 
deed  had  been  perpetrated  ;  on  a  close  inspec- 
tion of  the  skulls,  he  found  that  both  had  been 
fractured  by  a  tomahawk  blow,  which  had  fall- 
en in  a  direction  almost  vertical,  but  rather  at  a 
posterior  angle  of  inclination,  whence  he  imme- 
diately inferred  that  they  had  been  killed  by 
some  enemy  who  hid  surprised  and  attacked 
■-hem  from  behind,  ard  not  in  an  open  fight ;  af- 
jer  a  long  and  careful  observation  of  the  frac- 
lures  he  was  of  opinion  that  they  were  made  by 
the  same  weapon.  This  inference,  however,  he 
kept  to  himself,  and  directing  two  of  his  follow- 
ers to  pay  such  offii'^s  to  the  dead,  as  were  pos- 
sible under  the  circumstances,  and  then  to  return 
to  the  camp,  he  went  forward  with  the  remain- 
ing Osage,  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  calamity  had  occurred ;  he  remem- 
bered to  hive  seen  Wingenund  starting  on  the 
trail,  and  although  he  knew  him  to  be  bold  and 
active,  he  could  not  for  an  instant  entertain  the 
belief  that  a  stripling,  wearied  with  a  sleepless 
night,  stiff  from  being  so  many  hours  bound 
with  thongs,  and  totally  unprovided  with  arms, 
could  have  killed  his  two  guards,  who  were 
strong,  wary,  and  well-armed  men ! 

For  some  distance  Mahega  continued  his 
course  in  moody  silence,  the  beaten  trail  afford- 
ing no  indication  sufficient  to  guide  him  in  his 
eonjecture,  but  at  length  he  reached  a  place 
where  it  crossed  a  small  rivulet,  the  flat  banks 
of  which  were  sprinkled  with  a  kind  of  gravelly 
Band  ;  here  he  paused  and  examined  every  inch 
of  the  ground  with  the  eye  of  a  lynx,  nor  was  it 
long  before  he  detected  the  foot-prints  which  he 
sought,  a  smaller  and  a  greater,  the  latter  shew- 
ing longer  intervals  and  a  deeper  impression. 

Rising  from  his  stooping  scrutiny,  the  eyes  of 
the  chief  glared  with  fury,  as  he  turned  to  his 
follower,  and  in  a  voice  almost  inarticulate  with 
rage,  groaned  the  hated  name  of  War-Eagle. 

"  It  is,"  he  continued  vehemently,  "  plain  as 
t)ie  moon  in  the  sky,  the  trail  of  the  cursed  Le- 
«ape,  and  the  light  foot  of  his  brother;  see  here. 
War-Eagle  has  walked  through  the  water,  and 
Wingenund  has  sprung  over  it,  the  dew  has 
fallen  since  they  passed,  they  are  far  before  us — 
but  Mahega  must  not  sleep  till  their  scalps  are 
in  his  belt.  Is  Toweno  ready  1"  inquired  the 
fierce  chief,  tightening  his  girdle  while  he  loos- 
ened the  tomahawk  suspended  from  it. 

"  Toweno  is  ready,"  replied  the  Indian,  "  to 


fight  or  run  by  the  side  of  Mahega,  from  inon>«    ^ 
ing  until  night;  his  hand  is  not  weak  nor  are  his' 
leet  slow;  but  the  Great  Chief  must  not  iei  the 
angry  spirit  bring  a  cloud  before  his  eyes." 

"  Let  Toweno  speak,"  said  Mahega  control- 
ling  his  fierce  impatience,  "  his  words  will  find  a 
path  to  open  ears." 

"  War-Eagle,"  pursued  the  Osage,  "is  swift  of 
foot  and  cunning  as  a  twice-trapped  wolf  He 
is  not  come  upon  this  far  war-path  alone.  Win- 
genund has  been  prowling  round  the  camp,  and 
while  Mah6ga  follows  the  trail  of  War-Eagle, 
the  youth  may  guide  the  pale-face  warrior  called 
Netis,  with  his  band,  to  the  encampment  of  the 
Washashe.  Toweno  has  need  of  no  more 
words." 

Mahega  saw  in  a  moment  the  truth  and  force 
of  his  follower's  suggestion,  and  smothering  for 
the  moment  his  passion  for  revenge,  he  resolved 
to  return  at  once  to  his  encampment. 

"  The  counsel  of  Toweno  is  good,"  said  he; 
"  when  a  friend  speaks,  Mahega  is  not  deaf." 

Arsong  the  features  that  distinguish  the  char- 
acter of  the  North  American  Indian,  there  is 
none  more  remarkable,  none  more  worthy  the 
study  and  the  imitation  of  civilized  man,  than 
the  patience  and  impartial  candour  with  which 
they  listen  to  the  advice  or  opinion  of  others; 
although  so  prone  to  be  swayed  by  passion  and 
governed  by  impulse,  the  Indian  seems  to  have 
a  wonderful  power  of  laying  aside  these  predis- 
positions, when  discussing  a  matter  privately 
with  a  friend,  or  openly  in  council.  The  deco- 
rum with  which  all  their  public  discussions  are 
conducted,  has  been  observed  and  recorded  by 
every  writer  familiar  with  their  habits,  from  the 
time  of  Charlevoix,  and  of  the  interesting  "Let- 
tres  Edifiantes,"  to  the  present  day.  Golden, 
Tanner,  Mackenzie,  and  many  others  who  have 
described  the  Northern  tribes,  concur  in  bearing 
their  testimony  to  the  truth  of  this  observation; 
Heckewalder,  Loskiel,  Smith,  Jefferson,  confirm 
it  in  the  central  region;  and  the  Spanish  writers 
bear  frequent  witness  to  it  in  their  descriptions 
of  the  Southern  tribes,  whom  they  met  with  in 
their  campaigns  in  Florida,  and  the  adjacent 
country.  In  reading  the  account  given  of  the 
numerous  tribes  inhabiting  the  vast  region  be- 
tween the  Mississippi  and  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
by  Clarke,  Lewis,  Long,  and  others,  the  same 
observation  forces  itself  upon  us  almost  at  every 
page,  and  it  is  the  more  remarkable  M^hen  we 
reflect  upon  two  facts  —  first,  that  we  find  this 
characteristic  attributed  to  forty  or  fif^y  different 
nations  inhabiting  a  continent  larger  than  Eu- 
rope, by  the  concurring  testimony  of  travellers 
from  diflferent  countries,  and  holding  the  most 
opposite  opinions. 

Secondly,  we  do  not  find  a  similar  character- 
istic distinguishing  other  savages,  or  nomadic 
tribes  in  Asia,  Africa,  or  the  Pacific  Islands. 

There  is  not  a  public  body  in  Europe,  from 
the  British  Parliament  down  to  the  smallest 
burgh  meeting,  that  might  not  study  with  advan- 
tage the  proceedings  of  an  Indian  council, 
whether  as  described  in  the  faithful  pages  of  the 
German  missionaries,  or,  as  it  may  still  be  seen  by 
any  one  who  has  leisure  and  inclination  to  visM 
those  remote  regions,  where  the  Indian  charac- 
ter is  least  changed  and  contaminated  by  inter- 
course with  the  whites.  Such  an  observer 
would  find  his  attention  attracted  to  two  remark- 
able facts;  first,  that  no  speaker  is  ever  inter- 
rupted; and,  secondly,  that  only  those  speak 
who  from  age,  rank,  and  deeds,  are  entitled  to 
be  asiened  tc. 


i 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


127 


It  IS  a  popujar  and  plausible  reply  to  say  that 
discussions  concerning  the  complicated  business 
of  a  great  country,  cannot  be  carried  on  like  the 
unimportant  "  talks"  of  these  savage  tribes;  this 
reasoning  is  shallow  and  full  of  sophistry,  for 
many  of  the  Indian  councils  above  referred  to 
have  involved  all  the  dearest  interests  of  the  na- 
tion J  their  soil,  their  pride,  their  ancestral  tradi- 
tions, all  were  at  stake,  perhaps  all  with  little 
more  than  a  nominal  alternative,  to  be  bartered 
for  the  grasping  white  man's  beads,  whiskey, 
and  subsidies.  In  these  councils,  every  listening 
Indian  must  have  felt  that  his  own  home,  the 
lodge  built  by  his  father,  and  the  patch  of  maize 
cultivated  by  his  family,  were  dependent  on  the 
issue  of  the  negotiation,  and  yet  it  is  not  upon 
record  that  a  chief,  or  elder-brave  was  ever  in- 
terrupted in  his  speech,  or  that  the  decorum  of 
the  council  was  infringed  by  irregularity  or  tu- 

ult  on  the  part  of  those  who  might  have  con- 
haired  themselves  injured  and  aggrieved. 
q,''£  fen  in  regard  to  time,  it  is  a  great  mistake 
fb  Suppose  that  anything  is  gained  by  interrup- 
tion, for  an  obstinate  talker  will  carry  his  point 
in  the  end ;  and  although  the  persevering  excla- 
mations, and  groanings,  and  crowings  of  an  im- 
patient House  of  Commons,  may  succeed  in 
drowning  his  voice,  and  forcing  him  to  sit  down, 
he  will  rise  again  on  some  other  occasion  and 
inflict  upon  his  hearers  a  speech  whose  bulk  and 
bitterness  are  both  increased  by  the  suppressed 
fermentation  which  it  has  undergone. 

Leaving  the  moody  and  dispirited  Osage  chief 
to  find  his  way  back  to  his  encampment,  we  will 
now  return  to  Reginald  Brandon  and  his  party, 
whom  we  left  starting  westward  on  the  trail, 
marching  in  regularorder,  and  prepared,  without 
delaying  their  progress,  to  repel  any  hostile  at- 
tempt on  the  part  of  the  Crows.  The  latter 
l<«nd  seemed,  however,  so  impressed  with  the 
strength,  discipline,  and  appointments  of  the 
vhite  men's  force,  now  that  it  had  received  a 
s'Tong  reinforcement,  that  they  gave  up  all 
ptesent  intention  of  molesting  it,  and  went  off  in 
jn  opposite  direction  in  search  of  game,  horses, 
tT  booty,  where  these  might  be  acquired  with 
■•'.ss  risk  and  danger. 

Reginald  and  Ethelston  went  together  on  the 
fine  of  march;  and  although  the  spirits  of  the 
former  were  damped  by  the  recent  and  melan- 
choly fate  of  the  Crow  youth,  in  whom  he  had 
felt  much  interest,  the  buoyant  hilarity  of  his 
disposition  did  not  long  resist  his  friend's  endeav- 
ours to  banish  that  subject  from  his  thoughts, 
and  to  turn  the  conversation  to  topics  more  im- 
mediately connected  with  the  object  of  their 
present  expedition. 

Reginald  having  once  confided  to  Ethelston 
his  love  for  Prairie-bird,  found  a  pleasure  in  de- 
scribing to  him  her  beauty,  her  natural  grace, 
her  simplicity,  in  short,  all  those  charms  and  at- 
tractions which  had  carried  by  storm  the  fortress 
of  his  heart;  and  it  seemed  that  his  friend  was 
no  less  willing  to  listen  than  he  to  talk  upon  the 
subject;  repeating  question  after  question,  re- 
garding her  with  an  unwearied  intensity  of  curi- 
osity that  excited  at  length  the  surprise  of  Regi- 
nald himself. 

"Indeed,  Edward,"  he  said,  laughing,  "did  I 
not  know  that  you  are  devoted  to  a  certain  lady 
on  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum,  and  that  your 
attachments  are  reasonably  steady,  I  could  al- 
most believe  that  the  fidelity  and  eloquence  with 
which  I  have  described  Prairie-bird  had  made 
voa  fall  in  love  with  her  yourself." 


"  Perhaps  you  are  claiming  more  merit  for 
your  own  eloquence  than  is  due  to  it,"  said 
Ethelston,  in  a  similar  tone ;  "  you  forget  that 
before  1  joined  you,  Paul  Miiller  and  I  had  trav- 
elled many  hundred  miles  together;  and  it  is  a 
topic  upon  which  he  speaks  as  warmly  and  par- 
tially as  yourself." 

"  Well  he  may !"  replied  Reginald  with  ener- 
gy, "  lor  she  owes  everything  to  his  affectionate 
care  and  instruction,  in  return  for  which  she 
loves  and  venerates  him  as  if  he  were  her  fa- 
ther." 

In  such  conversation  did  the  friends  while  away 
many  weary  hours  on  the  march;  and  at  the 
midday  halt,  and  evening  camp,  they  were  join- 
ed by  the  worthy  Missionary,  who,  justly  proud 
of  his  pupil,  and  knowing  that  he  was  address- 
ing those  who  would  not  soon  be  weary  of  hear- 
ing her  praises,  told  them  many  anecdotes  of  her 
early  youth,  with  an  earnestness  and  feeling 
which  often  caused  Reginald  to  avert  his  face, 
and  Ethelston  to  shade  his  brow  thoughtfully 
with  his  hand. 

Nor  was  the  march  unenlivened  by  scenes  of 
a  merrier  kind,  for  Pierre,  Baptiste,  and  Mon- 
sieur Perrot  kept  up  a  constant  round  of  fun  and 
raillery  around  their  camp-kettle;  the  latter  con- 
tinuing to  act  as  chief  cook  for  all  the  white  men 
and  half-bred  in  the  party,  and  leaving  the  Dela- 
wares  to  dress  their  food  after  their  own  fancy. 
Provisions  were  abundant  in  the  camp,  and  Per- 
rot contrived  by  his  ingenuity  to  give  a  variety 
both  in  appearance  and  flavour  to  supplies,  which 
in  truth  consisted  of  little  more  than  parched 
maize,  biscuit,  coffee,  and  bison  meat.  He 
talked  incessantly,  and  his  lively  sallies  not  only 
amused  his  two  companions,  but  often  drew  a 
smile  from  Reginald,  in  spite  of  the  anxiety  oc- 
casioned by  the  object  of  the  expedition. 

"  Master  Baptiste,"  said  the  valet  cook,  (as 
nearly  as  his  language  may  be  rendered  into 
English,)  "methiiiks  those  great  hands  of  yours 
are  better  skilled  in  chopping  Sioux  skulls,  or 
felling  bee-trees,  than  in  the  science  of  butchery ; 
see,  here,  what  unchristian  lumps  of  meat  you 
have  brought  me  to  dress  !" 

"Were  it  not  for  these  great  hands,  as  yoi: 
call  them,"  replied  the  sturdy  Guide,  "  you,  Mas 
ter  Perrot,  with  those  fine-skinned  fingers,  would 
often  ere  this  have  seen  little  of  either  deer  or 
bison-meat  for  your  supper!" 

"  As  for  that,  I  deny  not  that  you  are  tolerably 
successful  in  hunting,  and  your  load  of  venison 
is  sometimes  brought  decently  home;  but  in  the 
cutting  up  of  a  bison,  your  education  has  been 
much  neglected." 

"It  may  be  so.  Monsieur  Perrot,"  answered 
Baptiste ;  "  I  do  not  pretend  to  much  skill  in  the 
matter,  and  yet  methinks  I  should  understand  as 
much  of  it  as  one  who  had  never  seen  a  bison  a 
month  since;  and  who  could  not  now  dress  a 
cow's  udder  half  so  well  as  an  Osage  squaw.'' 
Pierre  laughed  outright  at  his  comrade's  de- 
preciation of  Perrot's  culinary  skill,  and  the  lat- 
ter, whose  temper  was  not  a  whit  ruffled  by  this 
disparagement  of  his  talents,  inquired  with  the 
utmost  gravity, 

"  Pray,  Baptiste,  instruct  me  in  this  matter,  for 
I  doubt  not,  although  you  have  so  grievous.y 
mutilated  the  ox,  that  }'our  method  of  dressing 
the  cow's  udiier  must  be  worth  learning." 

"  Nay,"  replied  Baptiste,  "  I  will  show  yon 
that  when  we  come  among  cows  and  squawsj 
meanwhile,  I  recommend  you  to  make  yourseli 
a  spare  peruke,  as  we  may  soon  be  running  feu. 


128 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


of  those  Osages,  or  some  other  roving  Indians, 
-who  may  chance  to  carry  off  that  moveable 
B'*alp  on  live  top  of  your  head." 

This  allusion  to  Perroi's  disaster  and  narrow 
escape  among  the  Sioux,  turned  the  laugh  against 
him,  hut  he  quickly  checked  its  current  by  pla- 
cing before  his  companions  iome  buflalo  steaks, 
and  cakes  of  maize  Hour,  which  practically 
contradicted  all  that  tlicy  had  been  saying  in 
disparagement  of  the  good-humoured  French- 
man's cookery. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  second  day's  march, 
one  of  the  Delawares,  who  had  been  sent  for- 
ward to  reconnoitre,  galloped  to  the  rear  and  re- 
ported that  he  had  seen  one  or  two  men  at  great 
distance  a-head,  nearly  in  the  line  of  the  trail 
which  they  were  now  fullowing.  Reginald  im- 
mediately sprung  upon  Nekinii,  who  was  walk- 
ing like  a  pet  dog  at  his  side;  and,  accompanied 
bj'  Ethelston,  rode  forward  to  examine  the  stran- 
gers wiih  his  telescope.  The  undulations  of  the 
intervening  ground  hid  them  for  a  considerable 
time  from  his  view,  and  when  they  reappeared 
they  were  near  enough  to  be  clearly  distinguish- 
ed through  his  glass. 

"  War-Eagle,"  he  exclaimed,  "  heaven  be 
praised  !  it  is  my  brave  Indian  brother  returning 
with  young  "VVingenund.  Edward,  I  will  now 
present  to  y«u  the  noblest  creature  that  ever  yet 
1  encountered  in  human  shape.  My  feelings 
would  prompt  me  to  rush  forward  and  embrace 
him;  but  we  must  conform  ourselves  to  Indian 
usage  here,  or  we  shall  lose  the  good  opinion  of 
our  Delaware  friends." 

Reginald  had  confided  to  his  friend  all  that 
had  passed  between  himself  and  War-Eagle,  not 
even  omitting  his  unfortunate  and  long-cherished 
passion  for  Prairie-bird,  so  that  Ethelston  await- 
ed his  approach  with  no  ordinary  interest. 

As  the  Delaware  chieftain  advanced  with 
erect  front,  his  expanded  chest  thrown  slightly 
forward,  and  the  fine  symmetry  of  his  form  de- 
veloped in  every  movement  as  he  stepped  lightly 
over  the  prairie,  Ethelston  felt  that  he  had  never 
seen,  either  in  nature  or  in  the  works  of  art,  a 
finer  specimen  of  manhood;  and  when  he  wit- 
nessed the  grave  simplicity  which  mingled  with 
his  cordial  greeting  of  Reginald  Brandon,  he 
could  not  deny  that  features,  form,  and  bearing 
stamped  the  Delaware  chieftain  at  once  as  one 
of  the  lords  of  the  creation.  Neither  did  the 
gentle  gracefulness  of  the  slighter  figure  by 
whom  he  was  accompanied  escape  Eihelston's 
notice,  and  he  felt  no  difficulty  in  recognising  in 
the  interesting  features  of  the  youth,  that  Win- 
genund  of  whose  high  and  amiable  qualities  he 
had  heard  so  much  from  Reginald. 

"These  are,  indeed,"  said  Ethelston  to  him- 
self, "  worthy  descendants  of  the  Lenap6  princes, 
whose  sway  in  bygone  days  extended  over  many 
hundred  leagues  of  fertile  territory,  from  the 
Ohio  to  the  Atlantic  coast:  whose  broad  lands 
arc  now  tilled  by  the  Saxon  plough,  on  the  site 
of  whose  ancient  villages  now  stand  the  churches 
and  the  populous  streets  of  Baltimore,  and  the 
city  of  brotherly  love.  With  the  loss  of  their 
dominion,  most  of  these  once-powerful  tribes 
have  lost  the  highest  and  best  characteristics  of 
their  race ;  subdued  by  the  rifle,  corrupted  by  the 
silver,  degraded  by  the  ardent  spirits  of  the  white 
man,  they  present  but  too  often  a  spectacle  in 
which  it  is  difficult  to  recognise  any  traces  of 
the  attributes  with  which  the  narratives  of  our 
early  travellers  and  missionaries  invest  them. 
But  these  are  indeed,  features  which  a  Titian 


would  not  have  scorned  to  delineate;  these  am 
forms  which  the  pencil  of  Michael  Angelo  and 
the  chisel  of  Praxiteles  would  have  rejoiced  to 
immortalize." 

While  these  thoughts  were  rapidly  passing 
throui;h  the  mind  of  Ethelston,  the  greeting  be- 
tween Reginald  and  War-Eagle  was  exchanged; 
and  the  former  had  given  to  his  Indian  brother 
a  hasty  sketch  of  the  events  which  had  occurred 
in  his  absence,  and  of  those  which  had  led  to  the 
reinforcement  brought  by  Ethelston.  A  gleam 
of  joy  shot  athwart  the  features  of  the  Delaware, 
as  he  learned  the  vengeance  which  his  warriors 
had  tal^en  of  their  enemies;  and  his  quick  eye 
glanced  with  gratified  pride  over  the  scalps 
which  they  displayed,  and  the  magnificent  bear- 
claw  collar  dependant  from  Atto's  neck.  The 
Lenap6  braves  saw  too  that  the  tomaha\vk  of 
their  leader  had  not  slept  in  its  belt  on  hiS  soli- 
tary war-path,  for  the  scalps  of  the  two  o.iiortu 
naie  Osages  whom  he  had  slain  hu"j„-  c'06, 
its  handle;  and  though  there  was  jj  sjov'/,  ji 
triumph,  an  audible  murmur  of  sa'.f  >^3  .j'.icn  ran 
through  the  whole  band. 

When  Reginald  presented  Et)-<'/,'.tDn  lo  War- 
Eagle  as  his  earliest  and  most  f^iithful  friend 
from  childhood,  the  chief,  takirg  him  by  the 
hand,  said,  "  The  friend  of  Ne.ii  's  the  friend  of 
War-Eagle, — their  hearts  are  2iie;  he  is  very 
welcome."  Reginald  then  f.v'sented  Winge- 
nund  to  his  friend,  as  the  ga.iua  youth  who  had 
saved  his  life  on  the  banks  c;"ihe  Muskingum. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  lur.f^  known  him,"  said 
Ethelston,  shaking  his  '.iwnd  cordially;  "I  have 
come  lately  from  Moj.iidune,  where  his  name 
is  not  forgotten." 

"Is  the  Lily  of  I/ojrhanne  welH"  inquired 
the  youth,  fixing  his  li^rk  and  earnest  eyes  full 
upon  the  counlendnce  of  the  person  whom  he 
was  addressing.  Ethelston  had  been  prepared 
by  his  friend's  description  of  Wingenund  for  a 
demeanour  and  character  highly  interesting,  but 
there  was  a  melody,  a  pathos,  a  slight  tremour 
in  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  those  few  words, 
there  was  also  in  his  countenance  a  touching 
expression  of  melancholy  that  thrilled  to  the 
heart  of  Ethelston.  How  quick  is  the  jealous 
eye  of  love !  Ethelston  knew  that  Wingenund 
had  passed  only  one  day  in  the  society  of  Luc)', 
yet  he  saw  in  an  instant  the  deep  impression 
which  that  day  had  left  on  the  young  Indian's 
mind. 

"  The  Lily  of  Mooshanne  is  well,"  he  replied. 
"  If  she  had  known  that  I  should  visit  her  broth- 
er, and  his  Lenape  friends,  she  would  have  bid 
me  speak  many  kind  words  to  them  from  her." 

Wingenund  passed  on,  and  War-Eagle  related 
to  the  two  friends  the  leading  circumstances  of 
his  own  expedition,  omitting  all  mention  of  the 
fatigue,  the  hunger,  the  sleepless  nights  that  he 
had  undergone,  before  he  discovered  and  reach- 
ed the  Osage  camp. 

As  he  described  the  scene  of  Wingenund  be- 
ing tied  to  the  post,  with  the  dried  faggots  at  his 
feet,  and  the  appearance  of  Prairie-bird  when 
Mahega  called  upon  her  to  pronounce  her  own 
or  her  brother's  fate,  both  of  his  auditors  held 
their  breath  with  anxious  suspense,  which  gave 
place  to  astonishment,  as  he  proceeded  to  relate 
with  undisguised  awe,  the  m3'stery  of  the  solar 
eclipse,  which  led  to  the  liberation  of  Winge- 
nund. 

When  he  had  concluded  his  narrative,  Regi- 
nald was  speechless,  and  Ethelston  car  hingthe 
Delaware's  arm,  inquired  in  a  low  whisper, 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


139 


las  the  Osage  dared,  or  will  he  dare  to  make 
]^ie-bird  bis  wife  by  force  1" 
le  has  not,"  replied  the  Chief,  "the  words 
'  Olitipa,  and  the  black  sun,  made  him  afraid." 
He  added,  drawing  himself  proudly  to  his  full 
height,  "  Had  the  wolf  threatened  to  touch  her 
with  his  paw,  the  tomahawk  of  War-Eagle 
would  have  pierced  his  heart,  or  the  bones  of 
the  Lenape  chief  and  his  brother  would  have 
been  picked  by  the  buzzards  of  the  mountains." 
So  saying,  War-Eagle  joined  his  expectant 
warriors. 

In  the  mean  time  Mahega  returned  to  his 
camp,  in  a  vexed  and  gloomy  state  of  mind ;  as 
he  passed  the  tent  of  Prairie-bird  a  darker  frown 
lowered  upon  his  brow,  and  having  entered  his 
lodge,  he  seated  himself,  without  speaking  to 
any  of  those  who  had  assembled  there,  in  ex- 
pectation of  his  return. 

The  youngest  of  the  Osages  present  having 
handed  him  a  lighted  pipe,  retired  to  a  corner 
of  the  lodge,  where  he  resumed  his  occupation 
of  sharpening  the  head  of  a  barbed  arrow, 
leaving  the  chief  to  his  own  meditations.  These 
dwelt  mainly  upon  Prairie-bird,  and  were  of  a 
nature  so  mingled  and  vague,  as  to  cause  him 
the  greatest  perplexity;  the  effect  of  her  beauty 
and  attractions  upon  his  passions  had  rather 
increased  than  diminished.  He  loved  her  as 
much  as  one  so  fierce  and  selfish  could  love 
another;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  felt  that  he 
ought  to  hate  her,  as  being  the  sister  of  War- 
Eagle,  and  the  betrothed  of  the  man  who  haa 
struck  and  disgraced  him ;  with  these  contend- 
ing feelings,  there  was  blended  a  superstitious 
awe  of  her  communion  with  the  world  of  spirits, 
and  a  remote  hope  that  some  of  these  supernat- 
ural agencies  might  turn  her  heart  in  his  fa- 
vour, and  induce  her  not  only  to  become  his 
bride,  but  zealously  to  employ  all  her  mysteri- 
ous powers  in  the  furtherance  of  his  ambitious 
schemes. 

Such  was  the  train  of  thought  pursued  by  the 
Osage,  as  he  leaned  against  the  pile  of  furs  that 
supported  his  back,  and  stretching  his  huge  limbs 
at  their  ease,  watched  the  eddying  wreaths  of 
fragrant  smoke,  which,  gently  puffed  from  his 
mouth  and  nostril,  wound  their  slow  way  to  the 
fissures  in  the  lodge-roof  by  which  they  es- 
caped.* 

The  suggestion  of  Toweno  had  made  a  strong 
impression  upon  Mahega's  mind,  and  led  him  to 
expect  at  no  distant  period,  an  attack  on  the 
part  of  the  Delawares,  and,  as  he  was  uncertain 
of  the  force  which  his  enemy  might  bring  against 
him,  he  resolved  to  make  a  timely  retreat  to 
some  spot,  where  a  pursuit,  if  attempted  by  the 
Delawares,  might  enable  him  to  take  them  at  a 
disadvantage. 

Calling  to  him  an  Osage,  who  was  leaning 
against  one  of  the  outer  posts  that  supported 
the  lodge,  he  desired  him  to  make,  with  a  com- 
rade, a  careful  search  of  the  neighbourhood, 
and  to  report  any  trail  or  suspicious  appearance 
that  they  might  find,  and  when  he  had  given 
Ihese  orders  he  summoned  Toweno,  and  started 
ivith  him  towards  the  head  of  the  little  valley. 


*  The  herbs  mingled  by  the  Indians  with  a  small  prop-i. 
tion  of  tobacco,  are  frequently  of  a  light  and  fragrant  fla- 
vour; sometimes,  too,  they  have  some  narcotic  properties.  In 
order  fully  to  enjoy  their  qualities  after  the  Indian  fashion, 
the  smoker  must  inhale  the  smoke  by  the  mouth  and  expel 
^  through  the  nostril,  in  which  operation  the  nerves  and 
small  vessels  of  the  latter  experience  a  pungent  sensation 
which  some  consider  highly  agreeable,  and  is  not  unlike 
tbkt  which  is  caused  hy  a  pinch  of  nold,  or  perfumed  snuff. 


without  informing  him  of  the  object  which  he 
had  in  view,  but  as  the  latter  was  the  only  per- 
son to  whom  the  chief  had  entrusted  the  secret 
of  the  Cache,  where  his  most  valuable  spoils 
were  deposited,  and  as  they  were  now  march- 
ing in  that  direction,  he  was  not  at  a  loss  to  di- 
vine Mahega's  intentions.  After  a  brief  silence, 
the  chief  said  to  nis  follower,  "  Do  the  thoughts 
of  Toweno  walk  upon  the  same  path  with  the 
thoughts  of  Mahega T' 
"  They  do,"  he  replied. 
"Can  Toweno  speak  ih^ml" 
"Mahega  intends  to  leave  the  camp  befoie 
the  Lenape  come,  and  taking  some  goods  with 
him  as  presents  to  the  mountain  tribes,  to  find  a 
safe  place  where  the  enemy  cannot  follow  him." 
"  Toweno  says  well,"  answered  the  chief,  with 
a  grim  smile,  "  but  that  is  not  enough,  the  Le- 
nape must  be  made  a  fool,  he  must  be  put  upon 
a  wrong  trail." 

"  That  is  good,  if  it  can  be  done,"  said  To- 
weno gravely,  "  but  it  is  not  easy  to  put  sand  in 
the  eyes  of  War-Eagle." 

"  Mahega  will  put  sand  into  his  eyes,  and  a 
knife  into  his  heart  before  this  moon  becomes  a 
circle,"  replied  the  chief,  clutching  as  he  went 
the  haft  of  his   scalpknife,  and  unconsciously 
lengthening  his  stride  under  the  excitement  pro- 
duced by  the  thoughts  of  a  conflict  with  his 
hated  foe.    They  had  now  reached  the  "  cache,'' 
which  was  a  large  dry  hole  in  the  side  of  a 
rocky  bank,  the  entrance  to  which  was  closed 
by  a  slone,  and  admirably  concealed  by  a  dense 
thicket  of  brambles  and  wild  raspberry  bushes ; 
having  rolled  away  the  stone,  Mah6ga  with- 
drew from  the  cache  a  plentiful  supply  of  beads, 
vermilion,  powder,  and  clotffls  of  various  colour, 
being  part  of  the  plunder  taken  from  the  camp 
of  the  unfortunate  Delawares,  and  wrapping  in 
two  blankets  as  much  as  he  and  his  companion 
could  carry,  they  replaced  the  stone,  carefully 
concealing  their  footprints  as  they  retreated,  by 
strewing  them  with  leaves  and  grass.     At  a 
spot  very  near  the  cache  was  the  skeleton  of  a 
deer,  which  Mahega  had  killed  on  a  former  oc- 
casion, and  purposely  dragged  thither.   As  soon 
as  they  reached  this  point,  they  took  no  further 
precaution  to  conceal  their  trail,  because  even 
if  it  were  found,  the  party  discovering  it  would 
stop  under  the  impression  that  it  was  made  by 
the  hunters  who  had  killed  the  deer.     On  re- 
turning to  the  camp  they  met  the  two  Osagjs 
who  had  been  despatched  to  reconnoitre,  and 
who  reported  that  they  had  Ibund  one  fresh 
Indian  trail  in  the  woods  opposite  the  little  val- 
ley,  and  that  they  had  followed  it  as  far  as  the 
stream,  where,  from  its  direction  and  appear- 
ance, they  were  assured  it  was  the  trail  of  War- 
Eagle;  and  Mahega  nov/  first  learned  that  his 
daring  foe  had  been  within  eighty  yards  of  the 
spot  selected  for  the  torture  of  Wingenund.    His 
was  not  a  nature  to  give  way  to  idle  regrets; 
equally  a  stranger  to  fear  and  to  remorse,  the 
future  troubled  him  but  little,  the  past  not  at  all, 
excepting  when  it  afforded  him  food  wherewith 
to  cherish  his  revenge;  so  the  information  now 
received  did  not  interrupt  him  in  carrying  into 
execution  his  plans  for  retreat.     Accordingly, 
lie  desired  Toweno  to  summon  his  warriors  to 
a  council,  and  in  a  short  time  the  band,  now  re- 
duced to  eight  besides  himself,  assembled  in 
front  of  his  lodge.    Here  he  harangued  them 
with  his  usual  cunning  sagacity,  pointing  out 
to  them  the  risk  of  remaining  in  their  present 
position,  and  setting  before  them  in  the  mosi 


130 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


favourable  light  the  advantages  which  might 
accrue  from  their  falling  in  with  some  of  the 
peaceable  tribes  among  the  mountains,  and 
carrying  back  from  them  to  the  banks  of  the 
Osage  and  Kansas  rivers  a  plentiful  cargo  of 
beaver  and  other  valuable  skins.  Having  con- 
cluded his  harangue,  he  opened  before  them  tlie 
largest  (although  the  least  precious)  of  the  bales 
brought  from  the  c&che,  which  he  divided  equally 
among  them,  so  that  each  warrior  knowing  what 
belonged  to  him,  might  use  it  as  he  thought  fit; 
die  remaining  bale  he  ordered  to  be  carefully  se- 
cured in  wrappers  of  hide,  and  to  be  reserved 
for  negotiations  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole 
band ;  the  Osages  were  loud  in  their  approbation 
of  the  speech,  and  of  the  liberal  distribution  of 
presents  by  which  it  had  been  accompanied,  and 
they  retired  from  his  lodge  to  make  immediate 
preparations  for  departure. 

While  these  were  rapidly  advancing,  Mah^ga, 
who  had  made  himself  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  neighbouring  locality,  considered  and  ma- 
tured his  plans  for  retreat,  the  chief  object  of 
which  was  to  mislead  the  Delawares  in  the  event 
of  their  attempting  a  pursuit.  The  result  of  his 
meditations  he  confined  to  his  own  breast,  and 
his  followers  neither  v/ished  nor  cared  to  know 
it,  having  full  reliance  upon  his  sagacity  and 
judgment.  Meanwhile  Prairie-bird  remained 
quietly  in  her  tent,  grateful  for  the  deliverance 
of  her  young  brothers,  and  indulging  in  a  thou- 
sand dreamy  visions  of  her  own  escape,  contrived 
and  efiected  by  Reginald  and  War-Eagle.  These 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  entrance  ofLita, 
who,  while  engaged  in  carrj'ing  water  from  the 
brook,  had  gathered  from  one  of  the  Osages  some 
intelligence  of  what  was  going  forward.  If  the 
truth  must  be  told,  this  Indian,  separated  from 
the  woman-kind  of  his  own  tribe,  had  begun  to 
lOok  on  the  expressive  gipsy  countenance  of  the 
Comanche  girl  with  an  eye  of  favour;  and  she 
not  being  slow  to  detect  the  influence  which  she 
had  acquired,  encouraged  him  just  enough  to 
render  him  communicative,  and  willing  to  offer 
her  such  attentions  as  were  admissible  in  their 
relative  situations.  Yet  in  her  heart  she  scorned 
him  as  a  "  dog  of  an  Osage,"  and  though  he 
knew  her  to  be  only  a  slave,  there  was  something 
in  her  manner  that  attracted  him  in  spite  of  him- 
self; it  was  not  difficult  for  the  quick  girl  to 
gather  from  her  admirer  the  news  of  Winge- 
nund's  escape,  and  the  death  of  the  two  Osages 
sent  to  guard  him,  but  when  she  heard  the  latter 
attributed  with  an  execration  to  the  hand  of  War- 
Eagle,  she  was  obliged  to  avert  her  face,  that 
her  informant  might  not  observe  the  look  of  tri- 
umph that  gleamed  in  her  dark  eyes. 

Having  ascertained  at  the  same  time,  that 
Mahega  was  about  to  strike  his  camp  and  re- 
sume his  march,  she  rewarded  the  Osage  by  an 
arch  smile,  that  sent  him  away  contented,  while 
she,  takingupher  water  vessel,  pursued  her  way 
to  her  mistress's  tent. 

To  the  latter,  Lita  lost  no  time  in  communi- 
cating what  she  had  learned,  and  was  disappoint- 
ed to  observe  that  Prairie-bird  seemed  rather 
vexed  than  gratified  by  the  intelligence. 

"  Does  Olilipa  not  rejoice"?"  inquired  she  ea- 
gerly, "  that  th'  scalps  of  the  Washashe  dogs 
who  kept  Wingenund  prisoner  are  hanging  at 
the  belt  of  the  Lenape  chief  T' 

"  Olitipa  is  tired  of  blood,"  answered  the  maid- 
en, mournfully,  "  and  the  loss  of  his  warriors  will 
maie  Mah6ga  more  fierce  and  cruel  to  us.  See, 
already  he  prepares  to  go  on  a  distant  path,  where 


tne  eyes  of  War-Eagle  and  Netis  may  not  find\ 
us ;"  and  the  poor  girl  shuddered  at  the  prospe«iy 
of  a  journey  to  regions  yet  more  wild  and  remote;,' 
and  a  captivity  yet  more  hopeless  of  deliverance, 

"  Let  him  go  where  never  Washashe  foot  step- 
ped before,"  replied  Lita,  "  where  no  trail  is  seen 
but'thatof  the  bighorn,  and  the  black- tailed  deer; 
War-Eagle  will  follow  and  will  find  him." 

Prairie-bird  smiled  sadly  at  the  eagerness  of 
her  companion,  and  then  desired  her  aid  in  get- 
ting their  wardrobe  and  few  moveables  ready  lor 
the  expected  journey.  While  they  were  thus 
employed  Mahega  called  Prairie-bird  to  the  door 
of  her  tent,  where  she  found  the  chief,  with  his 
arm  wrapped  round  with  a  cloth;  and  believing 
him  to  be  wounded,  she  acceded  at  once  to  liis 
request  that  she  would  give  him  one  of  her  ker- 
chiefs for  a  bandage.  During  the  remainder  ol 
the  evening  she  sav/  nothing  more  of  him  or  cl 
his  people,  and  she  slept  undisturbed  until  an 
hour  before  dawn,  when  she  was  awakened  by 
the  bustle  of  preparation  for  departure. 

As  soon  as  her  light  tent  was  struck  and  fast- 
ened to  the  poles  which  supported  it,  aite  observed 
that  a  kind  of  cradle  had  been  constructed  by  the 
Osages,  which  was  covered  with  skins,  and  was 
adapted  to  the  purpose  of  carrying  herself  or  her 
moveables,  when  slung  to  the  tent  poles,  as  well 
as  to  convey  its  contents  dry  over  any  river  that 
might  obstruct  their  passage. 

The  Osage  party  was  novf  divided  into  two,  of 
which  one  was  reserved  by  Mahega  for  his  own 
guidance,  the  other  being  entrusted  to  that  ot 
Toweno ;  all  the  horses  were  placed  under  tht 
charge  of  the  latter,  including  those  carrying  the 
packages,  and  the  palfrey  usually  ridden  bj 
Prairie-bird;  this  party  bent  their  course  to  th( 
northward,  and  Mahega  accompanied  them  ; 
few  hundred  yards,  repeating  many  instruction* 
to  Toweno,  M'hich  seemed  from  his  earnest  ges- 
ticulation to  be  both  minute  and  important. 

The  heart  of  Prairie-bird  sank  within  her 
when  she  saw  her  favourite  horse  led  away,  and 
herself  left  M-ith  Lita  on  foot,  attended  by  Ma- 
hega and  four  of  his  men;  knowing,  however, 
the  inutility  of  any  present  attempt  either  at  re- 
sistance or  ffrght,  she  awaited  in  uncomplaining 
silence  the  further  commands  of  her  captor,  al- 
though she  easily  saw  through  the  mocking  veil 
ol  courtesy  with  which  he  disguised  his  antici- 
pated triumph  over  her  baffled  friends.  To  his 
inquiry  whether  she  preferred  travelling  on  foot 
to  being  carried  in  the  wicker-frame  by  two  ol 
his  men,  she  replied  without  hesitation,  in  the 
affirmative  ;  upon  which  he  presented  her  with 
a  pair  of  moccasins,  to  be  worn  over  her  own,  so 
ingeniously  contrived  that  although  they  did  no< 
encumber  her  movements  by  their  weight,  they 
)'et  rendered  it  impossible  that  her  foot-prints 
should  be  recognised,  even  by  the  practised  eye 
of  War-Eagle.  A  similar  pair  was  also  placed 
on  the  feet  ofLita. 

It  may  easily  be  imagined,  that  the  Osages, 
during  their  res'idence  at  this  encampment,  made 
various  excursions  for  hunting  and  other  pur- 
poses ;  they  had  used  on  these  occasions  old  trails 
made  by  native  tribes  or  by  the  bison ;  one  of 
these  ran  in  a  north-east  direction,  skirting  the 
base  of  the  high  western  hills,  and  oflfering  th»» 
prospect  of  easy  travelling,  through  an  undula- 
ting and  partially  wooded  country.  Into  this 
padi  Mahega  struck  at  once,  leading  the  way 
himself,  followed  oy  Prairie-bird  and  Lita,  the 
four  Osages  bringing  up  the  rear.  This  line  ol 
march  being  adopted  by  the  cunning  chief,  first 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


131 


he  might  have   frequent   opportunity  of 

J  and  speaking  with  the  maiden,  and 

Indly,  that  his  men  might  be  the  better  ena- 

'ed  to  fulfil  his  strict  injunction,  that  they  should 

rirefully  remove  any  trace  which  she  might 
purposely,  or  accidentally,  leave  on  the  trail. 

Such  an  idea  did  not,  however,  appear  to  have 
entered  the  thoughts  of  Prairie-bird,  for  she  fol- 
lowed the  Osage  chief  with  a  blithe  and  cheerful 
air,  replying  good-humouredly  to  the  observa- 
tions, which  he  from  time  to  time  addressed  to 
her,  and  pointing  out  to  Lita  the  beauties  of  the 
scenery  through  which  they  were  passing. 

It  was  indeed  a  lovely  region,  abounding  in 
rock,  herbage,  and  magnificent  timber;  the  latter 
aflbrding  an  agreeable  shelter  from  the  rays  of 
the  sun,  while  the  fresh  breeze,  blowing  from 
the  snow-capped  mountains,  which  bounded  the 
western  prospect,  rendered  the  exercise  of  walk- 
ing pleasant  in  the  highest  degre'e. 

They  had  followed  the  trail  for  some  time 
without  meeting  with  any  game,  when  the  quick 
eye  of  Mahega  detected  a  mountain-deer,  brows- 
ing at  no  great  distance,  and  in  a  moment  an 
arrow  from  his  bow  pierced  its  flank ;  the  wound- 
ed animal  bounded  onward  into  the  glade,  and 
the  chief  sprang  forward  in  pursuit.  The  Osa- 
ges  fixed  their  keen  and  eager  eyes  on  the  chase, 
muttering  half-aloud  expressions  of  impatient 
discontent  at  being  prevented  from  joining  it. 
Swift  as  had  been  the  arrow  of  Mahega,  it  was 
not  more  so  than  the  thought  and  hand  of  Prai- 
rie-bird, who  contrived,  while  her  guards  were 
gazing  intently  on  the  deer  and  its  pursuer,  to 
let  fall  unperceived  a  small  slip  of  paper  upon 
the  trail ;  so  completely  did  she  appear  absorbed 
in  watching  the  chase,  that  the  movement  was 
unnoticed  even  by  Lita,  and  the  party  continued 
their  way  a  few  hundred  steps,  when  a  signal 
from  Mahega,  now  out  of  sight,  soon  brought 
one  of  his  followers  to  assist  him  in  cutting  up 
the  quarry. 

Before  leaving  her  tent.  Prairie-bird  had  pre- 
pared and  secreted  about  her  person  several 
Email  slips  of  paper,  on  each  of  which  she  had 
written  the  word  "  Follow,"  trusting  to  her  own 
ingenuity  to  find  an  opportunity  of  dropping 
one  now  and  then  unobserved  by  the  Osages. 

Such  an  opportunity  having  now  occurred,  it 
had  been  successfully  employed,  and  the  maiden 
went  forward  with  a  lighter  heart,  in  the  confi- 
dent hope  that  Providence  would  cause  some 
friendly  eye  to  rest  upon  the  slight,  yet  guiding 
token  left  upon  her  path. 

For  two  days  Mahega  pursued  his  march 
eisurely,  as  if  fearless  of  pursuit,  halting  fre- 
quently to  aiTord  rest  and  refreshment  to  Prairie- 
bird,  and  camping  at  night,  on  some  sheltered 
spot,  where  his  men  constructed  for  her  protec- 
tion a  hut,  or  bower  of  branches,  over  which 
was  thrown  a  covering  of  skins ;  before  setting 
out  in  the  morning  this  bower  v/as  destroyed, 
and  the  branches  dragged  to  some  distance  in 
several  directions,  and  Mahega,  having  careful- 
ly examined  the  spot,  was  the  last  to  leave  it, 
in  order  to  ensure  that  no  indication  or  trace  of 
his  fair  prisoner  might  remain. 

On  the  third  day  about  noon  they  reached  the 
banks  of  a  broad  stream,  which  two  of  the  Osa- 
ges crossed  immediately,  with  instructions  from 
their  chief  to  make  a  visible  trail  in  a  N.E. 
direction  for  some  distance,  when  they  were  to 
enter  the  river  again  at  another  place,  and  to 
wade  or  swim  down  it  until  they  rejoined  him; 
meanwhile  Prairie-bird  and  Lita,  with  such  arti- 


cles as  they  wished  to  keep  dry,  were  placed  in 
the  light  coriole  or  wicker-boat  covered  with 
skins,  and  Mahega  guided  its  course  down  the 
stream,  followed  by  the  remainder  of  his  men; 
they  descended  the  bed  of  the  river  for  several 
miles  in  this  way,  and  although  more  than  one 
trail  appeared  on  the  banks  as  a  crossing  place 
for  Indians  or  bison,  he  passed  them  all  unheed- 
ed, until  he  came  to  a  broad  track,  which  had 
very  lately  been  trodden  by  so  many  feet  that 
the  trail  of  his  own  party  could  not  be  distin- 
guished upon  it;  here  he  halted  until  he  was  re- 
joined by  the  men  whom  he  had  left  behind, 
when  they  proceeded  forward  at  a  brisk  pace, 
towards  the  spot  which  he  had  appointed  as  the 
rendezvous  for  his  party  in  charge  of  the  pack- 
ages and  the  horses. 

Mahega  was  now  in  high  spirits,  being  confi- 
dent that  the  precautions  which  he  had  taken 
would  throw  the  pursuers  off  the  scent,  and  en- 
able him  to  follow  out  his  plans,  which  were  to 
trade,  during  the  summer  with  the  Shosonies 
and  other  tribes  hovering  about  the  spurs  of  the 
mountains,  procuring  from  them  beaver  and 
other  valuable  furs  in  exchange  for  the  fine 
cloths  and  goods  which  he  had  brought  from  the 
Delaware  camp;  after  which  he  proposed  to  re- 
turn to  the  northern  portion  of  the  Osage  country, 
enriched  by  his  traffic,  and  glorying  in  the  pos- 
session of  his  mysterious  and  beautiful  bride. 

Such  were  the  projects  entertained  by  the 
Osage  chief,  and  he  brooded  over  them  so  ab- 
stactedly,  that  he  afforded  to  the  ever-watchful 
Prairie-bird  an  opportunity  of  dropping  another 
of  her  small  slips  of  paper  unperceived ;  she  did 
not  neglect  it,  although  almost  hopeless  of  her 
friends  ever  discovering  her  path  after  the  many 
precautions  taken  by  JNIahega,  and  the  long  dis- 
tance down  the  course  of  the  river  where  no 
trail  nor  trace  of  the  passage  of  his  party  could 
be  left. 

On  reaching  the  rendezvous  he  found  his  de- 
tachment with  the  horses  and  baggage  already 
arrived ;  they  had  come  by  a  circuitous  route, 
availing  themselves  of  several  Indian  trails  by 
the  way,  on  one  of  which  Toweno  had,  by  direc- 
tion of  his  chief,  scattered  some  shreds  of  the 
kerchief  that  he  obtained  from  Prairie-bird  ; 
ailer  which  he  had  returned  upon  the  same 
trail,  and  diverged  into  a  transverse  one,  which 
had  enabled  him  to  reach  the  rendezvous  by  the 
time  appointed. 

Prairie-bird  being  again  mounted  upon  her 
favourite  palfrey,  the  whole  party  set  forward 
with  increased  speed,  which  they  did  not  relax 
until  towards  evening,  when  they  saw  in  the 
distance  numerous  fires,  betokening  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  a  populous  Indian  village.  Mahe- 
ga then  ordered  a  halt,  and  having  sent  forward 
Toweno  to  reconnoitre,  encamped  in  a  sheltered 
valley  for  the  night.  When  Prairie-bird  found 
herself  once  more,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  two 
preceding  days,  under  the  cover  of  her  own  tent, 
she  looked  round  its  small  circular  limits,  and 
felt  as  if  she  were  at  home!  casting  herself  upon 
her  couch  of  furs,  she  offered  up  her  gratefu. 
thanks  to  the  Almighty  Being  who  had  hitherto 
so  mercifully  protected  her,  and  soon  forgot  her 
cares  and  weariness  in  sound  and  refreshing 
slumbers. 


133 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


War  Eagle  and  his  Party  reach  the  deserted  Camp  of  the 
Osages. — The  Latter  fall  in  with  a  strange  Band  of  In- 
dians, and  Mah6ga  appears  in  the  Character  of  a  Diplo- 
matist. 

A  BRIGHT  sun  shone  upon  the  little  valley, 
which,  twenty-four  hours  before,  had  been  de- 
sened  by  the  O.'^ages,  when  a  tall  form  glided 
cautiously  to  its  entrance,  half  concealed  by  the 
bushes  that  fringed  its  edge.  Glancing  hastily 
around,  War-Eagle,  for  he  it  was  who  was 
guiding  his  party  in  pursuit,  returned  to  an- 
nounce to  them  his  belief  that  the  enemy  had 
decamped;  nevertheless,  the  usual  precautions 
were  adopted  against  a  surprise.  A  small  body 
of  Delawares  were  thrown  forward  to  recon- 
noitre the  neighbouring  woods,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Atto,  while  the  chief,  accompanied  by 
Reginald,  Ethelston,  and  the  rest  of  the  party, 
entered  the  deserted  Osage  encampment;  every 
nook  and  cranny  among  the  adjacent  woods 
and  rocks  were  diligently  explored,  and  not  till 
then  were  they  convinced  that  their  crafty  foe 
had  given  them  the  slip.  While  the  rest  of  the 
party  were  busied  in  this  search,  the  eye  of  Re- 
ginald Brandon  rested  in  absorbed  attention 
upon  the  spot  to  which  his  steps  had  been  first 
led,  as  if  by  the  power  of  instinct ;  it  was  a  small 
plot,  completely  sheltered  by  the  rock  which 
guarded  the  front  of  the  recess ;  a  few  holes 
made  in  the  turf  showed  wliere  pegs  had  been 
driv(!n  in  to  secure  a  circular  tent.  "  Here," 
said  Reginald  to  Ethelston,  "  here  is  the  spot 
trodden  "by  her  dear  feet — here  have  her  weary 
limbs  reposed  during  the  long  watches  of  the 
night — here  have  her  prayers  been  offered  up  at 
noon  and  eve  for  that  rescue  which  we  seem 
doomed,  alas  !  never  to  accomplish  !" 

"  Say  not  a  word,  my  son,"  said  Paul  Miiller, 
iaying  his  hand  kindly  on  the  excited  Reginald's 
shoulder;  "say  not  a  word,  my  son,  which 
would  seem  to  limit  the  power  or  the  mercy  of 
that  Being  to  whom  those  prayers  were  address- 
ed. Hope  is  the  privilege,  perseverance  the  duty 
of  man;  let  us  faithfully  use  these  bountie?^  and 
leave  the  issue  to  His  all-wise  disposal." 

"  I  am  indeed  ashamed  of  my  hasty  expres- 
sion, worthy  Father,"  said  Reginald,  frankly; 
"  but  I  will  draw  encouragement  from  your  sug- 
gestion, and  banish  every  desponding  thought, 
while  there  remains  a  chance  of  success,  or  even 
a  glimmering  of  hope." 

Wingenuiid,  who  had  approached  unobserved 
to  the  side  of  his  friend,  whispered  to  him,  in  a 
low  voice,  "Netis  is  right:  here  it  was  that  Olit- 
ipa  sat  when  Wingenund  was  a  prisoner ;  she  is 
not  far,  the  Lenape  warriors  never  lose  a  trail." 
While  they  were  thus  conversing,  a  messen- 
ger from  War-Eagle  summoned  them  to  a  con- 
sultation on  the  plan  of  pursuit  which  should  be 
adopted. 

It  may  not  be  unnecessary  to  inform  those 
who  have  never  been  upon  the  prairies  of  the 
Far- West,  that  a  trail  is  easily  followed  when 
the  party  pursued  is  in  full  retreat,  because  any 
indication  of  footsteps  is  a  sure  guide  to  its 
course;  whereas,  in  a  camping-place,  where  a 
party  has  remained  for  a  considerable  time, 
numberless  paths  are  trodden  in  various  direc- 
tions during  its  stay,  some  for  hunting  excur- 
sions, some  for  bringing  water,  others  for  leading 
horses  to  and  from  their  pasturage,  so  that  the 
pursuer  is  at  a  loss  to  discover  by  which  of 
these  paths  those  of  whom  he  is  in  pursuit  have 
retreated. 


iJjm 


War-Eagle  being  well  aware  that  Ma* 
was  not  less  skilled  than  himself  in  ah  the  straC 
agems  and  devices  of  Indian  warfare,  set  about 
this  dilTicult  task  with  a  deliberation  that  did  riot 
suit  the  eager  temper  of  Reginald  Brandon  , 
nevertheless,  he  had  so  much  confidence  in  the 
sagacity  of  his  Indian  brother,  that  he  restrained 
all  expression  of  his  impatience,  and  agreed 
without  objection  to  the  method  proposed  by  him 
at  the  couhcil.  Agreeably  to  this  plan,  Paul 
Miiller,  Perrot,  and  several  of  the  hunters  and 
Delawares,  remained  on  guard  at  the  camp, 
while  the  main  body,  divided  into  small  parties 
of  two  or  three  in  each,  were  to  explore  ever)- 
trail  that  offered  a  probability  of  success,  and  to 
return  before  nightfall  to  report  the  result  of 
their  search.  War-Eagle  set  out,  accompanied 
by  Atto ;  Reginald  was  joined  by  Ethelston  and 
Baptiste ;  the  other  parties  took  the  respecti-'e 
quarters  assigned  to  them,  and  Wingenund,  who 
remained  some  time  after  they  had  started,  left 
the  camp  alone. 

The  trail  followed  by  Reginald  and  his  friends 
led  towards  the  upper  part  of  the  valley,  over 
broken  and  bushy  ground,  intersected  here  and 
there  by  streamlets,  and  small  springs,  which  just 
afforded  water  enough  to  soften  the  herbage,  m 
which  they  were  soon  lost.  Had  he  been  less 
absorbed  by  the  object  of  the  expedition,  Regi- 
nald could  not  have  failed  to  admire  the  tran- 
quil beauty  of  this  sheltered  and  secluded  spot; 
but  the  rich  foliage  of  the  forest  trees,  the  merry 
chirrup  of  the  birds,  the  fragrance  exhaled  by 
the  numberless  shrubs  and  flowers,  tne  tempting 
clusters  of  wild  raspberries,  scattered  around 
their  path,  all  these  were  passed  unneeded  by 
men  whose  senses  and  faculties  were  ^.entered 
only  on  the  trad.  With  equal  modesty  and  gooa 
sense,  Reginald  had  desired  Baptiste  to  take  the 
lead,  knowing  that  the  sturdy  forester's  expe- 
rience  in  such  matters  was  far  greater  than  his 
own. 

After  they  had  marched  a  considerable  dis- 
tance in  silence,  Reginald  inquired  the  opinion 
of  his  guide. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  replied  the  latter,  "  the  Osa- 
ges have  driven  their  horses  several  times  this 
way  to  feed,  and  their  marks  are  plain  enough ; 
but  if  a  man  may  judge  by  the  looks  of  the  coun- 
try forward,  this  is  not  likely  to  be  the  right 
trail.  It  seems  to  get  smaller  the  further  we  go ; 
and  I'm  inclined  to  think  it's  only  been  a  hunt- 
ing path  into  the  woods." 

After  this  unsatisfactory  observation,  Baptiste 
again  went  forward,  until  he  stopped  at  the 
skeleton  of  a  deer;  the  same,  it  may  be  re- 
membered, as  was  mentioned  in  a  former  chap- 
ter. Here  all  traces  of  a  further  trail  ceased, 
and  the  disappointed  Reginald  exclaimed, 

"  Baptiste,  your  suggestion  was  only  too  cor- 
rect; we  have  lost  our  time;  let  us  return,  and 
search  in  some  other  direction." 

"  Not  so  fast,  Master  Reginald,"  replied  the 
cautious  Guide;  "there's  as  many  tricks  in  an 
Indian's  brain  as  there  are  holes  in  a  honey- 
comb. The  animal  has  been  dead  some  time, 
and,  unless  this  grass  deceives  me,  it  has  been 
trodden  within  these  two  days.  Voyons  vile,  as 
they  say  up  north.  Stand  quite  still;  and  you, 
too.  Master  Ethelston,  keep  on  that  side  of  the 
deer's  bones,  while  I  have  a  bit  of  a  hunt  after 
the  wood  fashion." 

So  saying,  the  Guide,  resting  "  The  Doctor" 
upon  the  skeleton,  and  throwing  himself  upon 
his  knees,  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves  ari  t« 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


1S3 


vcxamiiie  minutely  every  blade  of  grass  and  fallen 
twig,  imUtering,  as  he  pursued  his  task,  "If 
War-Eagle,  or  one  of  his  double-sighted  Dela- 
wares  were  here,  he  would  pick  out  this  trail  in 
no  lime.  My  eyes  are  not  so  good  as  they  were 
Bome  years  back;  but  they  will  serve  this  pur- 
pose, however :  This  is  only  bungling  work, 
%fter  aL :  one— two ;  yes,  I  think  there's  been 
two  of  them.  Capote !  they've  strewed  sticks 
and  leaves  over  the  back-trail  1"  And  the  rough 
woodsman,  as,  creeping  forward  on  his  knees,  he 
discovered  each  succeeding  step  on  the  trail, 
hummed  snatches  of  an  old  Canadian  song,  the 
only  words  of  which  that  the  two  friends  could 
distinguish,  being  "  Vogue,  vogue,  la  bonne  pi- 
rogue!" 

"  Has  it  not  often  been  a  matter  of  surprise  to 
you,"  said  Ethelston  in  a  whisper  to  Reginald, 
"that  the  language,  and  even  the  dialect,  of  the 
Guide  so  constantly  varies  %  Sometimes  he 
speaks  very  intelligible  English;  at  others,  his 
phrases  and  exclamations  are  mostly  French ; 
and,  on  other  occasions,  he  mingles  the  two  most 
strangely  together." 

"  I  confess,"  replied  Reginald,  "  the  same 
thought  has  often  occurred  to  me ;  yet  it  is  not, 
perhaps,  so  strange  as  it  would  at  first  sight  ap- 
pear, when  we  remember  the  vicissitudes  of 
his  early  life,  the  number  of  years  that  he  spent 
in  youth  among  the  French  boatmen  and  traders 
of  the  northern  lakes,  his  excursions  with  them 
into  the  country  of  the  Upper  Sioux  and  the 
Chippewyan  nations;  while  for  the  last  fifteen 
years  he  has  been  much  employed  by  my  father, 
and,  from  his  honesty  and  trustworthy  qualities, 
has  been  thrown  .a  great  deal  into  constant  in- 
tercourse with  persons  of  respectability  and  edu- 
cation." 

Meanwhile,  Baptiste  having  ascertained  the 
direction  of  the  trail,  cast  his  eyes  forward,  and, 
like  a  shrewd  reasoner,  jumped  to  his  conclu- 
sion, in  this  instance,  more  correctly  than  is 
usually  the  case  with  the  persons  to  whom  he 
has  been  likened.  Pushing  aside  the  bushes 
which  grew  at  the  base  of  a  rock,  he  soon  ob- 
served a  large  aperture,  closed  by  a  stone  of 
corresponding  dimensions.  This  last  was,  with 
the  aid  of  Reginald,  soon  displaced,  and  the 
"ckche"  of  the  Osages,  together  with  the  plun- 
dered treasure  it  contained,  was  exposed  to  view. 

"  So,  so !"  chuckled  the  Guide,  "  we  have 
found  the  thieving  fox's  hole ;  an  they  do  not 
cover  their  trail  somewhat  belter  from  the  eyes 
of  War-Eagle,  we  shall  have  their  skins  before 
three  nights  are  over ;  why,  a  town  lawyer  could 
have  treed  this  coon !" 

Reginald  and  Ethelston  could  not  forbear 
laughing  at  the  low  estimation  in  which  the 
woodsman  held  the  ferreting  powers  of  a  town 
lawyer — an  estimation  so  contrary  to  that  enter- 
tained by  *,hose  who  have  any  experience  in  the 
capacity  of  a  class  so  unjustly  depreciated. 
They  resolved  to  carry  with  them  to  the  camp 
the  whole  contents  of  the  cave,  with  a  view  to 
their  being  forthwith  appropriated  and  disposed 
of  by  War-Eagle,  now  the  chief  of  the  tribe. 

Three  large  blankets  were  easily  tied  into  the 
wrm  of  so  many  sacks,  of  which  each  threw  one 
over  his  shoulder,  and  they  returned  v^'ith  their 
re:;overed  spoil  to  the  encampment. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  Delawares  when 
Iheysaw  the  three  white  men  coming  in,  hot  and 
weary  with  their  load ;  greater  still,  when  the 
blankets  were  opened,  and  their  contents  laid 
out  upon  the  turf,  among  which  were  found 


lead,  powder,  cloth,  knives,  beads,  paints,  med- 
icine-bags, and  a  variety  of  small  articles,  plun- 
dered from  the  lodge  of  the  unfortunate  Tame- 
nund,  and  those  adjoining.  Among  these  were 
a  few  books  and  instruments  belonging  to  Prai- 
rie-bird and  Paul  Miiller,  all  of  which  were  im- 
mediately delivered  over  to  the  latter. 

War-Eagle's  party  was  already  so  well  sup- 
plied with  necessaries  of  every  kind,  that  only 
a  small  portion  of  the  goods  was  required  for 
their  use ;  and  the  chief,  after  permitting  every 
man  to  claim  anything  which  might  have  be'- 
longed  to  himself  or  his  relatives,  ordered  the 
remainder  to  be  packed  in  bales  of  a  convenient 
size,  so  that  they  might  be  either  carried  with 
them  or  concealed,  as  circumstances  might  ren- 
der advisable. 

The  council  was  opened  by  War-Eagle,  who 
desired  the  several  parties,  who  had  been  out  in 
different  directions,  to  state  the  result  of  the 
search.  This  was  done  with  the  brief  simplicity 
usually  observed  by  Indians  on  such  occasions. 
But  nothing  of  importance  was  elicited;  for  of 
the  trails  which  they  had  examined,  none  seemed 
to  be  that  pursued  by  the  Osages  in  their  retreat. 
During  the  speech  of  one  of  the  Delaware  war- 
riors, Wingenund,  who  had  not  before  made  his 
appearance,  noiselessly  entered  the  circle,  and, 
taking  his  place  by  the  side  of  Reginald,  leaned 
in  silence  upon  his  rifle. 

Baptiste,  whose  age  and  experience  entitled 
him  to  speak,  and  who  suspected  that  the  chief 
had  not  been  altogether  unsuccessful  in  his 
search,  addressed  him  thus:  "Has  War-Eagle 
no  word  for  his  warriors  1  Grande-Hache  and 
Netis  have  found  the  stolen  goods:  has  the  path 
of  the  thief  been  dark  to  the  eyes  of  the  chief?" 

"  The  foot  of  War-Eagle  has  been  on  the 
Washashe  trail,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

A  murmur  of  satisfaction  ran  through  the  as- 
sembly, and  Reginald  could  scarcely  restrain  the 
open  expression  of  his  impatient  joy. 

"The  trail  is  fresh,"  continued  the  chief;  "not 
more  than  two  dews  have  fallen  on  the  prints  of 
foot  and  hoof" 

"  Did  my  brother  see  the  footmarks  of  Olitipa 
and  the  Comanche  girl?"  inquired  Reginald, 
hastily. 

"  He  did  not,  but  he  saw  the  trail  of  Olitipa's 
horse;  iron  is  on  two  of  its  feet."* 

During  this  conversation,  Wingenund  more 
than  once  looked  up  in  the  face  of  his  white 
brother,  then  cast  his  eyes  again  upon  the  ground 
without  speaking.  The  expression  of  the  youth's 
countenance  did  not  escape  the  observation  of 
War-Eagle,  who  thus  addressed  him :  "  Has  tha 
young  warrior  of  the  race  of  Tamenund  seen 
nothing?  He  has  been  far  over  the  Prairie;  hij. 
step  was  the  last  to  return  to  camp;  his  eyes  are 
not  shut-;  there  are  words  in  his  breast;  why  are 
his  lips  silent  ?" 

The  youth  modestly  replied  in  a  voice,  the 
singularly  musical  tone  of  which  charmed  and 
surprised  Ethelston,  who  had  seldom  heard  him 
speak  before,  "  Wingenund  waited  until  waniors 
who  have  seen  many  summers,  and  travelled  the 
warpath  often,  should  have  spoken.  Wingenund 
has  been  on  the  Washashe  trail." 

At  this  announcement  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise was  uttered  by  several  of  the  bystanders', 
for  all  had  seen  that  the  direction  whence  the 
youth  had  returned  to  the  camp  was  quite  differ- 

*  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  the  horses  used  by  the 
Indians  on  the  prairie  are  never  shod.  The  palfrey  of  Olit- 
ipa had  probably  been  orocured  from  some  MejdcAu  trader 


134 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


ent  from  that  which  had  been  pursued  by  War- 
i  Eagle,  and  yet  the  latter  had  affirmed  that  he  had 
been  on  the  trail  of  the  enemy.  The  chief  him- 
self was,  indeed,  surprised,  but  he  knew  the 
diffidence,  as  well  as  the  acute  sagacity  of  the 
young  speaker;  and  although  confident  that  he 
■was  not  mistaken  in  his  own  judgment,  he  was 
not  by  any  means  disposed  to  overrule,  without 
careful  inquiry,  that  of  his  brother.  The  con- 
yersation  between  them  was  thus  pursued : 

"Were  there  horses  on  the  trail  found  by 
Wingenund  1" 

"  There  were  not." 

"Were  the  men  many  in  number  1" 

•'  Wingenund  cannot  surely  say ;  the  trail  was 
old  and  beaten;  buffalo  had,  passed  on  it;  of 
fresh  marks  he  could  not  see  many;  more  than 
four,  not  so  many  as  ten." 

"Let  my  brother  point  with  his  finger  to  the 
line  of  the  trail." 

The  youth  slowly  turned,  cast  his  eye  upward 
at  the  sun,  thence  at  the  rocks  overhanging  the 
valley  to  the  northward,  and  then  pointed  stead- 
ily in  a  north-easterly  direction. 

War-Eagle,  well  assured  that  his  own  obser- 
vation had  been  correct,  and  that  he  had  followed 
a  trail  leading  towards  the  north-west,  thus  con- 
tinued :  "  There  are  many  nations  and  bands  of 
Indians  here ;  a  false  light  may  have  shone  on 
the  path.  How  does  my  young  brother  know 
that  the  feet  of  the  Washashe  had  trodden  it  V 

There  was  a  natural  dignity,  without  the 
slightest  touch  of  vanity,  in  the  manner  of  the 
youth,  as  he  replied,  "  The  Great  Spirit  has  giv- 
en eyes  to  Wingenund,  and  he  has  learned  from 
War-Eagle  to  know  the  mocassin  of  a  Washa- 
she from  that  of  a  Dahcotah,  a  Pawnee,  a  Shaw- 
ano, or  a  Maha." 

After  musing  a  moment,  War-Eagle  continued. 
*  Did  my  brother  find  the  foot  of  Olitipa  and  the 
Comanche  girl  on  the  path  V 

"  He  could  not  find  the  mark  of  their  feet,  yet 
he  believes  they  are  on  the  path,"  was  the  un- 
hesitating reply. 

Reginald  and  Ethelston  looked  at  the  speaker 
with  undisguised  astonishment ;  and  War-Ea- 
gle, although  he  could  not  believe  but  what  the 
latter  was  mistaken,  continued  thus  to  question 
him:  "  My  brother's  speech  is  dark;  if  he  could 
find  no  trail  of  the  women,  why  does  he  think 
that  they  are  on  the  path  1  Have  the  Washa- 
she carried  them"?" 

"Not  so,"  replied  Wingenund.  "Twice  the 
trail  crossed  a  soft  bank  of  sand,  where  water 
runs  from  the  mountains  in  winter;  there  were 
the  marks  of  two  who  had  passed  lately,  their 
feet  large  as  those  of  the  warriors,  the  tread  light 
as  that  of  a  woman  or  a  young  boy." 

The  chief  was  very  reluctant  to  say  or  do 
aught  that  might  give  pain  to  his  young  brother, 
■whose  future  success  as  war-leader  of  the  Lena- 
pe  had  ever  been  the  object  of  his  fondest  hopes ; 
but  in  the  urgent  business  in  which  they  were 
now  engaged,  he  felt  that  all  other  considerations 
must  be  secondary  to  the  recovery  of  Olitipa  and 
revenge  on  Mahega  for  the  loss  and  disgrace  in- 
flicted on  the  Lenape. 

"  My  brother  has  eyes  as  sharp  and  feet  as 
light  as  a  panther,"  he  said,  in  a  kindly  tone ; 
"  but  a  trail  in  this  strange  country  may  deceive 
a  man  who  has  been  on  the  warpath  for  t\Veniy 
summers.  The  trail  followed  by  War-Ea2:le 
goes  through  that  small  valley  between  the  hills," 
pointing  to  the  north-west.  "  Atto  was  with  him ; 
they  knew  the  iron  hoof  of  Olitipa's  horse;  they 


found  this  scrap,  torn  from  her  dress  by  a  braru' 
ble  stretching  across  the  path.    Is  my  ^oth< 
satisfied  i" 

As  the  chief  spoke,  he  held  up  before  the  coun- 
cil a  shred  of  a  silk  kerchief,  such  as  none,  cer- 
tainly, except  she  whom  they  sought  was  likely 
to  have  worn  in  that  region.  Again  a  murmur 
of  approbation  ran  through  the  assembly ;  and 
Reginald,  vexed  that  his  young  favourite  should 
have  been  subjected  to  such  a  disappointment, 
looked  towards  him,  in  order  to  see  whether  he 
bore  it  with  equanimity. 

The  countenance  of  Wingenund  underwent 
not  any  change,  save  that  a  quiet  smile  lurkea 
in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  as  he  replied,  "My 
brother  and  Atto  are  both  known  on  the  warpath ; 
their  feet  are  swift,  and  no  lies  are  found  on  their 
lips ;  it  must  be  true  that  they  have  seen  the  hoof- 
print  of  Olitipa's  horse;  it  is  true  that  the  piece 
of  dress  torn  off  by  the  bramble  belonged  to  her. 
Very  cunning  are  the  Washashe  wolves ;  they 
have  tried  to  blind  the  eyes  of  the  Lenape;  they 
have  made  two  paths ;  let  my  brother  follow  that 
which  he  has  found,  and  Wingenund  the  other; 
perhaps  they  join  beyond  the  mountain." 

"There  is  sense  in  what  the  lad  proposes,'' 
said  Bapiiste,  who  had  listened  attentively  hith- 
erto, without  speaking,  and  who  remembered  the 
acuteness  shown  by  Wingenund  near  the  banks 
of  the  Ohio.  "  If  he  is  sure  that  he  has  been  on 
the  Washashe  trail,  'tis  like  enough  they  have 
divided  to  throw  us  off  the  scent ;  they  will  come 
together  again  further  north." 

Again  War-Eagle  mused  in  silence  for  a  few 
minutes;  then  abruptly  turning  towards  Regi- 
nald, he  inquired,  "What  is  th»  thought  of  Ne- 
tis  V 

"  I  think," replied  the  latter,  "that  Wingcnunt' 
would  never  have  spoken  as  he  has  spoken  were 
it  not  that  he  felt  assured  of  all  that  he  said.  I 
would  venture  my  life,  and  what  is  now  far 
dearer  to  me  than  my  life,  on  the  truth  of  his 
words." 

The  youth  looked  gratefully  at  the  speaker 
and  a  smile  of  gratified  pride  stole  over  his  elo 
quent  countenance. 

"  It  is  enough,"  said  War-Eagle  with  dignity: 
"  let  Wingenund  go  upon  his  path ;  he  shall  not 
go  alone.  Which  path  does  my  brother  Neti^i 
choose'?  he  has  heard  all  that  has  been  saidl" 

Reginald  was  sorely  puzzled :  on  one  side 
was  the  sagacious  experience  of  the  chief,  added 
to  the  strong  evidence  afforded  by  the  shred  of 
silk;  on  the  other,  the  confident  assurance  of  a 
youth,  of  whose  diffidence  and  acuteness  he  had 
seen  so  many  proofs.  While  he  was  still  hesi- 
tating, he  saw  the  eyes  of  the  latter  fixed  upon 
him  with  an  earnest,  imploring  expression,  that 
decided  him  at  once. 

"  I  will  go  with  my  young  brother,"  he  said 
firmly  ;  "  Grande-H^che,  Ethelston,  and  six  men 
shall  go  with  us ;  War-Eagle,  with  the  rest  of 
the  party,  shall  go  on  the  large  Washashe  trail 
that  he  has  struck.  Let  the' chief  say  how  we 
shall  meet  beyond  the  mountain  if  either  c<  the 
trails  prove  false." 

"  It  is  good,"  said  War-Eagle ;  "Atto  sna] 
lead  the  warriors  who  go  with  my  white  brothe* 
and  before  the  third  sun  rises  we  will  come  i.. 
gether  again  and  talk  of  what  we  have  seen.' 

Havin?  thus  spoken,  the  chief  waved  his  hand 
to  intimate  that  the  council  was  dissolved;  and 
calling  Wingenund  and  Att5  aside,  he  gave 
them  clear  and  rapid  instructions  as  to  th( 
course  to  be  pursued  m  case  of  the  trails  diver 


4 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD 


13» 


f  mg  to  opposite  quarters,  and  he  established  at 
the  same  time  various  signals,  to  be  used  in 
case  of  necessity. 

Pierre  and  M.  Perrot  asked  and  obtained 
leave  to  join  Reginald's  party;  most  of  the  hor- 
ses and  all  the  spare  baggage  followed  that  of 
War-Eagle,  who'led  them  ofl'  through  the  defile 
in  the  mountains  before  alluded  to,  while  Win- 
genund  led  the  way  to  the  trail  which  he  had 
discovered;  vv^ith  the  light  springy  step  of  an  an- 
telope, and  an  expression  of  bright  confidence  on 
his  countenance,  which  communicated  a  similar 
feeling  to  those  who  might  otherwise  have  been 
disinclined  to  trust  themseh'es  to  the  guidance 
3f  a  youth  on  his  first  war-path. 

While  these  things  were  passing  in  the  allied 
camp,  the  Osage  named  Toweno,  who  had,  it 
may  be  remembered,  been  sent  forward  by  Ma- 
n^ga  to  reconnoitre,  returned  on  the  following 
morning  to  his  chief,  bringing  him  intelligence 
that  the  fires  seen  at  a  distance  were  those  of  a 
numerous  band  of  Upsarokas ;  he  had  crept  near 
enough  to  recognise  them  as  such  by  their  dress, 
the  trappings  of  their  horses,  and  other  indica- 
tions not  to  be  mistaken.  On  receiving  this  in- 
formation, Mahega  revolved  in  his  mind  various 
plans  for  gaining  the  good  will  of  his  dangerous 
neighbours,  and  of  securing  their  alliance  as  a 
protection  against  any  further  hostilities  that 
•might  yet  be  attempted  by  those  in  pursuit  of  his 
trail.  As  he  had  often  before  profited  by  the 
shrewd  advice  of  his  follower,  so  did  he  invite 
him  nov/  to  give  his  opinion  as  to  the  best  course 
to  he  adopted;  and  in  order  that  the  discussion 
might  not  be  overheard,  he  walked  slowly  with 
Toweno  down  a  glade  which  led  towards  the 
Crow  camp. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far.  when  they  saw  a 
fine  bison-cow  coming  directly  towards  them  ; 
from  her  languid  and  crippled  movement,  it  was 
evident  that  she  was  wounded ;  while  from  her 
struggles  to  get  forward,  it  was  equally  clear 
that  she  was  pursued.  The  Osages  lost  not  a 
moment  in  crouching  below  the  cover  of  a  thick 
bush;  and  scarcely  had  they  done  so  when  a 
mounted  Indian  appeared,  urging  his  tired  hrose 
■jp  the  glade  after  the  wounded  cow.  It  hap- 
pened that,  she  fell,  unable  to  proceed  further, 
not  many  yards  from  the  spot  where  Mahega 
was  concealed;  and  her  pursuer  slackening  his 
pace,  approached  leisurely;  and  having  shot 
another  arrow  into  her  side,  dispatched  her  with 
the  long  knife  which  hung  at  his  side. 

He  was  a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  in  the  prime 
of  life,  v.'ith  remarkably  high  cheek  bones,  an 
aquiline  nose,  and  a  mass  of  long  hair  gathered 
er  clubbed  at  the  back  of  his  head ;  his  hunting- 
shin  and  leggins  denoted  by  their  ornaments  a 
warrior  of  rank  in  his  tribe,  and  his  whole  ap- 
pearance and  bearing  were  indicative  of  habitu- 
al authority. 

The  little  steed  which  had  borne  him,  and 
which  in  truth  would  have  been  termed  among 
white  men  a  pony,  stood  panting  beside  its  mas- 
ter, whose  weight  seemed  entirely  dispropor- 
ioned  to  its  size  and  strength ;  and  the  Crow 
.lunter  now  stooped  over  the  bison-cow,  examin- 
:Tig  her  condition  and  her  fat  with  the  attention 
of  a  practised  Indian  gourmand. 

Meanwhile,  half  a  minute  sufficed  for  Mahe- 
ga to  explain  his  intentions  in  a  whisper  to  his 
follower,  and  less  than  half  a  minute  sufficed  to 
carry  them  into  execution.  Rushing  together 
upon  the  Crow  while  he  was  stooping  with  his 
back  towards  them,  they  seized  and  pinioned 


him  before  he  had  time  to  catch  up  his  knife  or 
to  offer  the  least  resistance.  Never  was  there 
an  attack  more  unexpected,  nor  a  victory  more 
easily  obtained;  and  the  discomfited  Crow  look- 
ed upon  his  two  captors  with  an  astonishment 
that  he  could  not  conceal.  Their  dress  and 
tribe  were  altogether  strange  to  him ;  and  the 
scouts  around  the  camp  having  brought  in  no 
report  of  any  suspicious  appearance  or  trail 
having  been  discovered,  it  could  not  be  wondered 
at  if  he  imagined  that  they  must  have  pounced 
upon  him  from  the  clouds. 

As  soon  as  Mahega  had  assured  himself  that 
the  hands  of  the  prisoner  w^ere  securely  tied,  he 
led  him  towards  a  spot  more  sheltered  from  ob- 
servation, Toweno  following  with  the  horse ; 
and  if  the  Crow  felt  at  first  any  uneasiness  re- 
specting their  intentions  towards  him,  it  must 
have  been  soon  dispelled,  as  the  Osage  chief  as- 
sured him,  in  the  language  of  signs,  that  no 
harm  was  intended  to  him,  and  that  he  would 
soon  be  at  libefty. 

After  a  short  consultation  with  Toweno,  the 
chief  determined  to  conduct  the  prisoner  to  his 
camp,  on  reaching  which  his  arms  were  un- 
bound, and  he  was  courteously  invited  to  take  a 
seat  by  his  captors.  The  Crow  obeyed  without 
any  apparent  reluctance,  having  satisfied  him- 
self by  a  hasty  glance  around  that  he  was 
watched  by  several  well-armed  men,  and  that 
any  attempt  at  escape  or  resistance,  must  be  for 
the  present  hopeless  of  success. 

The  pipe  of  peace  having  been  smoked  be- 
tween the  Osage  and  his  prisoner,  some  meat 
and  cakes  were  placed  before  the  latter,  of  which 
he  partook  without  hesitation  ;  but  he  could  not 
resist  casting  sundry  curious  glances  at  the  white 
tent,  wondering  what  it  might  contain :  he  observ- 
ed, also,  the  numerous  packs  and  bales  scattered 
around,  and  thought  within  himself  that,  what- 
ever might  be  his  own  fate,  many  of  these  would, 
ere  long,  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  tribe. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  meal,  Mahega, 
resuming  the  conversation  in  the  language  of 
signs,  explained  to  him  that  he  wished  to  be- 
come friends  with  the  Upsaroka ;  that  he  had 
come  from  very  far  with  few  followers,  having 
fought  with  the  Pale-Faces;  that  the  tent  was 
Great  Medicine,  and  contained  that  which 
brought  wealth  and  good  things  to  friends,  but 
terror  and  misfortunes  to  enemies. 

It  may  be  supposed  that  the  Upsaroka  did 
not,  in  his  present  circumstances,  regret  these 
peaceful  overtures;  on  the  contrar}--,  he  bound 
himself  by  the  most  solemn  promises  to  da 
everything  in  his  power  tovv'ards  establishini^ 
friendship  between  their  respective  tribes,  and 
he  gave  Mahega  to  understand,  by  his  gestures, 
that  he  was  not  without  authority  among  the 
Crows.* 

*  Among  some  of  the  North  American  tribes  it  is  the  cus- 
tom for  an  Indian  entering  into  a  solemn  obligation,  to 
place  his  hand  against  the  thigh  of  the  party  to  whom  he 
makes  the  promise  ;  and  this  usage  has  in  several  instances 
been  triumphantly  quoted  by  those  authors  who  have  la- 
boured to  prove  the  descent  of  the  North  American  Indians 
from  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel.  The  origin  and  meaning  of 
the  custom,  which  is  as  ancient  ?s  the  time  of  Abraham 
fGen.,  xxiv.,  2).  are  both  involved  in  great  obscurity  ;  sun- 
dry explanations  have  been  attempted  by  learned  comme'  "- 
ators  of  different  ages  and  nations  ;  the  .lewish  writings  of 
the  highest  authority,  such  as  the  Targum  of  Jerusalem, 
and  that  of  Jonathan  Ben  Uzziel.  derive  it  from  the  cove- 
nant of  Circujncision,  to  which  they  maintain  its  symbolic 
analogy  t)\«  arguments  which  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  pro- 
duce. Adam  Clarke,  in  his  Commentary,  leans  to  this 
view,  but  does  not  offer  any  conclusive  reasoning  in  su'pport 
of  It.     Bishop  Patrick,  following  the  learned  Calzue*,  d» 


136 


THE   PRAIRIE. BIRD. 


Upon  receiving  this  assurance,  the  Osage 
chiei  suffered  his  prisoner  to  depart,  restoring  to 
him  his  horse,  and  presenting  him  with  several 
trinkets  in  token  of  friendship. 

The  first  use  which  the  latter  made  of  his  re- 
covered liberty,  was  to  invite  Mahega  to  return 
with  him  to  the  Upsaroka  village,  an  invitation 
%vhich,  to  the  surprise  of  his  followers,,  he  accept- 
ed without  hesitation. 

With  a  parting  caution  to  Toweno  to  keep 
his  men  watchful  and  ready  against  a  surprise, 
he  threw  a  battle-robe*  over  his  broad  shoulders, 
and,  armed  with  his  rifle,  tomahawk,  and  knife, 
accompanied  his  new  ally  towards  the  Crow  vil- 
lage. 

On  approaching  it  he  found  that  it  consisted 
of  more  than  a  hundred  lodges,  containing,  prob- 
ably, two  hundred  men,  besides  women  and 
children. 

Great  was  their  surprise  when  they  saw  the 
gigantic  stranger  advancing  with  his  conductor 
towards  the  lodge  of  the  principal  chief,  to  whom 
he  was  nearly  related. 

The  mien  and  bearing  of  the  Osage,  as  he  en- 
tered the  lodge,  were  alone  sufficient  to  secure 
for  him  a  courteous  invitation  to  sit  in  the  place 
of  honour,  while  the  Crow  who  had  been  his 
prisoner  briefly  narrated  to  the  head  chief  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  stranger  visited 
his  camp. 

The  pipe  of  friendship  having  been  smoked 
in  due  form,  the  Crow  chief  whispered  a  few 
words  in  the  ear  of  a  youth  beside  him,  who  dis- 
appeared immediately,  and  the  party  sat  in  si- 
lence until  he  returned,  accompanied  by  an  in- 
dividual whose  appearance  was  singular  in  the 
extreme ;  his  head  was  of  an  enormous  size,  and 
covered  with  black  shaggy  hair;  his  features 
were  coarse  and  forbidding,  nor  was  their  ex- 
pression improvea  oy  a  patch  of  leather  plaster- 
ed over  the  cavity  which  had  once  been  occupi- 
ed by  his  left  eye ;  his  shoulders  were  broad,  and 
his  arms  of  unusual  length,  his  stature  was 
scarcely  five  feet,  and  his  legs  were  bandy,  with 
clumsy  knees  like  those  of  a  buffalo-bull ;  this 
unsightly  ogre  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Besha- 
ro-Kata,  signifying  in  the  Crow  language,  "  the 
little  bison,"  but  he  was  commonly  called  "  Be- 
sha,"  or  the  "Bison,"  the  diminutive  termina- 
tion being  omitted. 

His  origin  was  involved  in  a  mystery  that  nei- 
ther he  nor  any  one  else  could  satisfactoril}'^  ex- 
plain, for  he  had  been  born  in  that  wild  region 
watered  by  the  Arkansas,  and  his  mother,  a 
Comanche  woman,  was  said  to  have  divided 
her  favours,  previous  to  the  birth  of  Besha,  be- 
tween a  half-breed  trader  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a  run- 
away negro  from  one  of  the  southern  slave- 
states;  she  died  while  he  was  yet  an  infant,  and 
as  he  had  never  been  owned  or  claimed  by  either 
of  his  reputed  fathers,  it  was  a  miracle  that  he 
ever  lived  to  manhood. 

In  his  early  years,  he  hovered  about  the  hunt- 
ing parties  of  Osages,  Comanches,  Pani-picas, 
and  other  tribes,  who  frequented  the  region 
where  he  had  been  left  to  shift  for  himself,  and 
at  other  seasons  none  knew  whether  he  lived 
upon  roots,  berries,  and  honey,  or  wandered  to 
tribes  yet   more  remote  from  his   birth-place. 

scribes  Jois  usage  as  an  ancient  si^  of  subjection  and 
homage  prevalent  thniugliout  the  East ;  and  Locke  men- 
tions it  as  beinf^  "  practised  by  some  Indians  to  this  day." 

*  It  is  a  freiiuent  custom  anionof  the  Missouri  Indians  to 
»ketch  upon  the  interior  of  a  liison-robe  the  vai'ious  battles 
kn  whicb  they  have  fought  and  conquered. 


He  was  never  known,  either  in  summer  or  win- 
ter, to  wear  any  other  dress  than  a  bison-skia 
with  the  hair  outwards,  in  the  centre  of  which 
he  cut  a  hole,  and  passing  his  head  through  the 
aperture,  wore  this  uncouth  skin  like  the  Poncha 
of  the  Mexicans.  From  these  early  rambling 
habits,  he  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  many 
Indian  dialects,  and  of  these  the  Osage  was  one 
with  which  he  was  the  mo.st  familiar]  he  enjov- 
ed  a  high  reputation  among  the  Crows,  not  on^y 
from  his  being  often  useful  as  an  interpreter,  but 
because  he  was,  without  exception,  the  most 
skilful  horse-stealerin  the  whols  region  between 
the  Arkansas  and  the  mountains.  He  was  als6 
deeply  versed  in  the  knowledge  of  all  the  prop- 
erties of  plants,  roots,  and  herbs,  so  much  so 
that,  unless  fame  -wronged  him,  more  than  one 
of  his  enemies  had  died  by  the  agency  of  subtle 
poison.  Such  was  the  personage,  who  fixing 
his  single  cunning  eye  upon  Mah6ga,  inquired, 
on  the  part  of  the  Crows,  his  object  in  paying 
them  a  visit.  The  conversation,  rendered  into 
English,  was  in  substance  as  follows: 

Besha.  "  Has  the  Washashe  come  to  hunt  and 
trap  among  the  Stony  Mountains  T' 

Mahega.  "He  has  not;  he  has  come  towards 
the  setting  sun  because  the  enemies  on  his  patL 
were  too  many  for  him — he  wished  for  peace." 

B.  "Has  the  Washashe  a  name  in  his 
tribe  1" 

M.  "He  has  a  name;  when  the  war-post  is 
struck,  Mahega  is  not  silent,"  said  >te  chiel, 
haughtily. 

B.  "  Mahega !"  repeated  the  horse-stealer,  to 
whom  the  name  was  evidently  not  unknown. 
"  Mahega,  the  Red-hand  ! — does  he  wander  so 
far  from  his  village  V 

M.  "  He  wanders,  but  there  is  Great  Medi- 
cine in  his  lodge;  blood  has  been  on  his  path, 
and  his  enemies  do  not  laugh." 

B.  "  Who  are  the  men  with  whom  Mahega 
has  dug  up  the  hatchet  1" 

M.  "  Pale-faces,  and  cowardly  Red-skins, 
who  are  their  friends." 

When  this  reply  was  translated,  a  great  sen- 
sation was  visible  among  the  Crows,  several  of 
whom  whispered  together.  After  receiving  a 
few  instructions  from  the  Chief,  Besha  proceed- 
ed with  his  inquiry. 

"  Are  the  Pale-faces  on  the  trail  of  Mahega  1" 

M.  "  They  are." 

B.  "  How  many  T 

M.  "  Mahega  does  not  know. 

B.  "  Is  there  a  pale-faced  warrior  with  them, 
young,  and  tall,  riding  a  dark  horse,  very  swili 
and  strong  V 

M.  "  There  is,"  said  the  Osage,  astonished  in 
his  turn  at  hearing  Reginald  thus  accurately  de- 
scribed by  the  interpreter. 

Again  there  v/as  a  murmur  and  coDsultation 
among  the  Crows,  after  which  Besha  thus  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  What  is  the  wish  of  Mahega  1  the  Upsaro- 
ka  ears  are  open." 

M.  "  He  wishes  to  make  friends  with  them, 
to  join  his  strength  to  theirs,  to  drive  these  Pale- 
face thieves  out  of  the  Crow  country.  Mahega's 
warriors  are  few,  but  they  are  not  squaws;  his 
hands  are  not  empty ;  he  has  presents  for  the 
chiefs,  and  he  will  not  forget  the  interpreter."* 
He  added,  sinking  his  voice  almost  to  a  whis- 
per :  "  He  has  many  things,  enough  to  make 
the  tribe  rich,  hid  in  a  cave  far  to  the  south  ;  if 
the  Crow  will  be  his  brother,  he  shall  find  that 
Mahega  has  an  open  hand." 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


137 


The  cunning  chief  was  aware  of  the  thieving 
ropensities  of  the  Upsaroka,  and  he  purposely 
hrew  out  this  last  hint  that  they  might  be  indu- 
ced to  spare  his  baggage,  in  the  hope  of  ulti- 
mately possessing  themselves  of  the  more  im- 
portant treasure  in  his  "cache."  Nor  was  his 
stratagem  without  effect,  for  the  discovery  and 
possession  of  the  contents  of  that  cache  became 
forthwith  the  principal  object  of  the  Crow  cliief ; 
and  the  readiest  mode  of  attaining  it  was  to 
make  friends  with  the  party  who  could  alone 
guide  him  to  it. 

Fortune  had  in  this  instance  been  more  pro- 
pitious to  Mahega  than  he  deserved,  for,  as  the 
reader  has  probably  conjectured,  he  had  fallen 
in  with  that  very  Upsaroka  band,  a  detachment 
of  which  had  been  so  roughly  handled  a  few 
days  before  by  Reginald  Brandon  and  the  Del- 
awares  under  his  command. 

The  high  contracting  parties  being  thus  united 
by  the  strong  ties  of  avarice,  and  revenge  against 
a  common  enemy,  an  offensive  and  defensive  al- 
liance was  entered  into  immediately.  Mahega 
soon  discovered  the  motive  which  impelled  his 
new  friends  so  strongly  to  espouse  his  cause, 
and  was  thereby  satisfied  that,  for  the  present  at 
least,  he  might  trust  them.  Before  nightfall,  the 
white  tent  of  Prairie-bird  was  pitched  at  the 
edge  of  the  Upsaroka  camp,  and  the  Osages  took 
up  their  quarters  around  it,  so  that  none  could 
leave  or  enter  it  unperceived  by  them. 

Early  on  the  following  rtiorning  Mahgae  re- 
ceived a  visit  from  the  Crow  chief,  who,  accom- 
panied by  Besha,  came  ostensibly  to  show  him 
courtesy,  but  in  reality  to  inspect  his  packages, 
horses,  men,  and  equipments ;  and,  if  possible, 
to  solve  the  mystery  of  the  Great  Medicine  in 
the  white  tent.  The  Osage  warriors,  strong, 
weather-beaten  men,  every  one  provided  with  a 
rifle  in  addition  to  the  usual  arms  of  an  Indian, 
had  no  reason  to  fear  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  the 
Crow;  indeed,  the  latter  began  already  to  cal- 
culate how  he  might  best  avail  himself  of  their 
aid  in  an  expedition  which  he  meditated  against 
his  hereditary  engmies,  the  Black-Feet. 

After  the  pipe  had  been  smoked,  and  food  set 
before  his  guests,  Mahega  desired  one  of  the 
smaller  packages  to  be  opened,  from  which  he 
selected  a  blanket,  and  spreading  upon  it  vari- 
ous beads  and  trinkets,  presented  the  whole,  in 
token  of  friendship,  to  the  Upsaroka  chief,  who 
seemed  highly  delighted  with  the  gift. 
.  His  expressions  of  gratitude,  conveyed  through 
Besha,  were  unbounded.  He  did  not,  however, 
think  it  requisite  to  express,  at  the  same  time, 
his  vehement  desire  to  become  the  possessor  of 
all  the  goods  and  chattels  belonging  to  the  Osage ; 
neither  did  the  latter  forget  to  propitiate  the  in- 
terpreter, whom  he  presented  with  a  knife,  and 
ornamented  sheath,  both  of  which  were  gra- 
ciously accepted. 

The  Crow  was  resolved  not  to  leave  the  spot 
until  he  had  solved  the  enigma  of  the  mysterious 
tent;  and  finding  that  his  guest  still  kept  silence 
on  the  subject,  he  directed  Besha  to  use  his  best 
exertions  towards  the  gratification  of  his  curi- 
osity. An  opportunity  being  afforded  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Lita,  who  went  out  to  draw  some 
water  from  the  stream,  the  interpreter  inquired 
whether  that  woman  was  the  "  Great  Medicine," 
of  which  he  had  spoken. 
Mahega,  who  was  desirous  of  impressing  the 


Besha.  "Is  the  Great  Medicine  a  cnief-— a 
wise  man?" 

Mahrga.  "  No :  it  is  in  the  form  of  a  woman ; 
but  its  power  is  very  great.  It  talks  with  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  the  Wahconda*  listens  to  its 
speech !" 

Besha.  "  Many  are  the  medicine-men  whc 
talk  with  the  Great  Spirit ;  they  see  dreams,  and 
give  counsel  to  the  warriors  and  chiefs ;  there  is 
no  new  Medicine  here." 

"  My  brother  speaks  truth,"  said  the  Osage, 
smiling  scornfully.  "But  if  the  medicine-men 
of  the  Upsaroka  call  to  the  sun,  will  he  come  out 
of  his  path,  or  hide  his  face  at  their  words  V 

Having  thus  spoken,  Mahega  lowered  his 
voice,  as  if  afraid  of  being  overheard  by  the  mys- 
terious tenant  of  the  tent,  and  related  to  the  won- 
dering Besha  the  circumstances  attending  the 
late  eclipse. 

The  interpreter  having  given  the  explanation 
to  his  chief,  they  looked  at  each  other  in  speech- 
less astonisiimeot ;  for  not  only  was  there  an  air 
of  truth  in  the  statement  of  Mahega,  but  the 
Crows  having  themselves  observed  the  mystery 
of  the  darkened  sun,  were  thereby  led  to  listen 
with  believing  awe  to  the  wonderful  disclosure 
made  by  the  ^sage. 

Perceiving  his  advantage,  the  latter  again  re- 
lapsed into  silence,  which  was  broken,  after  a  few 
minutes,  by  the  interpreter,  who  inquired,  on  the 
part  of  his  chief,  whetlier  the  Great  Medicine  ol 
the  tent  would  receive  a  present  from  him.  To 
this  the  cautious  Osage  replied,  that  the  daughter 
of  the  Unknown  cared  not  for  the  things  belong- 
ing to  other  women  ;  but  that  her  smile  and  her 
good  words  would  bring  prosperity  to  those  with 
whom  she  dwelt,  while  her  curse  would  ensure 
their  destruction ;  on  which  account  it  would  not 
do  any  harm  if  the  Upsaroka  were  to  offer  a  pres- 
ent to  her  Medicine. 

The  latter  now  finding  that,  during  this  visit 
at  least,  his  curiosity  would  not  be  gratified  by  a 
sight  of  the  mysterious  dweller  in  the  tent,  arose 
and  took  a  courteous  leave  of  the  Osage  chief, 
who  remained  for  some  time  ruminating  abstract- 
edly over  his  future  plans,  and  the  probability  of 
their  ultimate  success. 

Scarcely  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  ere  Besha 
returned,  accompanied  by  two  young  Indians,  one 
of  whom  led  a  wild  horse,  which  he  presented  on 
the  part  of  his  chief  to  Mahega;  and  the  other 
was  the  bearer  of  a  large  package  of  beaver-skins 
of  the  finest  quality,  which  he  laid  down  at  the 
door  of  the  tent,  and  retired,  casting  back  uneasy 
glances,  apparently  relieved  at  having  safely  ex- 
ecuted a  commission  fraught  with  danger. 

Mahega  presented  each  of  the  youths  with  a 
handsome  knife,  and  Besha  with  a  mirror,  where- 
in he  contemplated  his  cyclopean  countenance 
with  undisguised  satisfaction ;  so  long,  indeed, 
did  he  continue  this  admiring  self-inspection,  that 
the  two  young  Crows  left  him  engaged  in  it,  and 
returned  to  their  quarters. 

They  had  not  been  long  gone  before  the  inter- 
preter commenced  a  confidential  conversation 
with  the  Osage  chief,  during  which  each  endeav- 
oured, with  little  success  on  either  side,  to  over- 
reach the  other;  at  the  same  time,  the  conference 
was  not  without  its  satisfactory  issue  to  both  par- 


*  As  the  Great  Spirit  is  desig-nated  by  the  Datawares, 
Chippeways,  S^lds,  and  other  tribes  on  this  side  of  tho 

^    _  J  tj  Mississippi  by  tlie  name  of  "  Manitt6,"  or  "  Manitou,"  I'a- 

Crows  \vith  a  due  respect  for  Prairie-bird,  shook  i  °"1'^''  '"  ''^''"'y  '"'"'^'^^  °J  Transatlantic  travel  or  romance, 

his  head,  replying,  ''That  is  the  slave  of  the  I '°*' ^'-''"'™" ''™°°' '>'?''?''' "'"'''^^''--?^*^'' ^'■'^ 


^  ,,    ,^.^P'y*"?'    "'•'■'hat  is   the   slave   of  the  Lfher  Missouri  tribes,  by  the  designation  ofW-.^ 

Great  Medicme."  [or  "  Master  of  Life." 


(38 


THE   PRARIE-BIRD. 


ties;  for  MahC-ga  ascertained  that  the  Crows 
viewed  the  mixed  band  of  Whites  and  Delawares 
with  leelings  as  hostile  as  his  own,  and  that  they 
were  as  deeply  impressed  as  he  could  desire  with 
awe  for  the  m3'slerious  powers  of  Prariebird. 
On  the  other  hand,  Besha  satisfied  himself  that 
nis  own  services  wouUl  be  almost  indispensable 
to  the  Osage,  and  that  the  latter  was  neither  un- 
willing nor  unable  to  reward  them  liberally;  so 
that  after  a  complimentary  conversation  of  some 
eiigth,  these  two  rogues  parted,  with  many  ex- 
pressions of  mutual  regard  and  esteem. 

Scarcely  was  the  interpreter  out  of  sight,  when 
Mahega  sprung  from  the  ground  to  examine  more 
clostdy  the  steed  presented  to  him  by  the  Crow 
chief  It  was  a  strong,  high-mettled  bay  colt,  un- 
tamed, and  almost  untameable ;  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  the  latter  had  given  it  to  his  guest  because 
neither  he  nor  any  of  his  warriors  could  subdue 
its  violent  and  vicious  spirit,  although  the  Crows 
are  renowned  among  the  Indian  nations  as  bold 
and  expert  horsemen. 

On  whatever  side  Mahega  endeavoured  to  ap- 
proach to  mount  it,  the  horse  struck  fiercely  at 
him,  using  both  hind  and  fore  feet  with  equal  ra- 
pidity; but  the  Osage,  penetrating  at  once  the 
motives  of  the  Crow'sliberality,  smiled  in  disdain 
of  the  shallow  trick,  and,  seizing  his  opportuni- 
ty, threw  himself  upon  the  wild,  unsaddled  ani- 
mal, despite  of  whose  furious  plunging  and  re- 
sistance, he  sat  unmoved  like  a  centaur ;  and  ply- 
ing his  whip  and  heel  with  unmitigated  severity, 
compelled  it  to  gallop  at  full  speed  over  the  prai- 
rie, until  he  thought  fit  to  bring  it  back  to  the 
camp,  wearied,  breathless,  and  subdued.  Then 
throwing  the  halter  to  one  of  his  men,  he  quietly 
jesumed  his  pipe,  leaving  the  Crow  chief  and  his 
people  to  draw  their  own  conclusions  from  what 
they  had  seen. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV.' 

Containing  various  incidents  that  occurred  to  the  part)' 
following  the  Trail. — Plots  and  Counterplots,  and  a  dis- 
cussion upon  Oratory,  which  is  very  much  out  of 
place,  and,  fortunately  for  the  reader,  is  not  very  long. 

There  is  scarcely  any  position  or  occasion  in 
life  more  gratifying  to  a  young  and  generous 
spirit,  than  when  it  finds  itself,  for  the  first  time, 
entrusted  with  a  high  responsibility.  The  elas- 
tic mind,  far  from  succumbing  under  the  un- 
wonted burden,  springs  upward  with  increased 
vigour  to  resist  its  pressure  ;  and  the  trials  and 
difficulties  which  threaten  to  overwhelm  it,  only 
serve  to  call  forth  and  multiply  its  energies. 
Such  was  the  case  v/ith  Wingenund,  who  now 
found  himself,  although  not  yet  seventeen  years 
of  age,  leading  a  gallant  hand  on  a  trail, — a  task 
which  is  at  all  times  the  greatest  trial  of  an  In- 
dian warrior's  skill ;  and,  if  successful,  lays  the 
foundation  of  his  fame.  The  issue  at  stake  was, 
in  this  instance,  heightened  by  the  importance 
of  the  object  to  be  attained,  and  by  the  remark- 
able circumstance  that  he  had  ventured  to  differ 
from,  and  overrule,  the  opinion  of  hid  elder 
brother,  the  most  sagacious  warrior  of  the  tribe. 

Fully  impressed  with  the  serious  responsibili- 
ty that  he  had  incurred,  the  yoith  set  forth 
upon  the  trail  with  a  gravity  of  demeanour 
which  contrasted  strongly  with  his  almost  boy- 
ish years.  Yet,  while  his  keen  eye  darted  from 
point  to  point,  suffering  not  a  blade  of  grass  to 


escape  its  scrutiny,  his  countenance  wore  a 
beaming  look  of  confidence,  that  imparted  its 
cheering  influence  to  the  whole  party. 

For  some  hours  he  marched  rapidly  forward 
with  the  assured  step  of  a  man  who  was  tread- 
ing a  familiar  path.  Atto  followed  at  no  great 
distance,  next  to  vvhom,  on  the  trail,  came  Regi- 
nald, with  Ethelston,  13aptiste,  and  the  othfir 
Whites,  the  line  being  closed  by  the  Delawares,  , 
who  brought  up  the  rear.  It  may  easily  lie 
imagined  that  Reginald  bent  his  eyes  anxiously 
on  the  path  ;  but  although  frequent  traces  were 
discernible  of  the  passage  of  men,  as  well  as  of 
various  animals,  he  could  not  discover  the  slight- 
est indication  of  the  marks  for  which  he  looked  ; 
neither  did  the  observation  of  the  more  experi- 
enced Baptists  meet  with  any  better  success. 

When  Wingenund  reached  the  streamlet,  on 
the  sandy  edge  of  which  he  had  before  noticed 
the  light  tread  of  a  foot,  which  in  spite  of  its  di- 
mension, he  believed  to  be  that  of  Prairie-bird 
or  her  attendant,  he  halted  the  party,  and  sum- 
moned Atto  to  a  close  examination  of  the  trail. 
Stooping  over  it,  the  Indian  looked  long  and 
earnestly,  after  which  he  shook  his  head,  as  if 
dissatisfied,  and  muttering  a  few  words,  the 
meaning  of  which  Baptiste  was  not  near  enough 
to  catch.  Wingenund  made  no  reply,  and  cross- 
ing the  brook,  resumed  the  trad  on  its  opposite 
bank. 

"Does  Atto  find  the  mark  of  women's  feet  on 
the  sand  1"  inquired  Baptiste. 

"  He  is  not  sure;  bison  have  passed  over  the 
marks,  and  trodden  them,"  was  the  evasive  re- 
ply, and  the  party  proceeded  on  the  track. 

Nothing  of  any  importance  occured  for  some 
time  to  enliven  the  tedium  of  the  march.  The 
sanguine  hopes  of  Reginald  had  been  checked 
by  what  had  fallen  from  Atto,  of  whose  acute- 
ness  he  justly  entertained  a  high  opinion.  Ethel- 
ston seemed  buried  in  deep  reflection  ;  and  even 
the  comic  sallies  of  Monsieur  Perrot  failed  to 
excite  any  mirth  in  those  to  whom  they  were 
addressed. 

"  Ethelston,  I  fear  that  I  acted  imprudently," 
said  his  friend,  in  a  low  voice,  "  when  I  preferred 
the  counsel  of  this  youth  to  the  more  experienced 
opinion  of  War-Eagle  ;  yet  there  was  something 
in  his  iTianner  that  I  could  not  resist." 

"  Doubtless,"  replied  Ethelston,  "  the  counsel 
of  the  elder  warrior  was  entitled  to  the  greater 
weight ;  and  yet  I  do  not  think  that  he  would 
himself  have  placed  this  detachment  under  the 
guidance  of  Wingenund,  unless  he  felt  sure  that 
the  latter  had  strong  grounds  fi)r  the  tenacity 
with  which  he  clung  to  his  opinion." 

"  I  would  willingly  peril  my  life  on  his  truth 
and  fidelity,"  said  Reginald.  "The  question  is, 
whether  on  this  occasion  he  may  not  have  been 
led  into  some  error  by  the  very  eagerness  of  his 
wishes,  and  the  ardour  of  his  temperament." 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  these  words,  when 
Wingenund  stooped  to  pick  up  a  small  object 
which  his  quick  eye  had  caught  beside  the  raU, 
in  another  minute  he  placed  it  in  the  hand  of 
Reginald,  while  a  triumphant  smile  lit  up  his 
animated  features.  The  object  referred  to  was 
a  slip  of  folded  paper,  damp  with  the  dew  which 
had  fallen  upon  it.  Reginald  opened  its  folds, 
then  gazed  upon  it  in  silence,  with  a  fixed  look, 
like  one  in  a  trace,  while  his  powerful  frame 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.     The  paroxysm  of 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


139 


excitement  lasted  only  but  for  a  moment,  then 
putting  the  slip  of  paper  into  the  hand  of  Ethel- 
Btofi,  he  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  Winge- 
nund  ;  and,  if  a  tear  escaped  him,  it  fell  unseen 
upon  the  bosom  which  he  pressed  with  grateful 
aflection  to  his  heart. 

Meanwhile  Ethelston  made  himself  master  of 
the  secret  which  had  produced  an  effect  so  sud- 
den, as  to  cause  the  greatest  astonishment  in  the 
whole  party,  now  gathered  round  to  ascertain 
what  had  happened.  He  had  read  on  the  slip 
the  magical  word  "  Follow,"  written  in  a  distinct 
legible  hand,  and  every  doubt  as  to  the  Prairie- 
bird  having  passed  along  the  trail  vanished  in  an 
instant.  This  was  no  sooner  made  known  to 
the  hunters,  and  by  Baptiste  to  the  Delawares, 
than  a  shout  of  triumph  from  the  whole  party 
roused  Reginald  from  the  momentary  weakness 
into  which  he  had  been  betrayed. 

"Follow  thee  !"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  holding 
the  paper  in  his  left  hand,  and  grasping  a  rifle  in 
his  right ;  "  Follow  thee,  dearest  one  !  yes,  over 
prairie  and  mountain,  through  valley  and  river, 
in  cold  or  in  heat,  in  hunger  or  thirst,  there  are 
those  here  who  will  never  ceas,e  to  follow  thee, 
until  thou  art  set  free,  and  the  injuries  done  to 
thyself  and  thy  kindred  dearly  avenged  !" 

Again   a  shout  of  sympathetic  enthusiasm 

broke  from  the  party,  as  they  caught  the  words 

of  their  leader,  and  read  on  his  glowing  counte- 

jiance  the  intense  ardour  of  feelings,  too  strong 

to  be  repressed. 

What  must  have  been,  in  the  meantime,  the 
sensations  of  the  Delaware  youth  1  The  affec- 
tionate yearnings  of  his  heart  towards  his  adopt- 
ed brother,  his  deep  anxiety  for  his  sister's  fate, 
his  future  fame  as  the  rising  war-chief  of  his 
tribe,  all  these  combined  together  to  swell  the 
triumph  of  the  hour;  yet  there  was  not  visible 
in  his  features  the  slightest  appearance  of  grati- 
fied pride  or  vanity  ;  and  if  his  dark  eye  beamed 
with  a  brighter  lustre,  it  was  not  so  much  with 
self-congratulation  at  what  he  had  done,  as  with 
high  aspirations  for  the  glorious  task  before  him. 

Ethelston,  who  had  watched  him  closely,  was 
surprised  at  his  calm,  unmoved  demeanour,  and 
whispered  to  Baptiste,  "  Wingenund  evinces  lit- 
tle anxiety  or  emotion  on  this  occasion  ;  and  yet 
this  undoubted  token  which  he  has  found  on  the 
trail  must  be  a  great  triuttiph  to  him,  after  the 
doubts  expressed  by  so  many  warriors  of  great- 
er experience." 

'•  It's  partly  the  natur',  and  partly  the  train- 
in'  of  the  boy,"  replied  the  Guide,  leaning  on  his 
long  rifle  ;  the  stronger  his  feelings  the  less  will 
he  show  'em  to  another  man.  I  reckon  this  has 
been  one  of  the  proudest  moments  in  his  life, 
yet,  as  you  say,  he  looks  almost  as  if  he'd  no- 
thin'  to  do  with  the  matter ;  and  he'd  look  the 
same  if  the  Osages  were  pinchin'  his  flesh  with 
hot  tongs.  Wingenund  is  three  years  older  now 
f  han  he  was  last  month  !" 

"  You  are  right,  Baptiste,"  replied  Ethelston  ; 
;"it  is  not  days,  nor  weeks,  nor  months,  but 
rough  trials,  brave  deeds,  and  deep  feelings  that 
make  up  the  calendar  of  human  life." 

So  saying,  he  sighed,  an«l  musingly  resumed 
his  place  in  the  line  of  march,  remembering  in 
how  short  a  space  of  time  Nina's  unrequited 
love  had,  while  she  was  still  younger  than  the 
.•ad  of  whom  he  was  speaking,  consigned  her, 
wasted  and  heart-broken,  to  the  grave. 


Again  Wingenund  moved  swiftly  forward  on 
the  trail,  and  the  whole  parly  followed,  their 
hopes  excited,  and  their  spirits  raised  by  the 
occurrence  above  related.  Reginald  walked  si- 
lently on,  still  clasping  in  his  hand  the  magic 
token  which  had  conjured  up  hopes  and  thoughts 
too  deep  for  utterance.  From  time  to  time  hia 
lips  unconsciously  murmured  "Follow!"  and 
then  the  idea  shot  like  fire  through  his  brain, 
that  all  his  power  to  obey  the  dear  behest  hung 
upon  the  sagacity  of  the  youth  who  was  n^vv 
tracing  the  steps  of  an  enemy,  skilled  in  all  the 
wiles  of  Indian  warfare,  and  whose  object  it 
clearly  was  to  baffle  pursuit. 

Before  the  close  of  day  the  watcnful  perse- 
verance of  Wingenund  was  again  rewarded  by 
finding  another  of  the  slips  of  paper  dropped  by 
Prairie-bird,  which  he  brought,  as  kiefore,  to 
Reginald.  The  magic  "  Follow"  again  met  his 
longing  eyes ;  and  as  he  announced  it  to  the 
rest  of  the  party,  a  joyful  anticipation  of  success 
pervaded  every  breast. 

After  a  brief  consultation  with  Atto,  Winge- 
nund now  resolved  to  halt  for  the  night,  as  the 
increasing  darkness  rendered  it  impossible  any 
longer  to  distinguish  the  trail  with  accuracy ; 
so  the  horses  were  picketed,  the  succession  of 
sentries  arranged,  and  the  party  bivouacked 
under  the  shelter  of  two  enormous  pines,  where 
the  preparations  for  a  substantial  supper  were 
soon  completed,  Monsieur  Perrot  taking  charge 
of  that  destined  for  Reginald  and  Ethelston, 
while  Bearskin  and  the  other  hunters  prepared 
a  meal  for  themselves  and  the  Delawares  apart. 
Wingenund  was  about  to  join  the  latter  party ; 
but  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  two  friends,  he  ^ 
placed  himself  beside  them,  Baptiste  being  in- 
vited to  sit  down  with  them  also. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  the  conversation 
turned  chiefly  upon  the  all-engrossing  subject  •■ 
of  the  pursuit  in  which  they  were  engaged;  and 
Ethelston  was  struck  by  the  change  which  he 
observed  in  the  demeanour  of  Wingenund ;  for 
the  latter  had  now  put  off  the  gravity  and  some- 
what haughty  bearing  of  the  aspiring  warrior, 
and  had  resumed  the  playful  and  touching  sim- 
plicity of  manner  that  was  natural  to  his  years, 
and  accorded  equally  well  with  the  almost  femr- 
nine  delicacy  of  his  features,  and  the  soft  mehi- 
dy  of  his  voice.  He  took  no  pains  to  conceiil 
the  pleasure  with  which  he  received  the  warB-< 
and  sincere  encomium  that  Reginald  passe>^ 
upon  the  patience  and  sagacity  that  he  had  dia 
played  in  his  arduous  task. 

"  Netis  owes  me  no  thanks,"  he  said,  smiling 
"  Love  for  my  sister  and  revenge  on  the  Wash 
ashees,  who  like  cowards  and  false  friends  slevj 
my  kindred, — these  lead  me  on  the  trail." 

"  It  is  not  your  eagerness,  nor  the  strength 
of  your  motives  that  I  call  in  question,  deal 
Wingenund ;  but  I  am  surprised  that  you  are 
able  to  follow  so  slight  a  trail  without  being  de- 
ceived by  the  tricks  and  devices  of  the  Osage." 

"  The  Black  Father  has  often  told  me  th.il 
among  the  southern  men  there  are  dogs  whu 
can  follow  the  foot  of  a  man  by  day  or  night, 
and  will  never  leave  the  scent  till  they  seize 
him.  If  an  antelope  is  wounded,  the  wolf  will 
hunt  the  track  of  her  blood  on  the  prairie  till  he 
finds  her  ;  if  a  bison  is  killed,  turkey-buzzards* 
many  in  number,  fly  from  far  to  the  carcase, 
though  there  is  no  trail  in  the  air  for  them  to 


140 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


follow.  Is  it  wonderful  that  the  Great  Spirit 
should  bestow  on  the  son  of  his  ancient  people 
a  gift  enjoyed  by  these  beasts  and  fowls?" 

"  What  you  say  is  true,"  replied  Reginald, 
"yet  certainly  we  who  live  in  settlements  have 
not  these  faculties ;  at  least  we  have  them  in  a 
v'fry  inferior  degree." 

"  The  wise  men  of  our  nation  have  always 
said  that  the  eyes  and  ears  of  white  men  are 
not  good  ;  but  the  Black  Father  says  that  their 
speech  is  not  true,  for  that  the  Great  Spirit  has 
made  the  cars  and  eyes  of  red  and  white  men 
alike,  only  the  Palefaces  do  not  improve  them 
as  we  do  by  use." 

"  Your  Black  Father  may  say  what  he  likes," 
Interposed  Baptiste,  "  but  I  maintain  that  the 
ears  of  a  white  man  are  no  more  like  the  ears 
of  a  real  Ingian  than  the  paws  of  a  bear  are  like 
the  legs  of  an  antelope.  I  remember,  though 
it's  now  some  twenty  years  ago,  I  was  out  on  a 
hunt  in  the  North  with  a  Delaware  comrade ; 
he  was  called  in  the  tribe  '  The-man-who-hears- 
from-far ;' — to  say  truth,  I  thought  he  often  pre- 
tended to  hear  things  that  never  happened,  only 
just  to  keep  up  his  name.  We  had  walked  all 
the  morning,  and  having  killed  an  elk,  sat  down 
to  cook  it  on  the  prairie.  All  at  once  he  held 
up  his  finger  for  me  to  keep  silence  ;  and  turn- 
ing his  head  to  listen,  his  countenance  changed 
and  his  ear  pricked  up  like  that  of  a  scared  doe. 
Nay,  Master  Reginald,  you  need  not  smile,  for 
it's  as  true  as  a  gun-barrel ;  and  said  I, '  What's 
the  matter  nowl'  He  made  no  answer,  but 
went  a  little  way  off;  and  lying  down,  put  the 
side  of  his  head  to  the  ground.  He  soon  re- 
turned, and  told  me  that  a  '  big  canoe  was  com- 
ing over  the  lake.'  '  What,'  said  I,  '  over  that 
lake  we  passed  this  morning  beyond  those  high 
woods  V  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  '  the  same  ;  I  hear 
tihe  paddles  dip  in  the  water.'  I  laughed  in  his 
face,  and  told  him  he  was  dreaming;  for  the 
lake  was,  maybe,  two  miles  off;  but  he  declared 
that  he  had  heard  the  paddles  as  plain  as  he  now 
heard  my  voice.  I  tried  to  listen,  but  could  not 
hear  a  sound  ;  however,  I  knew  that  if  he  was 
right,  the  canoe  would  be  full  of  enemies,  seein' 
that  we  had  no  particular  friends  then  in  the 
Dahcotah  country,  and  I  thought  it  better  to  be- 
lieve him  for  once  ;  so  we  put  more  sticks  on  the 
fire,  to  make  as  great  a  smoke  as  we  could,  and 
then  ran  off  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  where  a  big  pine- 
tree  grew  ;  and  as  it  was  about  half  way  between 
the  fire  and  the  lake,  we  clomb  in  among  its 
branches,  where  we  could  have  a  good  look-out 
on  both.  We  remained  some  time  without  hear- 
ing or  seeing  anything  ;  and  I  began  to  conceive 
that  my  comrade  had  made  a  fool  of  me,  as  well 
as  of  himself,  when  we  saw  five  or  six  Sioux 
devils  peep  out  of  the  brush  at  the  edge  of  the 
prairie,  where  they  pointed  to  the  smoke  that 
rose  from  our  fire,  and  began  to  creep  cautious- 
ly towards  it." 

At  this  point  the  narrative  of  the  Guide  was 
unexpectedly  interrupted  by  a  sharp  cry  uttered 
Dy  Monsieur  Perrot,  who  jumped  up  from  his 
seat,  and  capered  like  a  harlequin,  making  at  the 
same  time  the  most  doleful  grimaces  and  ejacu- 
lations. Wingenund  was  the  first  to  perceive 
and  to  explain  to  Reginald  the  cause  of  the  un- 
fortunate valet's  distress,  in  doing  which  he 
\aughed  with  such  hearty  inexpressible  mirth, 
!b&t  the  tears  started  from  his  eyes. 


It  appeared  that  Monsieur  Perrot,  in  his  anx- 
iety to  hear  Baptiste"s  adventure,  had  uncon- 
sciously edged  himself  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
fire,  by  the  side  of  which  was  a  small  pile  of 
dry  burrs  and  prickly  adhesive  twigs;  while 
sitting  upon  these,  and  listening  intently  to  the 
narrative,  they  had  become  accidentally  ignited, 
and  not  only  burnt  him  as  he  sat,  hut  adhejed 
to  his  nether  garments  when  he  jumped  up, 
where  they  continued  to  crackle  and  smoke  iii 
spite  of  the  efforts  which  he  made  to  disengage 
himself  from  them.  To  add  to  his  terror,  he  re- 
membered at  this  critical  juncture  that  there 
was  a  powder-flask  in  the  hinder  pocket  of  his 
jacket ;  a  circumstance  which  he  communicated 
to  his  master  with  renewed  exclamations,  and 
unavailing  attempts  to  rid  himself  of  the  dan- 
gerous magazine.  On  hearing  this,  Ethelston 
emptied  a  vessel  full  of  water  over  a  blanket 
that  lay  beside  him,  in  which  he  immediately 
enveloped  the  alarmed  valet,  and  by  this  ready 
application  of  one  element  freed  him  from  the 
more  serious  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the 
other. 

As  soon  as  the  gravity  of  the  party  was  io 
some  degree  restored,  Reginald  requested  the 
Guide  to  conclude  the  narrative  which  had  been 
so  unexpectedly  interrupted,  expressing  at  the 
same  time  his  curiosity  to  learn  how  Baptiste 
and  his  comrade  had  extricated  themselves  from 
their  unpleasant  position  among  the  branches 
of  the  pine-tree. 

"Why,  you  see,  Master  Reginald,  as  soon  as 
they  were  fairly  busied  in  making  their  way  to 
the  fire  which  we  had  left  burning,  we  slipped 
down  the  tree,  and  struck  into  the  wood,  where 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  their  back-trail  to 
the  lake,  and  creeping  cautiously  towards  the 
shore,  we  found  that  the  hot-headed  fools  had 
left  no  one  to  watch  their  canoe,  which  we  spied 
under  the  boughs  of  an  alder  that  hung  over  the 
leke ;  so  we  just  stuck  a  piece  of  stick  in  the 
ground,  with  a  Delaware  mark  on  it  to  vex  'em 
on  their  return,  when  we  paddled  away  to  the 
other  side  ;  and  having  bored  two  holes  in  the 
canoe,  and  broken  the  paddles,  we  went  on  our 
way ;  and  since  that  time  I've  always  held  my 
own  opinion  about  an  Indian's  ears,  and  I'm  not 
likely  to  change  it  now."  ' 

Whether  the  Guide's  story  wa.~  tedious,  or 
that  the  fatigues  of  the  day  had  produced  their 
effects  upon  his  hearers,  certain  it  is,  that  soon 
after  its  conclusion  both  the  ears  and  eyes  ol 
the  greater  portion  were  closed  in  sleep,  and 
nothing  having  occurred  during  the  night  to 
alarm  those  who  had  watched,  the  whole  par- 
ty set  forward  as  soon  as  daylight  broke  on  the 
following  morning. 

Wingenund  had  no  difficulty  in  making  out 
the  trail  until  he  reached  the  banks  of  the  river, 
in  crossing  which  Mahega  had  taken  so  much 
pains  to  mislead  his  pursuers.  Here  the  youth 
halted,  and  informed  Reginald  that  he  might 
look  for  game  during  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
as  it  would  be  necessarv  for  him  and  Atto  to 
search  for  AVar-Eagle's  party,  and  with  them  to 
find  the  right  trail  onihe  opposite  bank. 

The  two  Delawares  started  at  a  rapid  pace 
to  the  westward,  bestowing  as  they  went  care- 
ful attention  to  the  various  tracks  of  bison  and 
other  animals  which  had  crossed  at  the  different 
fords  that  they  passed.     After  a  toilsome  marct 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


141 


af  some  hours,  they  fell  in  with  War-Eagle's 
party,  whom  they  found  occupied  in  a  like  in- 
vestigation. The  chief  learnt  his  young  broth- 
er's success  with  undisguised  pleasure  ;  his  na- 
ture was  too  noble  to  entertain  a  thought  of 
jealousy  ;  and  one  of  the  first  wishes  of  his 
heart  was  to  see  Wingenund  take  his  place 
among  the  first  warriors  of  the  tribe.  He  had 
ascertained  beyond  a  doubt,  that  although  the 
horses  of  the  Osages  had  crossed  the  river  op- 
posite to  the  trail  which  he  had  been  following, 
thfy  had  not  travelled  far  in  that  direction,  but 
had  returned  to  the  bed  of  the  river  for  the  ob- 
vious purpose  of  baffling  pursuit ;  and  the  Del- 
awares  now  crossed  to  the  northern  bank,  and 
after  minute  examination  of  every  path  and 
track  which  led  from  it,  they  arrived  in  the 
evening  at  the  point  from  whence  Wingenund 
started,  confident  that  the  right  trail  must,  if 
the  Osages  had  crossed  at  all,  be  at  some  spot 
lower  down  the  stream. 

The  whole  party,  now  again  reunited,  encamp- 
ed for  the  rught,  and  related,  over  their  evening 
meal,  the  indications  and  tracks  which  they  had 
remarked  on  their  respective  lines  of  march. 
At  the  earliest  dawn  War-Eagle  was  again  afoot, 
and  after  an  hour's  patient  search,  he  struck 
a  trail,  which  he  pronounced  without  hesita- 
tion, to  be  that  of  the  Osages.  As  it  lead 
through  a  wooded  and  hilly  region  along  the 
base  of  the  Great  Mountains,  abounding  in  nar- 
row and  dangerous  passes,  every  precaution 
was  used  against  ambush  or  surprise  ;  War- 
Eagle,  Wingenund,  and  Atto  leading  the  ad- 
vance, with  several  of  the  most  swift  and  skil- 
ful of  their  warriors,  and  the  white  men,  who 
brought  up  the  rear,  being  cautioned  against 
straggling  or  falling  behind  the  main  body. 

Another  slip  of  paper  found  upon  the  trail, 
bearing  Prairie-bird's  inspiring  watchword 
♦'  Follow,"  raised  the  spirits  of  the  party  to  the 
highest  pitch.  They  halted  at  midday  to  refresh 
themselves  and  their  horses  for  an  hour,  un- 
der the  shade  of  some  spreading  cedars,  above 
which  rose  a  high  conical  peak,  on  the  sides  of 
which  were  scattered  a  few  dwarf  oaks  and 
other  timber  of  stunted  growth.  Obeying  a  sig- 
nal from  War-Eagle,  Reginald  climbed  with  him 
to  the  summit  of  this  hill,  whence  they  could 
command  an  extensive  view  of  the  sand  hills 
and  undulating  ocean  of  prairie  to  the  east- 
ward, while  above  them  to  the  westward  tow- 
ered the  lofty  and  still  distant  mountain-tops, 
clad  in  their  bright  mantle  of  eternal  snow. 

But  it  was  not  to  enjoy  the  splendour  of  this 
magnificent  prospect  that  the  Delaware  had  toil- 
ed up  this  steep  ascent,  or  that  he  now  cast  his 
restless  and  searching  eye  towards  the  north 
and  east  horizon  :  he  had  another  object  in 
view.  Neither  did  he  seem  to  have  altogether 
failed  in  its  attainment,  for  after  gazing  long  and 
intently  upon  a  spot  to  the  northward,  his  coun- 
tenance brightened,  and  he  desired  Reginald, 
who  was  unable  to  distinguish  so  distant  a 
speck  with  the  naked  eye,  to  examine  it  care- 
fully with  his  telescope,  for  that  he  would  see 
something  there  that  would  make  his  heart 
beat. 

Reginald  did  so,  and  having  succeeded  in 
catching  the  indicated  object  with  his  glass,  he 
exclaimed,  "  War-Eagle,  my  brother,  you  are 
right  I  can  see  them  plainly,  one — two — three 


— aye,  twenty  Indian  lodges,  and  the  whiie  tent 
among  them.  Heaven  be  praised  for  all  its 
mercies,  we  shall  save  her  yet !" 

For  a  few  moments  the  chief  was  silent,  then 
he  said,  "  Let  my  brother  use  the  glass  again, 
and  say  how  many  lodges  he  can  count." 

"  There  seem  to  be  very  many,"  said  Regi 
nald,  after  a  careful  survey,  "  more  than  fifty 
but  I  cannot  count  them,  for  the  tent  is  on  a 
small  hill,  and  some  may  be  hid  behind  it." 

"  Mahega  smokes  the  pipe  with  a  powerful 
tribe,"  said  the  Delaware,  musing:  and  the  two 
friends  descended  the  hill,  each  contemplating 
according  to  the  bent  of  their  respective  charac- 
ters, the  difficulties  yet  to  be  encountered,  and 
the  means  by  which  those  difficulties  might  be 
overcome. 

Meanwhile  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Ma- 
hega remained  in  idle  security  a  resident  in  the 
Crow  encampment ;  he  appreciated  too  justly 
the  skill  and  perseverance  of  War-Eagle  to  sup- 
pose that  the  latter  would  not  strike  and  follow 
his  trail,  he  therefore  turned  his  attention  to  the 
strenthening  of  his  alliance  with  his  new  friends 
by  every  means  in  his  power.  In  this  endea 
vour  his  own  sagacity  was  admirably,  though 
perhaps  unconsciously,  seconded  by  the  win 
ning  manners  and  character  of  Prairie-bird,  fo) 
the  Crows,  who  had  been  prepared  to  look  upon 
her  with  a  feeling  akin  to  dread,  were  agreea- 
bly surprised  by  her  extreme  beauty,  and  the 
gentleness  of  her  demeanour. 

The  cunning  Osage,  knowing  that  she  could 
only  be  drawn  from  the  strict  seclusion  in  which 
she  lived  by  her  never-failing  willingness  to  al- 
leviate suffering,  had  caused  several  children, 
and  others  afflicted  with  illness,  to  be  brought 
to  her,  and  she  never  declined  giving  them  such 
remedies  from  her  remaining  stock  of  medicine 
as  she  thought  most  likely  to  affi^rd  relief 
The  general  success  of  her  simple  pharmacy 
fully  answered  the  expectations  of  Mahega,  in 
the  increasing  anxiety  daily  evinced  by  the 
Crows  to  guard  and  protect  the  "  Great  Medi- 
cine of  the  tent ;"  and  thus,  while  obeying  the 
dictates  of  her  own  gentle  and  humane  feeling, 
the  maiden  little  knew  that  she  was  strengthen- 
ing the  cords  of  her  captivity. 

Neither  did  Mahega  neglect  to  take  every 
precaution  against  an  attack  or  surprise  on  the 
part  of  War-Eagle  and  his  party.  Although 
ignorant  of  their  precise  force,  he  knew  that 
they  would  in  all  probability  be  well  armed,  and 
was  far  from  satisfied  with  the  position  of  the 
present  encampment  occupied  by  the  Crows. 
After  conversing  once  or  twice  with  Besha, 
and  the  judicious  admixture  of  a  few  presents 
to  that  rfwinterested  personage,  he  learnt  that 
there  was  at  a  distance  of  half  a  day's  march  to 
the  northward  a  favourite  strong  hold  *of  the 
Crows,  to  which  they  frequently  resorted  when 
attacked  by  an  enemy  too  numerous  to  be  re- 
sisted in  the  open  plain,  and  it  was  represented 
to  be  in  a  neighbourhood  affording  abundance 
of  game,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  pasture  for 
the  horses. 

Mahega  found  it  not  a  very  difficult  task  to 
persuade  the  Crow  chief  to  withdraw  to  this 
post,  representing  to  him  the  formidable  equip 
ment  of  the  Delawares  aided  by  their  white  al 
lies,  and  he  urged  him  also  to  send  a  few  of  his 
best  runners  to  hang  about  the  trail  by  which  he 


143 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


had  himself  arrived,  so  that.timeiy  notice  of  the 
enemy's  approach  might  be  received. 

Tlie  Crow  acquiesced  in  both  suggestions, 
and  the  united  band  moved  off  accordingly  to 
the  post  above  referred  to,  which  they  reached 
in  tlie  afternoon  of  the  same  day ;  it  was  a  co- 
nical hill,  covered  on  one  side  with  low  juniper 
bushes,  and  rising  suddenly  out  of  the  prairie 
at  a  distance  of  several  miles  from  the  higher 
range  of  mountains  to  the  west ;  a  few  hundred 
yards  further  to  the  east  was  another  height  of 
similar  elevation,  but  of  less  circumference,  and 
between  these  two  lay  a  valley  of  extreme  fer- 
tility, watered  by  a  stream  so  cool  and  clear, 
that  it  bespoke  at  once  the  mountain  source 
whence  it  flowed  ;  the  eastern  side  of  this  sec- 
ond hill  was  almost  perpendicular,  so  as  to  be 
secure  against  any  attack  from  that  quarter : 
while  an  enemy  approaching  from  the  valley 
tvould  be  exposed,  to  missiles  shot  from  either 
height. 

Mahfega  saw  at  a  glance  the  strength  of  the 
position,  and  proposed  to  the  chief  that  he,  with 
his  Osages,  should  garrison  the  smaller  height, 
leaving  the  larger  hill  and  the  intermediate  val- 
ley to  be  occopied  by  the  Crows. 

This  arrangement  being  agreed  upon,  the 
tent  of  Prairie-bird  was  pitched  near  the  sum- 
mit, on  a  spot  where  the  ground  gently  sloped 
to  the  westward,  and  a  few  scattered  oaks, 
cedars,  and  pines  afforded  not  only  a  partial 
shelter  from  the  rays  of  the  sun,  but  a  sufficient 
supply  of  fuel  for  cooking  the  venison  and  bison 
meat,  which  the  hunters  had  brought  in  abun- 
dantly. Some  twenty  lodges  of  the  Crows 
were  placed  upon  the  opposite  and  larger  height ; 
these  consisted  chiefly  of  the  principal  braves 
and  warriors ;  the  intermediate  valley  being 
occupied  by  the  remainder  of  the  band,  and  an 
ample  space  was  left  for  picketing  the  horses  at 
night  between  the  two  hills. 

On  arriving  at  her  new  quarters,  Prairie-bird 
could  not  avoid  being  struck  by  the  singularity, 
as  well  as  by  the  beauty  of  the  scenery.  It  was 
evident  that  the  face  of  the  sandstone  rock, 
above  which  her  tent  was  pitched,  had  been 
eaten  away  by  the  action  of  water  and  the  ele- 
ments ;  and  she  imagined  that  ere  many  years 
should  pass,  the  precipitous  cliff  on  its  eastern 
front  would  partially  fall  in,  and  leave  in  its 
place  a  broken  and  turreted  ruin,  such  as  she 
had  before  noted  and  admired  on  the  western 
borders  of  the  great  prairie.  It  was  a  great 
relief  to  her  that  she  was  so  much  by  herself; 
for  the  lodge  of  Mahega  and  his  followers  was 
pitched  somewhat  lower  down  the  hill  than 
her  own  tent,  and  she  was  yet  further  removed 
from  the  dirt  and  other  annoyances  of  the  Crow 
lodges.  This  was,  indeed,  a  great  luxury,  as 
the  quantity  of  bison-meat  brought  into  the 
camp  on  the  first  day's  hunt  was  so  great,  that 
the  Upsaroka  women  were  spreading  and  drying 
it  in  every  direction:  and  as  these  ladies  are 
not  usually  very  particular  in  removing  the 
offal,  the  odour  thence  arising  in  the  valley 
below  was  not  the  sweetest  that  could  be  ima- 
gined. 

Mahega  was  in  high  good  humour  in  conse- 
quence of  the  successful  result  of  his  arrange- 
ments ;  for  he  now  occupied  a  post  not  only 
well  protected  against  the  attack  of  an  enemy, 
but  where  his  baggage  could  not  be  purloined 


by  the  light-fingered  youths,  who  are  so  prover- 
bially abundant  among  the  Crows.  But  how- 
ever secure  he  might  feel,  he  did  not  relax  hia 
usual  vigilance,  in  which  he  was  zealously  sec- 
onded by  Toweno  ;  and  whenever  the  one  was 
absent  from  the  garrison,  even  for  a  short  time, 
the  other  always  remained  at  home  on  the  wati;ti. 
He  renewed,  also,  a  rude  breastwork  of  unliev,  n 
logs,  which  had  been  thrown  up  by  the  Crows 
on  some  former  occasion,  and  which  a.Torded  a 
shelter,  from  behind  which  he  and  his  nipn 
could  fire  upon  an  approaching  enemy  without 
being  themselves  exposed.  • 

They  had  not  long  been  settled  in  their  new 
quarters  before  the  detachment  which  had  been 
sent  to  reconnoitre  returned  to  report  that  they 
had  seen  the  united  band  of  white  men  ant! 
Delawares,  about  thirty  in  number,  advancing 
cautiously  along  the  base  of  the  hills  towards 
the  Upsaroka  camp.  The  scouts  had  recognised 
Reginald  as  the  person  who  had  killed  one  of 
their  principal  warriors  ;  and  the  announcement 
of  his  approach  was  received  with  a  yell  that 
showed  how  determinately  the  Grows  were 
bent  on  revenge. 

A  war-council  was  immediately  held,  which 
Mahega  was  summoned  to  attend  ;  and  although 
the  wary  Osage  kept  himself  in  the  background, 
and  showed  no  disposition  to  offer  his  advice 
until  twice  pressed  by  Besha  to  do  so,  it  was 
soon  evident  that  his  spirit  would  rule  the  meet- 
ing, and  that  on  him  would  devolve  the  conduct 
of  the  struggle  in  which  they  must  soon  expect 
to  be  engaged  :  such  was  the  impression  already 
made  upon  his  new  allies  by  his  gigantic  stat- 
ure, and  the  air  of  command  that  accompanied 
his  every  word  and  gesture. 

Unless  the  advantage  of  numbers  was  to  be 
very  great  on  his  side,  Mahega  did  not  augur 
favourably  of  the  result  of  an  open  conflict  be- 
tween the  Crows  and  the  small  but  well-ap- 
pointed force  opposed  to  them.  He  formed  a 
just  estimate  of  the  skill  and  sagacity  of  War- 
Eagle,  and  of  the  impetuous  courage  of  Regi- 
nald Brandon.  He  hated  both,  especially  the 
latter,  with  all  the  bitter  intensity  of  which  his 
nature  was  capable  ;  and  resolved  that  no  strat- 
agem should  be  left  untried  to  heap  upon  them 
every  species  of  suffering  and  disgrace. 

With  this  view,  he  conferred  long,  through 
the  medium  of  Besha,  with  the  leading  warriors 
of  the  prows  as  to  the  nature  of  the  ground  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  enemy's  line  of  march  ; 
being  determined,  if  possible,  to  lead  them  intc 
an  ambush  ;  or  at  least  to  attack  them  in  some 
defile  or  pass,  where  the  bow  and  arrow  would 
be  a  better  match  for  the  rifle  than  in  the  open 
plain.  Not  being  altogether  satisfied  with  the  \ 
replies  which  he  received,  he  declined  giving 
his  opinion  until  he  should  have  reconnoitred 
the  district  in  person,  and  set  forth  without 
delay,  accompanied  by  the  dwarfish  interpreter 
and  two  Crow  warriors,  all  being  mounted  on 
swift  horses. 

Having  reached  the  base  of  the  first  range  ol 
hills,  the  Crow  who  acted  as  guide  struck  into 
a  narrow  winding  ravine ;  after  following  the 
course  of  which  for  some  distance,  the  party 
emerged  upon  an  elevated  table-land,  which 
they  crossed  at  full  speed,  and  found  themselves 
at  the  base  of  a  second  range  of  hills,  more 
broken  and  abrupt  than  the  first.    Here  the 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Ui 


guide  and  Mahega  dismounted,  and  having 
concealed  the  horses,  and  left  them  behind  the 
projection  of  a  rock  in  charge  of  the  other  two, 
they  climbed  with  some  difficulty  to  the  brow 
of  a  sandstone  cliff,  whence  they  could  com- 
mand an  extensive  view  of  the  region  to  the 
southward. 

Creeping  cautiously  to  the  edge  of  the  height, 
and  screening  themselves  behind  the  junipers 
and  scanty  bushes  grovping  there,  they  could 
easily  distinguish  the  camp  of  the  Delawares 
and  white  men  in  the  valley  below.  The  band 
had  come  to  a  halt,  and  were  evidently  engaged 
in  refreshing  themselves  and  their  horses  with 
their  midday  meal. 

The  Osage  chief  glared  upon  them  like  a 
tiger  on  his  anticipated  prey.  He  examined 
the  ground  in  front  and  rear  and  flank  of  their 
position ;  he  noted  the  breadth  of  the  pass  where 
the  valley  opened  out  upon  the  plain  beyond, 
and  questioned  his  guide  closely  as  to  the  route 
which  they  would  probably  take  in  advancing 
towards  the  Crow  encampment. 

We  will  leave  him  for  a  time  to  pursue  these 
investigations,  while  we  return  to  Reginald  and 
War-Eagle,  whom  we  left  deliberating  as  to  the 
most  advisable  course  to  be  pursued  for  the  res- 
cue of  Prairie-bird. 

The  Delaware  chief  having  been  soon  in- 
formed by  his  scouts  of  the  enemy's  retreat  to 
another  and  a  stronger  position,  lost  no  time  in 
pushing  forward  his  party  to  the  point  in  the 
valley  where  it  had  (as  above  mentioned)  been 
descried  by  Mahega  and  his  guide.  Reginald 
and  the  other  white  men  were  at  a  loss  to  imag- 
ine why  War-Eagle  had  selected  for  his  halt  a 
spot  where  a  dense  thicket  on  the  side  of  each 
hill  seemed  to  offer  to  an  enemy,  familiar  vi'ith 
the  country,  a  favourable  opportunity  for  attack- 
ing him  unawares  ;  and  even  Baptiste,  when 
questioned  upon  the  subject,  shook  his  head, 
saying,  "Wait  till  to-morrow ;  we  shall  know 
by  that  time  what  hole  the  coon  is  making  for." 
As  for  the  Delawares,  they  ate  their  bison- 
meat  and  smoked  their  pipe  with  as  much  in- 
difference as  if  they  were  in  the  heart  of  their 
own  hunting-ground,  being  confident  in  the  skill 
of  their  leader,  from  the  experience  of  many  a 
foray  and  fight.  The  latter,  having  thrown  for- 
ward two  or  three  of  his  men  as  outposts,  to 
guard  against  surprise,  summoned  Wingenund, 
to  whom  he  gave,  in  an  earnest  voice,  some 
minute  directions,  which  did  not  reach  the  ears 
of  others  in  the  party ;  and  the  youth,  as  soon 
as  he  had  received  them,  went  up  to  Reginald, 
and  said  to  him,  "  Will  Netis  lend  Nekimi  to 
Wingenund  ;  he  will  he  back  before  the  moon 
is  up, — and  if  he  meets  the  Upsarokas,  he  must 
leave  them  behind." 

Reginald  testified  his  willing  assent  to  the 
youth's  request,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Nekimi 
was  bounding  over  the  prairie  beneath  his  light 
burden  with  a  speed  that  soon  brought  him  to  a 
point  whence  he  could  command  a  view  of  the 
two  heights,  upon  and  between  which  the  Crows 
were  encamped. 

The  sand-hills  in  that  region  project  in  many 
places  from  the  base  of  the  Great  Mountains  in- 
to the  open  plain,  like  the  promontories  of  an 
indented  shore  into  the  ocean,  and  it  was  by 
skirting  one  of  these  until  he  reached  its  extrem- 
ity that  he  continued  to  watch  the  encampment 


of  the  Ciows  without  being  observed  by  theij 
scouts ;  for  several  hours  he  stood  motionless 
by  the  side  of  Nekimi,  under  the  shade  of  a  pine, 
with  that  untiring  patience  which  'enders  ar. 
Indian  unequalled  as  a  spy,  when  he  saw  four 
horsemen  emerge  from  the  camp,  and  gallop 
off  towards  the  base  of  the  mountains.  As  soon 
as  they  entered  a  valley  where  they  were  screen- 
ed from  his  view,  he  put  Nekimi  to  his  speed, 
and  by  a  shorter  cut  reached  the  head  of  the 
same  valley  before  them,  then  leaving  his  horsa 
behind  a  thicket  of  junipers,  he  crept  forward, 
and  hiding  himself  in  some  brushwood,  waited 
for  the  passing  of  the  horsemen. 

As  the  roughness  of  the  ground  had  corape* 
ed  them  to  slacken  their  speed,  he  had  no  difli- 
culty  in  recognizing  Mahega,  but  the  features 
of  the  misshapen  interpreter  and  the  Crow  war 
riors  were,  of  course,  strange  to  him.  He  watch- 
ed the  Osage  chief  and  his  companion  as  they 
climbed  the  hill,  from  the  top  of  which  they 
made  their  observations  of  the  Delaware  camp  ; 
and  as  they  returned  and  remounted  their  hor- 
ses, they  passed  so  near  to  his  hiding-place  that 
the  youth  distinctly  heard  two  or  three  words 
which  Mahega  spoke  to  Besha  in  the  Osage 
tongue.  Aa  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  he 
hastened  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  Nekimi, 
and  returned  at  full  speed  to  make  his  report  to 
War-Eagle. 

The  chief  had  evidently  been  awaiting  with 
some  impatience  the  return  of  his  m.essenger, 
and  when  he  received  the  intelligence  which  tho 
latter  brought  back,  he  said,  "  It  is  well,  let  Ne- 
tis and  the  chiefs  be  called  to  council — there  is 
no  time  to  lose." 

A  few  minutes  sufficed  to  assemble  the  lead- 
ers, who  were  expected  to  take  a  part  in  the 
deliberations  about  to  be  entered  upon,  all  of 
them  being  well  aware  of  their  vicinity  to  the 
enemy  of  whom  they  had  so  long  been  in  pur- 
suit ;  but  when  called  upon  to  express  their 
opinion  as  to  the  course  to  be  adopted,  a  mani- 
fest reluctance  prevailed,  arising  probably  from 
the  wild  and  rugged  nature  of  the  region,  and 
from  their  ignorance  of  the  strength  of  the  band 
with  which  Mahega  had  allied  himself  After  a 
brief  pause,  Baptiste,  who  was  thoroughly  versed 
in  the  character  of  the  Delawares,  arose  and 
said,  "  Are  the  tongues  of  the  warriors  tied  1 
the  sun  will  not  stay  in  his  path,  neither  will 
the  grass  grow  beneath  the  feet  of  the  Washa- 
shee  and  Upsaroka ;  the  white  men  and  the 
Lenape  wait  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Great 
Chief — let  War-Eagle  speak." 

Thus  called  upon,  the  Delaware  leader  came 
forward  to  address  the  council.  He  painted  the 
wrongs  that  his  tribe  had  suffered  at  the  hands 
of  the  Osages,  the  treachery  and  cruelties  prac- 
tised on  their  wives  and  children  ;  then  he  dwelt 
on  the  spoiling  of  their  lodges,  the  abduction  of 
Prairie-bird,  and  the  attempted  murder  of  Win- 
genund. Having  thus  roused  the  passions  of 
his  Delaware  hearers,  he  gradually  brought  them 
back  to  a  calmer  state  of  reflection,  by  repre- 
senting to  them  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of 
their  present  position,  owing  to  the  alliance 
formed  by  their  implacable  enemy  with  the  Up- 
saroka, who  knew  every  pass  and  dangerous 
defile  of  the  country  through  which  they  were 
marching,  and  he  impressed  upon  them  the  ne- 
cessity of  their  having  recourse  to  stratagem  in 


144 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


order  to  make  up  for  their  deficiency  in  numbers 
and  in  local  knowledge.  He  then  proceeded  to 
unfold  his  plan  of  operations,  which  (as  after- 
wards explained  by  Baj)iiste  to  Reginald  and 
his  friend)  was  nearly  in  the  following  words  : 

"  Mahega  and  the  Upsaroka  will  attack  our 
camp  to-nigbt — the  woll  shall  fall  into  a  trap — 
they  will  come  to  take  scalps,  let  them  look 
after  their  own — but  we  must  divide  our  pariy 
— Wingonund  has  seen  the  Washashee  camp, 
he  shall  guide  ten  warriors  to  it  in  the  dark,  and 
while  Mahega  is  leading  his  blind  followers  here, 
the  tomaliawk  and  the  fire  shall  be  in  his  lodge  I" 
A  deep  murmur  of  approbation  satisfied  the 
cliief  as  to  the  sentiments  of  his  stern  and  deter- 
Diined  band  ;  and  Ethelston,  although  he  knew 
not  the  meaning  of  the  words  which  had  been 
uttered,  was  struck  by  the  dignity  with  which 
(hey  dad  been  spoken,  and  by  the  rich  and  va- 
ried intonation  of  War-Eagle's  voice. 

"  Reginald,"  said  he,  "  how  much  I  regret 
that  I  could  not  follow  your  Indian  brother  in 
his  discourse.  His  attitudes  brought  to  my 
mind  the  orators  of  old,  as  represented  to  us  by 
classic  pen  and  chisel :  it  seemed  as  if  I  could 
almost  gather  his  meaning  from  his  eloquence 
of  eye  and  tone  !" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Reginald,  "whether  the 
merit  of  oratory  consists  in  action,  as  held  by  the 
'old  man  eloquent  who  fulmined  over  Greece,' 
or  in  the  art  of  persuasion,  by  convincing  the 
judgment  while  moving  the  passions  of  the  hear- 
ers, as  held  by  the  best  authors  who  have  since 
written  on  the  subject,  War-Eagle  possesses  it 
in  an  eminent  degree." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ethelston,  "  I  admit  the  per- 
suasive power,  and  the  action  at  once  graceful 
and  commanding,  but  I  maintain  that  there  is 
yet  a  stronger  element,  the  mention  of  which 
you,  and  the  authors  whom  you  quote,  have 
strangely  neglected,  namely.  Truth ;  that  im- 
mortal essence,  which  pervades  the  whole  intel- 
ligent creation,  before  which  falsehood  shrinks 
abashed,  and  sophistry  vanishes  into  vapour. 
This  it  is  that  guides  the  winged  words  of  man 
direct  to  the  heart  of  his  brother  :  by  this,  and 
this  alone,  did  the  voice  of  Luther  triumph  over 
the  thunders  of  the  Vatican,  and  beneath  its 
iHighty  influence  the  haughty  Feli.K  trembled 
before  the  captive  apostle.  This  is,  if  T  mistake 
not,  the  secret  of  your  Indian  friend's  oratory; 
every  word  that  he  utters  finds  an  echo  in  the 
breast  of  those  whom  he  is  addressing.  The 
injuries  that  he  recounts  are  recent ;  the  dan- 
gers against  which  he  warns  them  are  real  and 
present ;  and  the  vengeance  to  which  he  guides 
them,  they  pant  for  with  a  thirst  ardent  as  his 
own." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,"  replied  Reginald,  "  to 
disparage  the  might  and  majesty  of  truth,  or  to 
doubt  that  in  the  end  it  must  triumph  over  error 
and  falsehood,  as  certainly  as  Good  shall  obtain 
the  victory  over  Evil.  Nevertheless,  I  hold, 
that  as  the  object  of  eloquence  frequently  is  to 
'  make  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause,'  and 
to  guide  the  hearers,  not  so  much  to  their  own 
real  good  as  to  the  immediate  purpose  of  the 
speaker,  there  are  some  occasions  where  he  will 
more  effectively  attain  it  by  working  on  their 
prejudices,  frailties,  and  passions,  than  he  could 
oy  the  most  direct  appeal  to  justice  or  to  truth. 
Tf  Felix  trembled  at  the  denunciations  of  Paul, 


the  bolder  and  mightier  spirit  of  Wallenstein 
quailed  before  the  wily  astrologer,  who  pretend- 
ed to  have  interwoven  his  destinies  with  the 
mysterious  movements  of  the  planets." 

"  I  see  the  scope  of  your  argument,  Reginald, 
and  acknowledge  its  force.  It  is  because  men 
obey  the  dictates  of  passion  more  willingly  thar. 
those  of  conscience,  that  they  are  more  easily 
led  by  the  factious  sophistry  of  a  Cleon  than  by 
tlie  virtuous  wisdom  of  a  Socrates.  Neverthe- 
less, you  will  not  deny  that  even  sophistry  and 
faction  bear  testimony  to  the  might  of  truth,  by 
putting  on  her  semblance,  and  disguising  them- 
selves as  her  followers :  thus  do  they  achieve 
success,  until  they  encounter  some  champion 
strong  enough  to  unmask  and  detect  them  ;  as 
the  Trojans  fled  before  Patroclus  clad  in  the 
armour  of  Achilles,  until  Hector  pierced  his  dis- 
guise, and  killed  him." 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Reginald,  laughing, 
"  that  in  this  wild  and  remote  region,  and  amidst 
its  wandering  tribes,  we  should  renew  discus- 
sions which  we  so  often  held  together  in  early 
days  on  the  banks  of  the  Elbe  and  Rhine  1  I 
remember  that  you  generally  beat  me  in  argu- 
ment, and  yet  permitted  me  to  retain  possession 
of  the  field  of  battle.  On  this  occasion  I  think 
we  must  draw  off  our  forces,  and  neither  claim 
the  victory.  The  Indians  are  already  preparing 
for  the  night's  expedition,  and  interests  so  dear 
to  me  depend  upon  its  result,  that  I  look  foi'- 
ward  to  it  with  the  deepest  anxiety.  If  War- 
Eagle  is  correct  in  his  calculation,  that  the 
O.-^ages  and  their  allies  will  attack  our  camp  to- 
night, it  is  uncertain  whether  they  will  carrj 
Prairie-bird  with  them,  or  leave  her  behind  un- 
der a  guard.  We  must  be  prepared  for  eithei 
plan  ;  and,  in  dividing  our  force,  arrange  it  so 
that,  if  we  succeed,  she  may  be  sure  of  faUing 
into  the  hands  of  those  fit  and  authorised  to 
protect  her.  I  will  take  with  me  Wingenund, 
and  our  steady  friends  Baptiste  and  Pierre :  do 
you  remain  with  War-Eagle,  Paul  Miiller,  and 
the  main  body  reserved  for  the  defence  of  the 
camp." 

"  Be  it  so,"  replied  Ethelston  ;  "  I  trust  we 
shall  not  be  long  separated,  and  that  before  this 
hour  to-morrow  we  shall  have  rescued  your  be- 
trothed from  her  captors."  He  added,  with  a 
smile,  "  Remember  that  in  our  German  expedi- 
tion you  made  me  many  promises  of  discretion, 
which,  in  the  excitement  of  action,  you  were 
somewhat  apt  to  forget ;  you  must  not  do  so 
now  that  you  are  engaged  in  the  cause  of  one 
to  whom  your  life  is  perhaps  dearer  than  it  is 
to  yourself." 

"  Baptiste  himself  shall  not  be  more  cautious 
than  I  will  be,"  replied  Reginald,  gra.sping  his 
friend's  hand  ;  and  they  parted  to  make  the  re- 
quisite preparations  for  their  respective  duties 


CHAPTER  XXXVH. 
A  scene  in  the  tent  of  Prairie-bud,  who  frives  some  goo 
advico,  and  receives  in  a  short  space  of  time  more  than 
one  unexpected  visitor.— The  Crows,  led  by  Mahtfra, 
attaclt  the  Delaware  camp  by  night.— The  delerited 
parly  achieve  a  kind  of  triumph,  and  tlie  victors  meet 
with  an  unexpected  loss. 

The  evening  passed  away  with  the  rapidity 
usual  in  that  w-estern  region,  where  twilight  has 
no  sooner  thrown  its  dusky  hue  over  mountain 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


145 


nd  plain,  than  it  again  yields  its  place  to  the 
>1arker  gloom  of  night ;  and  yet  it  were  a  libel 
Bpon  nature  to  call  by  the  name  of  gloom  that 
uncertain  light  in  which  that  mighty  landscape 
reposed.  The  moon  was  half  full,  and  her 
beams,  scarcely  piercing  through  the  deep  foli- 
age of  the  wooded  vale,  streaked  with  silver 
lines  its  mossy  herbage  ;  eastward  lay  the  vast 
espanse  of  undulating  prairie,  on  which  count- 
less herds  of  bison  lazily  cropped  the  dew- 
sprinkled  grass,  while  high  above  the  scene 
towered  the  gigantic  peaks  of  the  Western  An- 
des, slumbering  in  a  light  as  cold  and  pale  as 
theii  own  eternal  snow. 

Nothing  was  heard  to  disturb  the  reign  of 
silence,  save  the  distant  murmur  of  the  stream- 
lets as  they  plashed  from  rock  to  rock  in  their 
descent  to  the  quiet  river  that  flowed  beneath  ; 
or  here  and  there  the  stealthy  foot  of  the  panther 
or  prowling  bear.  A  few  stars  glimmered  in 
the  vault  above,  and  clouds  of  ever-varying 
shape  flitted  athwart  its  surface,  now  hiding, 
and  again  partially  revealing  the  dark  outlines 
of  forest,  vale,  and  rugged  cliff. 

It  was  an  hour  and  a  scene  calculated  to  in- 
spire thoughts  of  awe,  piety,  and  gratitude,  to- 
wards the  Creator ;  of  love,  gentleness,  and 
peace  towards  his  creatures ;  and  yet  through 
those  groves  and  glens  feet  more  stealthy  than 
the  panther's  step,  foes  more  fell  than  the  prow- 
ling bear,  now  wound  their  silent  way,  bent  on 
their  secret  errand  of  destruction  and  of  blood. 

In  one  quarter  Reginald,  followed  by  Baptiste, 
Pierre,  and  six  men,  moved  swiftly  across  the 
prairie,  under  the  guidance  of  Wingenund,  to- 
wards the  camp  of  the  Osages  ;  in  another,  Ma- 
hega  led  a  numerous  band  through  the  defiles 
before  described,  to  surprise  the  encampment 
of  the  Delav/ares  ;  while  at  the  latter  place 
War-Eagle,  aided  by  Atto  and  his  chosen  war- 
riors, was  making  all  the  necessary  dispositions 
for  a  stratagem  by  which  he  hoped  to  defeat  the 
expected  attack  of  his  enemies. 

It  was  already  several  hours  past  midnight, 
the  moon  had  withdrawn  her  light,  and  Prai- 
rie-bird was  buried  in  the  refreshing  sleep  that 
visits  the  eyelids  q£  guileless  youth  ;  Lita  slum- 
bered on  a  couch  of  skins  stretched  across  the 
entrance  of  her  mistress's  tent,  before  which,  at 
a  little  distance,  the  Osage  sentry,  seated  by  the 
breastwork  thrown  up  for  the  defence  of  the 
position,  hummed  a  low  and  plaintive  air  of  his 
tribe.  Suddenly  his  ear  caught  the  sound  of 
approaching  feet,  and  quick  as  thought  the  ar- 
row was  fitted  to  his  bowstring,  but  he  checked 
the  hasty  movement,  remembering  that  sentries 
were  posted  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  who  would 
not  have  permitted  any  hostile  step  to  approach 
unchallenged.  As  the  new  comers  drew  near, 
be  distinguished  through  the  gloom  the  figures 
of  a  man  and  a  woman — the  former  short  and 
square-built,  the  latter  slight  and  graceful. 

"  What  do  the  strangers  seek  1"  inquired 
Toweno  ;  for  he  it  was  whom  Mahega  had  left 
m  charge  of  his  camp,  and  who  now  guarded 
the  tent  of  Prairie-bird. 

"  Toweno  is  a  great  warrior  among  the  Wasn- 
ashe ;  his  voice  is  welcome  to  the  ear  of  a 
friend,"  replied,  in  the  Osage  tongue,  the  rough 
voice  of  Besha,  the  horse-dealer.  •"  The  Upsa- 
roka  maiden  wishes  to  speak  with  Olitipa,  the 
Great  Medicine  of  the  tent.'' 
K 


"  This  is  not  a  time  for  maidens  to  visit  or 
to  speak,"  replied  Toweno ;  "  the  feel  of  the 
braves  are  on  the  night-path,  and  many  wivea 
who  sleep  now  will  be  widows  ere  the  sun 
is  up." 

"  Besha  knows  it  well,"  answered  the  horse- 
dealer  ;  "  nor  can  he  understand  how  Toweno 
is  in  the  camp  while  Mahega  and  his  warriors 
are  on  the  bloody-path." 

"  The  Pale-faces  are  cunning,"  replied  the 
Osage,  "  and  Mahega  would  not  leave  the  rich 
skins  of  otter,  beaver,  and  bison,  and  the  Great 
Medicine  of  the  tent,  without  a  guard." 

"  The  Pale-faces  will  not  come  near  the  high- 
camp,"  said  Besha,  casting  a  rapid  glance  over 
the  bales  of  fur  and  cloth.  "  Have  you  many 
warriors  left  with  you  V 

"  Four  of  the  Washashe,  and  four  times  four 
of  the  Upsaroka,  is  the  band  in  camp  ;*  but 
what  does  the  woman  desire  of  Olitipa  1" 

"  She  is  the  youngest  and  favourite  wife  oi 
the  Upsaroka  chief,"  replied  Besha,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  and  she  desires  a  medicine  that  his  love 
for  her  may  never  change ;  her  heart  is  good 
towards  the  Washashe,  and  her  hands  are  not 
empty."  Here  he  whispered  a  few  words  to 
his  companion,  and  the  girl,  timidly  extending 
her  hand,  placed  in  that  of  the  Osage  a  small 
roll  of  tobacco. 

The  grim  features  of  the  warrior  relaxed  into 
a  smile,  as  his  fingers  closed  upon  the  scarce 
and  much  coveted  leaf;t  and,  without  further 
delay,  he  moved  to  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  and 
waking  Lita,  desired  her  to  arouse  her  mistress 
for  a  conference  with  the  bride  of  the  Upsaroka 
chief 

Although  surprised  at  this  unexpected  sum- 
mons. Prairie-bird  hastened  to  receive  her  vis- 
itor, supposing  that  some  sudden  illness  or  ac- 
cident must  be  the  cause  of  her  coming  at  such 
an  hour.  Her  simple  toilet  was  soon  made  ; 
and  fastening  to  her  girdle  the  bag  containing 
the  slender  stock  of  instruments  and  trifles  that 
she  always  carried  with  her,  she  stepped  into 
the  outer  compartment  of  the  tent,  and  desired 
Lita  to  admit  the  stranger. 

The  Grow  girl,  led  by  Besha,  came  forward 
with  apparent  reluctance,  obviously  under  the 
influence  of  the  greatest  terror ;  and  Prairie- 
bird  was,  for  the  moment,  annoyed  at  the  ad- 
mission into  her  tent  of  a  man  whom  she  had 
only  seen  once  or  twice  before,  and  whose  ap- 
pearance was  forbidding  in  the  extreme  ;  but 
quickly  remembering  that  without  him  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  communicate  with  her 
visitor,  she  desired  Lita  to  place  three  mats  ; 
and  seating  herself  upon  one,  kindly  took  the 
Grow  girl  by  the  hand,  drawing  her  gently  to 
that  nearest  to  herself;  then  motioning  to  Be- 


*  The  various  methods  of  counting  adopted  by  the 
western  tribes  are  curious  in  the  extreme ;  some  reckon 
chiefly  by  fives,  and  among  these  an  expression  equiva- 
lent to  "hands  and  feet"  signifies  "twenty;"  in  one  lan- 
guage the  number  eight  is  expressed  by  a  word  meaning 
six  with  two ;  in  another,  by  a  word  signifying  ten  with 
out  two:  in  fact,  some  very  interesting  illustrations  ot 
their  language  and  modes  of  thought  might  be  drawn 
from  an  accurate  investigation  of  their  numerals,  but  they 
would  be  entirely  out  of  place  in  a  work  of  fiction. 

t  Tobacco  is  extremely  scarce,  and  highly  valued  among 
the  western  tribes  ;  at  the  close  of  the  last  century,  it  was 
probably  unknown  among  the  Crows,  so  that  we  must 
suppose' that  the  horse-dealer  produced  this  present  from 
his  own  stores,  and  for  purposes  best  known  to  hiuiseU'. 


146 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


sha  to  occupy  the  third,  she  requested  him,  in 
the  Delaware  tongue,  to  explain  the  object  of 

this  nightly  visit. 

"  The  tale  of  the  Upsaroka  maid  is  secret," 
he  replied  ;  "  it  is  oflly  for  the  ears  of  Olitipa." 

At  it  signal  from  her  mistress,  Lita,  throwing 
a  blanket  over  her  shoulder,  stepped  into  the 
open  air,  and  leaned  against  the  breastwork  not 
far  from  the  post  of  Toweno. 

"  Does  the  '  Bending-willow'  wish  all  to  be 
told  !"  inquired  Besha  of  his  companion,  in  a 
whisper. 

Bending-willow,  who  had  not  yet  dared  to  lift 
her  eyes  from  the  ground,  now  timidly  raised 
them  ;  and  encountering  the  kind  and  encour- 
aging glance  of  Prairie-bird,  answered,  "  Let  all 
be  told." 

Having  received  this  permission,  the  one- 
eyed  horse-dealer  proceeded  to  relate,  with 
more  feeling  than  could  have  been  expected 
from  his  harsh  and  uncouth  appearance,  the 
story  of  his  fair  companion.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  principal  brave  in  the  nation  ;  both  he 
and  his  only  son  had  fallen  lately  in  a  bloody 
engagement  with  the  Black-feet.  The  father 
had,  with  his  dying  breath,  bequeathed  his  sur- 
viving child  to  the  protection  of  his  chief,  and 
the  latter  had  fulfilled  the  trust  by  giving  her  in 
marriage  to  his  eldest  son,  a  gallant  youth,  who, 
although  not  yet  twenty-five  years  of  age,  had 
already  two  wives  in  his  lodge,  and  had  taken 
many  scalps  from  the  Black-feet,  against  whom 
he  was  now  absent  on  an  expedition  undertaken 
to  avenge  the  slain  relations  of  his  newly  es- 
poused bride. 

Bending-willow,  who  had  not  yet  seen  eigh- 
teen summers,  was  passionately  fond  of  her 
young  lord,  who  now  returned  her  affection 
with  an  ardour  equal  to  her  own  ;  this  had 
moved  the  spite  and  jealousy  of  his  two  former 
wives,  who  took  no  pains  to  conceal  their  ha- 
tred of  her;  and  although  they  dared  not  strike 
or  ill-treat  her  as  long  as  she  remained  the  fa- 
vourite, they  endeavoured  by  every  means  in 
their  power  to  vex  and  annoy  her,  and  to  bring 
her,  by  degrees,  under  the  suspicion  and  dis- 
trust of  their  husband. 

It  was  to  obtain  from  Prairie-bird  a  medicine 
by  which  she  might  secure  his  continued  affec- 
tion, that  Bending-willow  had  made  this  visit ; 
and  she  had  come  stealthily  by  night,  in  hopes 
of  escaping  thereby  the  observation  of  her 
watchful  colleagues. 

During  the  horse-dealer's  recital.  Prairie-bird 
glanced  more  than  once  at  the  young  woman's 
countenance,  of  which  she  was  enabled  by  the 
red  light  of  the  wormwood  torch  that  burnt 
near  the  centre  of  the  tent,  to  distinguish  the 
features  and  expression  ;  both  were  remarkably 
pleasing  and  attractive,  while  the  long  black 
hair  falling  over  her  shoulders  in  two  plaits,  in- 
terwoven with  beads  of  various  colours,  was 
set  off  by  the  delicate  hue  of  the  fawn-skin 
dress,  which  displayed  to  advantage  the  sym- 
metry of  her  light  and  graceful  figure.  Prairie- 
bird  took  her  hand  in  silence,  and  the  Crow 
girl  fixed  her  eyes  with  guileless  and  admiring 
wonder  upon  the  surpassing  loveliness  of  the 
"  great  medicine  of  the  tent,"  which  struck  her 
.he  more  forcibly,  as  she  had  come  in  the  ex- 
j)ectation  of  seeing  a  person  decked  out  and  or- 
namented after  the  fantastic  fashion  adopted 


among  the  Indian  tribes  by  those  who  pretend 
to  supernatural  powers. 

After  a  brief  silence,  Prairie-bird,  addressing 
her  visitor  through  the  interpreter,  said,  "Whea 
the  wives  of  the  young  chief  scold  and  speak 
bad  words  to  Bending-willow,  what  does  she 
reply  !" 

"She  gives  them  bad  words  again,  sharper 
and  harder  than  their  own,"  answered  the  bride 
hastily. 

Prairie-bird  shook  her  head  and  continued, 
"  Has  Bending-willow  watched  their  faces  when 
they  scold  and  heap  angry  words  upon  herl 
How  do  they  look  then  1" 

"They  look  ugly  and  spiteful  as  spotted 
snakes !" 

"  Bending-willow  has  come  for  a  medicine  to 
make  the  love  of  her  husband  endure  fresh  and 
green  as  the  valleys  watered  by  the  Nebraska  ! 
Does  she  think  he  would  love  her  if,  when  he 
returns  to  his  lodge,  he  hears  sharp,  angry  tone* 
in  her  voice,  and  sees  spiteful  looks  in  her  coun- 
tenance 1  The  Great  Spirit  has  made  her  face 
and  voice  sweet  as  the  breath  of  the  morning  : 
if  she  makes  them  ugly  and  harsh,  the  medi- 
cine of  Olitipa  cannot  preserve  her  husband's 
love." 

The  Crow  bride  cast  down  her  eyes,  evident- 
ly confused  and  puzzled  by  this  address.  At 
length  she  inquired,  in  a  subdued  tone,  "What, 
then,  is  the  counsel  of  Olitipa  1  What  is  Bend- 
ing-willow to  do  when  these  sharp  tongues  scold 
and  rail  at  herl" 

Prairie-bird  opened  the  volume  that  lay  be- 
side her,  and  answered,  "  The  words  of  the 
Great  Spirit  are,  '  A  soft  answer  turneth  away 
anger  !'  When  the  tongues  of  the  women  are 
bitter  against  Bending-willow,  let  her  give  gen- 
tle words  in  reply ;  they  wiU  be  ashamed,  and 
will  soon  be  silent." 

"  But,"  said  the  quick-tempered  bride,  "  the 
angry  spirit  gets  into  the  heart  of  Bending-wil- 
low :  when  fire  is  in  the  breast,  cool  water  flows 
not  from  the  tongue  !" 

"  Olitipa  will  give  a  medicine  to  her  sister," 
replied  our  heroine  ;  and  opening  a  case  that 
stood  near  her,  she  drew  thence  a  small  hand- 
mirror.  Presenting  this  to  her  visitor,  she  add- 
ed, "  When  Bending-willow  finds  the  angry 
spirit  in  her  heart,  and  bitter  words  ready  on 
her  tongue,  let  her  look  at  her  face  in  this  med- 
icine-glass, and  say  to  herself,  '  Are  these  the 
soft  eyes  that  the  chief  loves  to  look  uponl'  " 

The  bride  took  the  glass,  and  contemplated 
her  features  therein,  apparently  not  without 
satisfaction.  But  their  expression  was  troubled, 
for  she  was  frightened  at  the  words  which 
Prairie-bird  had  told  her  were  those  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  her  eyes  wandered  from  the 
book  to  the  maiden,  as  if  she  would  willingly 
learn  more  of  her  mysterious  communion  with 
the  powers  above. 

At  this  crisis  the  wild  war-cry  of  the  Crows 
rang  through  the  tent ;  several  shots  followed 
each  other  in  rapid  succession,  mingled  with 
the  whistling  of  arrows,  and  the  clash  of  blows, 
while  loud  above  the  din  of  the  conflict  rose  the 
voice  of  Toweno,  urging  and  encouraging  his 
men. 

Besha  started  to  his  feet,  and  rushed  from 
the  tent  to  learn  whence  came  this  sudden  and 
unexpected  attacks  and  Lita  hastened  to  the 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


147 


He  of  her  mistress,  as  if  resolved  to  share  her 
ate,  whatever  that  might  be. 

Louder  and  nearer  came  the  mingled  cries 
and  yells  of  battle,  and  a  stray  rifle-ball  pierced 
the  canvass  of  the  tent,  leaving  a  rent  in  it 
close  to  the  head  of  Prairie-bird.  She  neither 
stirred  nor  spoke  ;  and  as  the  wailing  and  ter- 
rified Bending-willow,  the  daughter  and  the 
bride  of  warriors  inured  to  scenes  of  blood, 
looked  on  the  pale,  calm  cheek  of  the  Christian 
maiden,  whose  hand  still  rested  on  the  mysteri- 
ous volume,  she  felt  as  if  in  the  presence  of  a 
superior  being,  and  crept  closer  to  her  side  for 
protection  and  security. 

But  we  must  leave  the  tent  and  its  inmates, 
and  turn  to  the  scene  of  strife  without.  The 
darkness  of  night  was  giving  place  to  the  gray 
hue  of  dawn,  and  a  faint  streak  of  light  was  al- 
ready discernible  in  the  eastern  horizon,  ere 
Reginald's  party,  guided  by  Wingenund,  was 
able  to  reach  the  base  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
Osages  were  posted.  His  intention  had  been 
to  arrive  there  several  hours  sooner;,  but  he  had 
been  prevented  by  various  obstacles,  such  as 
might  be  expected  to  occur  on  a  night-march 
through  so  rugged  and  difficult  a  country,  and 
also  by  the  necessity  of  making  a  considerable 
circuit  to  avoid  being  seen  by  the  Crows  en- 
camped, as  was  before  mentioned,  on  a  hill  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  valley. 

Reginald  had  no  means  of  ascertaining  the 
force  that  might  be  left  to  guard  the  camp  and 
the  tent,  and  it  appeared  rash  in  the  extreme  to 
attempt  by  daylight  the  storming,  with  only  ten 
men,  a  position  so  fortified  by  nature,  and  de- 
fended by  warriors  familiar  with  its  local  ad- 
vantages. But  his  impetuous  ardour  had  com- 
municated itself  to  all  his  party,  and  it  was 
unanimously  agreed  that  the  attack  should  be 
made. 

In  the  sketch  before  given  of  the  Osage  camp, 
it  was  stated  that  the  hill  was  steep,  and  of  a 
conical  shape,  sloping  less  abruptly  towards  the 
valley,  while  the  front  that  it  presented  to  the 
prairie  eastward  was  precipitous  and  inaccessi- 
ble. The  attacking  party  had  made  their  ap- 
proach from  this  quarter,  rightly  conjecturing 
that  it  would  be  left  unguarded.  They  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  the  base  of  the  cliff  unper- 
ceived ;  but  in  spite  of  the  caution  with  which 
they  advanced  towards  the  more  sloping  face 
of  the  hill,  they  were  descried  by  the  enemy's 
outposts,  who  discharged  at  them  a  flight  of  ar- 
rows, uttering  at  the  same  time  the  shrill  war- 
cry,  that  had  startled  the  party  within  the  tent. 

There  being  now  light  sufficient  to  enable  the 
combatants  to  distinguish  each  other,  the  rifles 
of  the  white  men  told  with  fatal  effect,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  Crows  fell  at  their  first  fire  ;  the  re- 
mainder retreated,  fighting,  towards  the  breast- 
work above,  whither  Reginald's  party  pursued 
them  with  an  impetuosity  not  to  be  resisted. 
When,  however,  the  Crows  gained  the  protec- 
tion of  the  breastwork,  they  recovered  from 
their  temporary  panic  ;  and  animated  by  the 
example  of  Toweno,  and  the  few  Osages  with 
him,  let  fly  their  arrows  with  precision  and  ef- 
fect. 

The  leader  of  the  Osages,  and  one  of  his 
band,  were  provided  with  rifles,  and  although 
the  attacking  party  availed  themselves  of  the 

■  -  -  ''      shelter  of  trees  and  bushes  in  their 


ascent,  two  of  them  received  severe  bullet- 
wounds  from  the  marksmen  securely  posted 
above.  They  were  not  unnoticed  by  the  ouick 
eye  of  Bapliste,  who,  having  reloaded  his  long 
rifle,  deliberately  waited  until  the  Osage  beside 
Toweno  showed  the  upper  part  of  his  head 
above  the  breastwork  as  he  aimed  at  Reginald, 
now  within  pistol-shot  of  him.  The  finger  of 
the  savage  was  on  the  trigger,  when  a  ball  from 
the  rifle  of  the  Guide  struck  him  in  the  centre 
of  the  forehead,  and  with  a  convulsive  bound 
he  fell  dead  on  the  spot,  overthrowing  in  his  fall 
Toweno,  whose  rifle  was  thereby  for  the  mo- 
ment rendered  unserviceable. 

"  Forward !  Master  Reginald,"  shouted  the 
Guide  ;  "  Wingenund  is  already  at  the  breast- 
work !" 

Lighi  as  an  antelope,  and  active  as  a  moun- 
tain cal ,  the  Delaware  youth  had  distanced  all 
his  conjpanions  in  the  ascent ;  and  regardless 
of  the  fearful  odds  of  numbers  opposed  to  him, 
was  already  clambering  over  the  stockade,  when 
an  arrow  pierced  his  arm,  and  a  war-club,  hurl- 
ed with  equal  force  and  precision,  struck  him 
on  the  head,  and  he  fell  backwards  at  the  feet 
of  Reginald.  The  latter,  rendered  desperate  by 
the  fall  of  his  Indian  brother,  caught  from  Bap- 
tiste  the  huge  axe  that  hung  at  his  belt,  and 
springing  forward  to  the  stockade,  soon  hewed 
himself  a  passage  through  its  wooden  barrier — 
wounded  slightly  by  an  arrow  in  his  thigh, 
grazed  by  another  on  the  cheek,  his  hunting- 
cap  pierced  and  carried  from  his  head,  it  seem- 
ed as  though  his  life  were  charmed  against  the 
missiles  of  the  enemy — and  despite  every  ob- 
stacle, he  stood  at  length  within  the  breastwork, 
followed  by  Baptiste  and  his  brave  companions. 
The  Guide,  whose  cool  and  wary  eye  noted  ev- 
ery movement,  had  reserved  the  fire  of  the  pis- 
tols in  his  belt,  and  twice,  while  his  young  mas- 
ter was  hewing  with  reckless  daring  at  the 
tough  barrier,  had  an  unerring  ball  from  them 
rendered  powerless  an  arm  raised  for  his  de- 
struction. 

Although  still  superior  in  numbers  in  the  pro- 
portion of  two  to  one,  the  allied  band  of  Osages 
and  Crows  were  so  discouraged  by  the  storm- 
ing of  their  barrier,  that  they  offered  but  a  fee- 
ble resistance,  each  endeavouring  to  provide  for 
his  own  safety.  Toweno  alone,  aided  by  one 
of  the  bravest  warriors  of  his  band,  determined 
in  this  fatal  crisis  to  execute  the  bloody  orderat 
of  Mahega ;  and  by  a  preconcerted  signal,  as 
soon  as  Reginald  made  good  his  footing  with- 
in the  breastwork,  they  rushed  into  the  tent  of 
Prairie-bird. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  affray,  the  terri- 
fied Upsaroka  bride  had  never  moved  from  the 
side  of  our  heroine,  on  whose  countenance  she 
fixed  her  anxious  eyes,  as  if  expecting  from  hei 
some  display  of  supernatural  power  for  theii 
common  protection.  Lita  clung  also  to  the  arm 
of  her  mistress ;  and  the  Christian  maiden, 
trusting  to  that  Word  on  which  her  hand  and 
her  heart  alike  reposed,  awaited  with  patient 
resignation  the  issue  of  a  peril,  of  which  she 
knew  neither  the  nature  nor  the  extent.  That 
the  camp  was  attacked  she  was  well  aware,  by 
the  shouts  and  cries  of  the  combatants  ;  but 
who  the  attacking  party  might  be,  and  whether 
likely  to  fail  or  to  succeed,  she  had  no  means  o/ 
judging. 


148 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Besha  had  in  the  commencement  of  the  af- 
Iray  shot  several  arrows  from  the  breastwork 
at  the  invaders  ;  but  seeing  them  press  forward 
with  such  determined  resolution,  he  bethought 
himself  of  the  bride,  for  whose  safety  he  was 
responsible,  and  retired  within  the  tent,  resolv- 
ed, if  possible,  to  withdraw  her  from  the  scene 
of  confusion  while  there  might  yet  be  time  for 
escape  ;  but  Bending-willow  obstinately  refused 
to  q^iit  the  side  of  Prairie-bird,  and  he  was  still 
urging  his  entreaties  to  that  effect,  when  the 
two  Osages  burst  into  the  tent. 

"Let  the  Medicine-woman  of  the  Bad  Spirit 
file,"  shouted  Toweno,  as  he  raised  his  toma- 
hawk to  strike  ;  but  Besha  caught  the  descend- 
ing blow,  and  endeavoured  to  avert  the  murder- 
ous weapon  from  his  hold.  Meanwhile  the 
other  Osage  advanced  to  execute  the  fell  pur- 
pose of  his  leader,  when  the  devoted  Lita, 
throwing  herself  in  his  way,  clung  to  his  up- 
raised arm  with  the  strength  of  despair.  Slight, 
however,  was  the  resistance  which  she  could 
offer  ;  and  the  savage,  throwing  her  with  vio- 
lence to  the  ground,  again  raised  his  knife  above 
the  head  of  his  unresisting  victim.  Lita  shriek- 
ed aloud,  and  the  fate  of  Prairie-bird  seemed 
inevitable,  when  a  warlike  figure  burst  into  the 
tent,  and  Reginald  Brandon,  still  wielding  the 
axe  of  Baptiste,  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  group. 
His  fiery  glance  fell  upon  the  savage  about  to 
strike  his  beloved,  and  swift  as  thought  that 
terrible  weapon  descending,  clove  the  Indian's 
skull. 

By  this  time  Toweno  had  freed  himself  from 
Besha,  whom  he  had  rendered  almost  helpless 
by  two  severe  wounds  with  his  scalp-knife,  and 
he  now  flew  at  Reginald  with  the  fury  of  a  tiger 
at  bay  ;  but  the  presence  of  Prairie-bird  nerved 
her  over's  arm  with  threefold  strength,  and 
parrying  the  blow  which  his  opponent  aimed  at 
his  throat,  he  passed  his  cutlass  through  the 
body  of  the  Osage,  and  threw  him,  bleeding  and 
mortally  wounded,  several  yards  from  the  tent. 
At  this  moment  a  shout  of  triumph  without, 
raised  by  Baptiste  and  his  companions,  assured 
Reginald  that  the  victory  was  complete,  and 
that  those  of  the  enemy  who  survived  had  fled 
and  left  him  in  possession  of  the  camp.  Then 
he  cast  himself  on  his  knees  by  the  side  of  his 
betrothed,  and  as  she  leaned  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  a  flood  of  tears  relieved  the  suppress- 
ed emotions  caused  by  the  fearful  trial  that  she 
had  undergone.  Few  and  broken  were  the 
words  that  passed  between  them,  yet  in  those 
few  words  what  volumes  of  the  heart's  grateful 
and  affectionate  language  were  expressed  ! 

The  entrance  of  Baptiste  recalled  to  the  re- 
collection of  Reginald  the  duties  that  still  re- 
mained for  him  to  perform,  while  the  wounds  re- 
ceived by  Besha  in  her  defence,  pleaded  with 
the  maiden  for»Buch  remedies  as  she  had  with- 
.n  her  power.  After  briefly  explaining  to  her 
lover  the  circumstances  which  had  brought  the 
horse-dealer  and  his  still  trembling  companion 
to  her  tent,  she  sought  her  stock  of  healing  oint- 
menta  and  salves  ;  while  Reginald,  although 
slightly  wounded,  went  out  to  arrange  with 
Baptiste  and  Pierre  for  the  defence  of  their 
newly-acquired  possession,  and  to  ascertain  the 
loss  which  his  party  had  sustained.  This  last 
,  was  less  than  he  had  feared  it  might  prove  ;  and 
it  was  with  heartfelt  pleasure  that  he  shook  by 


the  hand  young  Wingenund,  who  had  recorer* 
ed  from  the  stunning  effects  of  the  blow  which 
he  had  received  in  his  gallant  attack  upon  the 
breastwork. 

"  Let  my  young  brother  go  into  the  tent,"  said  , 
Reginald  ;  rest  will  do  him  good,  and  the  eyes  i 
of  Olitipa  will  be  glad  to  see  him."  ; 

As  the  youth  turned  away,  Bapt'ste  aiJed.. 
"  Let  not  the  man  nor  the  Crow  woman  escape; 
we  may  want  them  yet." 

Wingenund  replied  by  a  sign  of  intelligence, 
and  entered  the  compartment  of  the  tent, 
where  he  found  his  sister  exercising  her  effice 
of  charity.  * 

W^  will  now  leave  Reginald  Brandon  and  b' 
party  busily  employed  in  repairing  the  bre' 
made  in  the  breastwork,  in  examining  ana 
strengthening  all  the  defences  of  the  post  (which 
they  found  much  stronger  than  they  had  ex- 
pected), and  in  making  all  the  requisite  prepara- 
tions for  the  attack  which  they  anticipated  on 
the  return  of  Mahega  and  his  Crow  allies.  The 
booty,  ammunition,  and  supplies  found  in  the 
camp,  exceeded  their  expectations,  as  in  search- 
ing the  Osage  lodges  they  discovered  all  the 
goods  stolen  by  the  latter  from  the  Delawares. 
The  eyes  of  Baptiste  and  Pierre  brightened  at 
the  sight  of  this  recovered  treasure  ;  those  ex- 
perienced hunters  well  knowing  that  the  Osage 
chief,  when  deprived  of  the  means  of  offering 
presents  or  bribes,  would  not  long  retain  the 
friendship  of  his  treacherous  allies. 

We  will  nosv  go  back  for  a  few  hours,  and 
see  with  what  success  he  met  in  the  expedition 
which  he  undertook  against  the  camp  of  War- 
Eagle.  So  confident  did  he  feel  in  its  issue 
that  he  had  prevailed  upon  two-thirds  of  the 
fighting  men  of  the  Crows  to  join  his  party, 
promising  them  abundance  of  scalps  and  plun- 
der, as  well  as  revenge  for  the  losses  which 
they  had  sustained  at  tl.e  hands  of  Reginald's 
band.  Having  already  carefully  noted  all  the 
land-marks  on  the  path  by  which  he  meant  to 
make  his  approach,  he  followed  it  with  instinc- 
tive sagacity,  and  a  few  hours'  rapid  night- 
march  along  the  base  of  the  hills  Drought  him 
to  the  opening  of  the  narrow  valley,  at  the  up- 
per extremity  of  which  the  enemy's  camp  was 
posted.  Here  they  slackened  their  speed,  and 
advanced  in  silence  with  noiseless  step,  Mahega 
stealing  onward  in  front,  darting  his  quick  glance 
from  side  to  side,  as  if  he  would  penetrate  the 
gloom,  rendered  yet  deeper  by  the  trees  and 
rocks,  beneath  which  they  wound  their  cautious 
way.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  enabled 
to  distinguish  the  site  of  the  Delaware  camp, 
by  the  ruddy  glare  cast  by  the  watch-fires  on 
the  surrounding  foliage.  The  Osage  stopped 
and  pointed  out  the  welcome  beacon  to  his  fol- 
lowers— not  a  word  was  spoken — every  warrior 
there  knew  the  preconcerted  plan  of  attack, 
and  was  aware  that  a  careless  step  upon  a  dry 
stick  might  discover  and  defeat  it.  Mahega 
carried  a  rifle,  and  the  discharge  of  it  was  to  be 
immediately  followed  by  a  flight  of  arrows  from 
his  party,  after  which  they  were  to  rush  on  the 
surprised  foe,  with  battle-axe  and  tomahawk. 
Onward  moved  the  dusky  band  ;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  fate  had  given  the  enemy  into  their  power. 
Not  a  deer  nor  mountain-cat  was  startled  from 
its  lair  to  give  warning  of  their  approach  ;  and 
.  at  length  Mahega  succeeded  in  creeping  to  the 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


149 


bushy  summit  of  a  hillock,  whence,  at  a  distance 
of  less  than  fifty  yards,  he  commanded  a  view 
»f  the  camp  below. 

"  For  once,  have  the  cunning  and  watchful- 
ness of  War-Eagle  failed  him,"  said  the  trium- 
phant Osage  to  himself,  as  he  loosened  the 
thong  of  his  war-club,  and  thrust  forward  the 
barrel  of  his  rifle. 

One  by  one  of  his  followers  crept  forward, 
until  they  lay  in  line  beside  him,  behind  the 
crest  of  the  hillock,  over  which  their  eager  eyes 
looked  down  with  savage  anticipation  upon  the 
Delaware  camp.  The  moon  had  entirely  with- 
drawn her  light,  and  all  the  scene  was  wrapt  in 
impenetrable  gloom,  save  where  the  camp-fires 
cast  a  red  glare  on  the  bark  and  branches  of  the 
surrounding  trees,  and  on  the  figures  which  lay 
around,  enveloped  in  blanket  or  in  bison-robe  ; 
no  sound  disturbed  the  deep  silence  of  the  night, 
except  the  nibbling  bite  of  the  horses  as  they 
cropped  the  cool  grass  of  the  valley  below  the 
camp.  For  a  minute  Mahega  contemplated, 
with  fierce  delight,  the  helpless  condition  of  his 
i  hated  foes,  then  taking  deliberate  aim  at  a  blan- 
keted form  supported  against  the  tree  nearest 
to  the  fires,  he  pulled  the  fatal  trigger,  and 
without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  his  shot,  he 
shouted  his  battle-cry,  and  sprang  forward  with 
ois  war-club  towards  the  camp.  Scarcely  had 
the  bullet  left  his  rifle  ere  the  Crows  discharged 
their  arrows,  each  aiming  at  the  figure  that  he 
could  the  most  easily  distinguish ;  then  they 
rushed  forward  to  complete  the  work  of  destruc- 
tion with  knife  and  tomahawk. 

Leaping  into  the  camp,  fifty  of  the  savages 
were  already  in  the  full  glare  of  its  fires,  when 
a  shrill  whistle  was  heard,  and  the  simultaneous 
report  of  a  dozen  rifles  echoed  through  moun- 
tain, forest,  and  valley.  So  near  were  the 
marksmen,  and  so  true  their  aim,  that  not  a 
bullet  failed  to  carry  a  death  or  fatal  wound; 
and  the  surviving  Crows  now  first  ascertained 
that  the  figures  which  they  had  been  piercing 
were  stuffed  with  grass,  and  wrapped  in  blan- 
kets or  robes,  so  as  to  resemble  sleeping  war- 
riors !  Great  was  their  terror  and  dismay  ; 
they  knew  neither  the  number  nor  position  of 
their  concealed  foe,  and  the  master-spirit  who 
had  led  them,  and  to  whose  guidance  they 
trusted  for  their  extrication,  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  Such  had  been  the  impetuous  haste  of 
the  Osage  to  satisfy  his  desire  for  vengeance, 
that  in  his  rapid  descent  upon  the  enemy's  camp 
*  he  had  caught  his  foot  in  a  tough  and  tangled 
ground-brier,  and  had  fallen  headlong  forwards. 
It  happened  that  the  very  spot  where  he  fell 
was  the  post  of  one  of  the  concealed  Dela wares, 
who  grappled  with  him  before  he  could  rise  to 
continue  his  course. 

Though  taken  thus  by  surprise  and  at  disad- 
vantage the  fierce  Osage  lost  not  for  a  moment 
his  courage  or  self-possession  ;  seizing  the  up- 
raised arm  of  his  antagonist,  he  wrenched  the 
knife  from  his  grasp,  and,  swift  as  thought, 
drove  it  into  the  heart  of  his  foe ;  then  tearing 
off  the  scalp,  and  suspending  it  to  his  belt,  he 
looked  upon  the  scene  of  confusion  and  slaugh- 
ter below.  A  glance  sufficed  to  show  him  that 
he  had  fallen  into  the  trap  that  he  had  prepared 
for  others,  and  that  a  continued  contest  with 
an  enemy  armed  with  rifles,  and  securely  hid- 
iea,  must  be  attended  with  great  and  unavail- 


ing loss.  His  own  person  had  not  yet  come 
within  the  light  of  the  fires,  neither  had  the 
groans  of  the  dy  ng  Delaware  been  heard  amid 
the  yells  of  the  Crow  attack,  and  the  succeed- 
ing report  of  the  guns ;  thus  was  the  Osage 
enabled  to  retire  unobserved  a  score  of  pacea 
into  the  wood,  bearing  with  him  the  yet  undis- 
charged rifle  of  the  Delaware  whom  he  had 
slain  ;  then  he  applied  his  war-whistle*  to  his 
lips,  and  blew  a  loud  and  shrill  recal. 

Glad  were  his  faithful  followers  and  the  ter- 
rified Crows  to  hear  and  obey  the  signal;  yet 
did  they  not  leave  the  scene  without  further 
loss,  for  ere  they  got  beyond  the  circle  around 
which  the  camp-fires  shed  their  uncertain  light, 
another  volley  was  fired  after  them  by  the  ene- 
my, and  although  none  were  killed  by  this  se- 
cond discharge,  many  were  so  grievously  wound- 
ed that  they  were  with  difficulty  borne  off  by 
their  companions.  It  was  some  relief  to  them 
in  their  hasty  retreat  to  find  that  they  were  not 
pursued.  Mahega  placed  himself  in  the  rear  ; 
he  even  lingered  many  yards  behind  the  rest, 
crouching  now  and  then  behind  tree  or  bush  in 
hopes  of  being  able  to  slake  his  burning  thirst 
for  revenge ;  but  in  vain,  War-Eagle  was  too 
sagacious  to  pursue  by  night,  in  an  unknown 
and  broken  country,  an  enemy  who,  although 
dismayed  and  panic-struck,  still  out-numbered 
his  band  in  the  proportion  of  three  to  one. 

"  Bloody-hand,  the  great  warrior  of  the  Osages, 
will  not  come  again  soon  to  visit  the  Lenape 
camp,"  said  War-Eagle,  in  answer  to  Ethel- 
ston's  congratulations,  as  they  stood  surrounded 
by  their  victorious  handful  of  men  on  the  spot 
whence  they  had  just  driven  the  enemy  with 
so  much  slaughter.  "  Let  Atto  count  the  dead," 
continued  the  chief,  "  and  bring  in  the  wounded^ 
if  any  are  found." 

"  War-Eagle,"  said  the  Missionary,  who  from 
his  concealment  had  been  an  unwilling  specta- 
tor of  the  late  brief,  but  sanguinary  skirmish, 
"  forbear  to  exercise  here  the  cruel  usages  of 
Indian  war  ;  let  the  wounded  be  cared  for,  and 
the  dead  be  put  to  rest  in  peace  below  the 
earth." 

"The  ears  of  War-Eagle  are  open  to  the 
Black  Father's  words,"  replied  the  chief  sternly ; 
'•  if  any  wounded  are  found,  they  shall  suffer 
no  further  hurt :  but  the  scalps  of  the  dead 
shall  hang  on  the  medicine-pole  of  the  Lenape 
village,  that  the  spirits  of  Tamenund  and  his 
fathers  may  know  that  their  children  have 
taken  vengeance  on  the  fork-tongued  Wash- 
ashe." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a 
cry  uttered  by  Atto,  who  had  found  the  body 
of  the  unhappy  Delaware  slain  by  Mahega. 
The  whole  party  hastened  to  the  spot,  and 
V/ar-Eagle,  without  speakingy.a  word,  pointed 
to  the  reeking  skull  whence  \ae  fierce  Osage 
had  torn  the  scalp. 

Paul  MuUer,  feeling  that  all  reply  would  ■->a 
ill-timed  and  unavailing,  turned  away,  and  walk- 
ed  towards   the  feeding-place  of  the  horses, 


*  Some  of  the  Indian  warriors  when  leading  a  war 
party  carry  a  shrill  whistle,  wherewith  they  direct  the 
movements  of  their  followers.  These  whistles  vary  as 
to  their  form  and  ornament  according  to  the  tribe  to  which 
the  leader  belongs.  Those  which  the  Author  has  seen  in 
most  frequent  use  were  made  from  the  bone  of  the  wild 
turkey's  leg,  and  were  fancifully  adorned  with  stained 
porcupine-quills. 


150 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


while  the  Delawares  scalpC'",  and  threw  into 
an  adjacent  hollow,  the  bod  es  of  the  Crows 
and  Osages  who  had  fallen.  Of  the  latter  they 
counted  two,  and  of  the  former  ten,  besides  a 
much  greater  number  whom  they  knew  to  have 
been  borne  ofl'  mortally  wounded. 

As  the  Missionary  strolled  onward,  accompa- 
nied by  Ethelston,  a  low  moan  cauglil  his  ear, 
and  stooping  down,  he  discerned  an  Indian 
coiled  up  in  a  position  indicative  of  intense  ago- 
ny under  the  branches  of  a  juniper.  They  car- 
ried him  back  to  the  camp-fire,  and  on  examin- 
ing him  by  its  light,  he  proved  to  be  a  young 
Crow  warrior,  shot  through  the  body,  who  had 
dragged  himself  with  difficulty  for  some  distance, 
and  had  then  fallen  exhausted  to  the  ground. 
Doubtless  he  expected  to  be  immediately  scalp- 
ed and  dispatched,  nor  etmli  he  for  some  time 
be  induced  to  believe  that  those  into  whose 
hands  he  had  fallen  were  indeed  endeavouring 
to  alleviate  his  sufferings. 

War-Eagle,  faithful  to  his  promise,  rendered 
every  assistance  in  his  power  to  the  worthy 
Missionary  while  thus  employed,-  but  it  might 
easily  be  seen  by  the  scornful  curl  of  his  lip  that 
he  looked  upon  this  care  of  an  enemy  wounded 
in  battle  as  an  absurd  and  efTeminate  practice. 

Day  broke,  and  the  dispirited  band  of  Crow 
and  Osage  warriors  returned  from  their  fruitless 
expedition,  only  to  find  a  worse  disaster  at 
home.  Great,  indeed,  was  their  dismay,  when 
tl,  -y  were  met  by  a  scout  from  their  village, 
vviio  informed  them  that  a  party  of  white  men 
had  stormed  the  Osage  camp  by  night,  and  still 
retained  possession  of  it,  having  destroyed  the 
greater  proportion  of  those  left  to  defend  it.  In 
this  description  of  the  attack,  the  height,  the 
strength,  the  daring  and  impetuous  courage  of 
the  young  warrior  who  had  led  it,  were  paint- 
ed in  colours  exaggerated  by  terror ;  yet  the 
Osage  chief  had  no  diflSculty  in  recognizing  the 
hated  rival  who  had  struck  and  disgraced  him, 
and  who  was  now  master  of  the  fate  of  her  for 
whose  sake  he  had  toiled,  and  plotted,  and  suf- 
fered so  much. 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  these  suggestions  of 
wounded  jealousy  and  pride,  he  ground  his  teeth 
with  fury  that  would  not  be  repressed,  and  he 
swore  that  before  two  suns  had  risen  and  set, 
either  he  or  his  rival,  or  both,  should  see  the 
light  of  day  no  more.  His  position  was  now 
precarious  in  the  extreme,  all  his  goods  and 
ammunition  having  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands 
excepting  that  which  he  and  his  few  remaining 
followers  had  about  their  persons.  He  knew 
that  if  he  no  longer  possessed  the  means  of  ma- 
king presents,  the  Crows  would  abandon,  if  not 
betray  him  at  once,  and  he  resolved  to  strike 
some  sudden  and  decisive  blow  before  that 
thought  should  obtain  possession  of  their  minds. 

This  resolve  imparted  again  to  his  manner  its 
usual  fierce  and  haughty  grandeur,  and,  although 
the  Crows  loved  |him  not,  they  could  not  help 
'  ooking  with  a  certain  awe  upon  the  man  who, 
amid  the  confusion  and  panic  of  the  late  disas- 
trous attack  upon  the  Delaware  camp,  had  borne 
away  from  the  victorious  enemy  the  bloody  tro- 
phy which  now  hung  at  his  belt,  and  who,  al- 
though he  had  lost  by  a  single  blow  his  lodges, 
ha  supplies,  and  the  Great  Medicine  oi  die  tent, 

I  reserved  unsubdued  the  commanding  pride  of 
is  demeanour. 


The  success  of  the  stratagem  which  he  novr 
meditated  will  appear  in  due  season  ;  meanwhile 
we  must  return  to  the  camp  of  War-Eagle,  who 
began  his  march  at  dawn  of  day  with  the  view 
of  rejoining  Reginald  and  his  band  with  the 
least  possible  delay. 

Although  he  did  not  anticipate  any  attempt 
at  reprisals  on  the  part  of  the  Crows  to  whom 
he  had  just  given  so  severe  a  lesson,  yet  he  was 
aware  of  Mahega's  having  escaped,  and  well 
knew  that  he  would  leave  untried  no  schemes 
for  obtaining  revenge. 

On  this  account  the  Delaware  chief  went  fc 
ward  to  the  front,  taking  with  him  several  ofm 
warriors,  whom  he  sent  out  from  lime  to  time 
to  examine  the  ground,  and  leaving  Atto  with 
with  Ethelston  and  Paul  Muller  to  bring  up  the 
rear.  The  latter  could  not  be  prevailed  upon 
to  abandon  the  wounded  Crow,  whom  he  had 
placed  upon  his  own  horse,  which  he  led  by  the 
bridle,  while  Ethelston  supported  the  sufferer 
in  the  saddle. 

Ever  since  the  occasion  when  Reginald  Bran- 
don had  presented  to  Atto  the  bear-claw  collar 
as  a  testimony  to  his  bravery,  the  Delaware  had 
attached  himself  more  and  more  to  the  white 
men ;  and  although,  with  the  instinctive  saga- 
city of  his  race,  he  foresaw  that  the  best  exer- 
tions of  the  two  now  in  his  company  would  fail 
to  effect  a  cure  of  the  wounded  man,  he  willing- 
ly and  good-humourediy  assisted  their  charita- 
ble endeavours. 

In  this  order  they  had  marched  for  some  hours, 
and  the  leaders  of  tlie  band  having  attained  the 
summit  of  a  ridge,  already  saw  at  no  great  dis- 
tance the  two  remarkable  hills  before  mention- 
ed as  the  favourite  encampment  of  the  Crows 
Encouraged  by  the  sight,  they  descended  the 
opposite  slope,  with  increased  speed,  War-Eagle 
being  most  anxious  to  learn  the  success  of  Reg- 
inald's detachment.  The  whole  band  had  pas- 
sed over  the  summit  of  the  ridge  excepting  the 
small  party  who  escorted  the  wounded  Crow, 
when  the  latter  grew  so  faint  from  the  effects  of 
internal  bleeding  that  they  were  no  longer  able 
to  keep  him  in  the  saddle,  and  deposited  him 
gently  on  the  grass.  The  poor  fellow  pointed 
to  his  .parched  lips,  and  made  an  imploring  sign 
for  water.  Paul  Miiller  casting  his  eyes  around, 
saw  at  a  small  distance  a  broken  ravine  or  fis- 
sure, in  which  he  hoped  that  some  rain-water 
might  be  found,  and  he  desired  Atto  to  hasten 
thither  with  all  speed, 

The  Delaware  obeyed,  and  had  approached ' 
within  a  few  paces  of  its  edge,  when  an  arrow 
from  an  unseen  enemy  pierced  him  through  the 
breast,  and  Mahega,  leaping  from  his  conceal- 
ment, killed  the  brave  fellow  with  his  club,  and 
attached  another  Lenape  scalp  to  his  belt.  He 
was  followed  by  eight  or  ten  well-armed  Crow 
warriors,  who,  passing  him  while  he  stooped 
over  his  fallen  enemy  hastened  forward  and  sur- 
rounded Paul  Miiller,  Ethelston,  and  the  wound- 
ed man.  Great  was  their  astonishment  at  re 
cognizing  in  the  latter  a  highly-esteemed 
brave  of  their  own  tribe,  and  greater  still  at  ob- 
serving that  the  two  white  men  weie  so  busily 
engaged  in  tending  and  supporting  him  in  his 
suffe«ings,  as  not  to  have  noticed  their  approach 

When  Ethelston  became  aware  of  tiieir  pre 
sence,  his  first  impulse  was  to  lay  his  hand  up 
on  a  pistol  in  his  belt,  but  with  a  steady  sell 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


151 


possession  of  true  courage,  he  saw  at  a  glance 


bush  and  shrub,  in  momentary  expectation  of 


that  he  should,  by  unavailing  resistance,  only 
cause  the  certain  death  of  himself  and  his  peace- 
able companion,  so  he  continued  his  attentions 
to  the  wounded  man,  and  poured  into  his  mouth 
the  last  few  drops  of  a  cordial  which  he  had  re- 
served in  a  leathern  flask. 

Fresh  from  the  slaughter  of  the  unfortunate 
Atto  Mahega  now  came  forward,  and  would 
have  sacrificed  the  unresisting  Missionary  to  his 
bline.  fury,  had  not  one  of  the  Crow  warriors 
caught  his  arm,  and  pointed  in  an  attitude  of 
remonstrance  to  his  wounded  comrade. 

The  Osage  perceived  at  once  that  the  time 
«va3  not  propitious  for  his  indiscriminate  revenge, 
and  contented  himself  with  explaining  by  signs 
to  his  allies  that  ere  long  the  party  now  out  of 
sight  behind  the  hill,  would  reappear  over  its 
crest  in  search  of  their  missing  companions. 

This  hint  was  not  lost  upon  the  Crows,  who 
forthwith  deprived  Ethelston  of  his  arms,  and, 
tying  him  with  a  leather  thong  to  the  Mission- 
ary, hurried  them  along  in  an  oblique  direction 
towards  an  adjoining  thicket,  while  some  of 
them  relieved  each  other  in  the  care  of  the  dy- 
ing man. 

War-Eagle  was  already  far  advanced  in  his  de- 
scent of  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side,  when  his 
progress  was  arrested  by  shouts  and  cries  from 
the  rear.  On  looking  round  he  perceived  that 
these  proceeded  from  Monsieur  Perrot,  who 
was  waving  his  arms,  and  with  other  gesticu- 
lations, indicative  of  the  greatest  excitement, 
calling  upon  the  chief  to  return. 

"  Varicle,  Varicle,  come  quick  back  !" 
Although  the  latter  had  little  regard  for  the 
character  of  the  French  valet,  he  saw  that 
something  alarming  had  occurred  ;  and  hasten- 
ing to  the  spot,  scarcely  waited  to  hear  his  ex- 
planation that  "  Monsieur  Etelston,  de  Black 
Fader,  and  de  vounded  Corbeau,  were  not  to  he 
seen,"  but  pushed  on  at  once  to  the  top  of  the 
faiil,  over  which  he  had  so  lately  passed. 

Casting  his  anxious  eyes  around,  he  looked 
in  vain  for  the  missing  members  of  his  party  ; 
but  he  saw  at  a  considerable  distance  on  the 
back  trail  the  Missionary's  pony  quietly  crop- 
ping the  prairie-grass.  Having  called  one  of 
his  men  to  his  side  and  given  him  a  few  brief 
instructions,  he  returned  speedily  towards  the 
scene  of  the  late  catastrophe,  and  on  approach- 
ing it,  found  the  scalped  and  plundered  body  of 
Atto,  from  which  the  Crows  had  carried  off  the 
arms,  the  belt,  and  the  bear-claw  collar  given 
to  him  by  Reginald.  Although  deeply  grieved 
at  the  loss  of  the  bravest  of  his  followers,  War- 
Eagle  was  too  much  inured  to  scenes  of  strife 
and  bloodshed  to  give  way  to  any  emotion  save 
the  ardent  desire  for  revenge ;  and  he  struck 
off  alone  upon  the  enemy's  trail,  some  of  his 
party  following  him  at  a  distance. 

As  he  approached  the  thicket,  his  attention 
was  caught  by  a  column  of  smoke  ascending 
from  a  point  near  the  centre  of  it ;  and  he  judg- 
ed that  the  band  must  be  very  strong,  either  in 
their  position  or  in  numbers,  if  they  could  have 
the  audacity  thus  to  light  a  camp  n re  in  defiance, 
as  it  were,  of  his  pursuit.  Influenced  by  this 
consideration,  he  waited  until  his  whole  party 
had  come  up,  when  he  again  moved  forward 
towards  the  wood,  cautiously  watching  every 


seeing  the  enemy  start  from  the  covert. 

These  precautions  seemed,  however,  alto- 
gether unnecessary  ;  for  he  reached  unmolested 
the  spot  whence  he  had  seen  the  smoke  ascend, 
and  on  his  arrival  found  that  the  fire  was  con- 
suming the  last  mortal  remains  of  some  human 
being,  whose  bones  were  mingled  with  its  dying 
embers.  This  he  knew  at  once  to  have  been 
the  wounded  Crow  who  had  expired  in  the 
arms  of  his  companions,  and  to  whom  they  had 
paid  in  their  retreat  this  hasty  funeral  rite,  to 
prevent  his  body  from  being  liable  to  any  indig- 
nities in  the  event  of  a  pursuit.  The  quiver 
and  tomahawk  of  the  deceased  warrior  were 
suspended  by  a  branch  over  his  funeral  pyre, 
and  War-Eagle  turned  from  the  spot  in  moody, 
silent  meditation.  He  felt  assured  that  the 
retreating  party  were  now  too  far  advanced  for 
him  to  overtake  them,  unless  he  gave  up  the 
idea  of  joining  Reginald  ;  and  he  thought  it  by 
no  means  improbable  that  this  attack  had  been 
devised  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  that  junc- 
tion so  important  to  the  sal'ety  of  both  parties  ; 
wherefore  he  resolved  to  effect  it  without  delay, 
and  afterwards  to  employ  all  possible  means  for 
the  recovery  of  the  prisoners. 

With  this  view  he  returned  upon  the  steps ; 
and  having  seen  the  last  honours  paid  to  the 
remains  of  the  faithful  Atto,  again  proceeded  in 
the  direction  of  the  Crow  camp. 

As  his  little  band  drew  near  upon  the  prairie 
it  was  distinctly  visible  from  both  the  fortified 
hills,  and  some  fifty  or  sixty  horsemen  galloped 
cut  from  the  higher  of  the  two,  with  the  appa- 
rent intention  of  attacking  him  ;  but  the  steady 
front  presented  by  the  white  men  and  Dela  wares 
deterred  them  from  approaching  too  near  the 
glittering  tubes  levelled  to  receive  them,  and 
they  galloped  and  wheeled  in  rapid  circles  over 
the  prairie,  taking  care,  however,  to  keep  be- 
yond rifle  range.  At  this  juncture  the  cheering 
notes  of  a  bugle  rose  on  the  air  ;  and  Reginald, 
who  had  descried  his  friends,  now  came  down 
with  two  men  from  his  little  garrison  to  meet 
them.  The  Crows,  seeing  that  further  opposi- 
tion on  the  open  ground  was  unavailing,  retired 
with  threats  and  yells  to  their  camp  ;  and  a  few 
minutes  afterwards  the  parties  under  War- 
Eagle  and  Reginald  were  reunited  within  the 
little  fortress  so  hardly  won  by  the  latter,  who 
now  learnt,  with  unspeakable  regret,  the  cap- 
ture of  Ethelston  and  Paul  Miiller,  and  the  death 
of  the  brave  warrior  who  had  shared  with  hira 
the  perils  of  the  first  skirmish  with  the  Crows. 


4^ 


CHAPTER  XXXVni. 

The  negotiation  set  on  foot  by  Reginald  for  the  release  oi 

his  friends. — Besha  becomes  an  importaRt  personage, 
uitus  r  mm 

Scarcely  had  War-Eagle  entered  within  the 
breastwork  by  the  side  of  his  friend,  ere  his 
eager  and  indefatigable  spirit  prompted  him  to 
inspect  the  defences  of  their  new  camp,  and  to 
guard  every  approach  open  to  the  attacks  of 
their  dangerous  neighbours.  On  this  service 
Baptiste  willingly  agreed  to  accompany  the 
chief;  and  while  they  were  thus  employed, 
Reginald  undertook  the  painful  task  of  commu- 


153 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


nicating  to  Prairie-bird  the  intelligence  that  her 
beloved  instructor  was,  with  his  friend  Ethel- 
ston,  a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the  Crows. 

Trials  and  sufferings  of  her  own  the  maiden 
could  bear  with  fortitude ;  but  her  feelings  to- 
wards the  missionary  were  those  of  the  fondest 
daughter  towards  a  parent ;  and  when  she 
thought  of  the  risk  that  he  incurred  of  ill-usage 

r  death  at  the  hands  of  his  captors,  she  burst 
nlo  tears,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Reginald ! 
rannot  he  be  rescued  ere  it  be  too  late?' 

At  the  sound  of  that  voice,  and  the  sight  of 
those  tears,  Reginald's  heart  would  have  prompt- 
ed him  to  rush  headlong  into  the  camp  of  the 
Upsarokas ;  but  he  felt  that  he  would  thereby 
only  sacrifice  his  own  life  without  effecting  the 
object  in  view;  and,  moreover,  he  was  by  no 
means  certain  whether  Mahega  and  his  party  had 
conveyed  their  prisoners  to  the  central  camp. 

The  doubt  and  anxiety  of  his  mind  were 
plainly  visible  on  his  countenance,  when  a  low 
voice  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  May  Wingenund 
speak  to  Netis?" 

"  Surely,  dear  brother,"  said  Reginald,  laying 
his  hand  kindly  on  the  youth's  shoulder,  "  when 
I  remember  that  it  was  Wingenund  who  guided 
me  over  the  prairie  to  his  sister's  tent,  I  were 
worse  than  ungrateful  to  reject  his  counsel 
now  !" 

"That  young  woman,"  he  replied,  pointing 
to  the  captive  bride  seated  in  the  corner  of  the 
tent,  "  is  dear  to  the  Upsaroka  chief;  she  is  his 
youngest  wife,  and  his  heart  is  warm  towards 
her.  Let  the  one-eyed  stranger  from  the  un- 
known tribes,  who  speaks  many  tongues,  go 
back  to  the  Crow  camp,  and  tell  the  chief  that 
if  his  priseners  are  hurt,  his  bride  shall  be  burnt 
alive  ;  if  they  are  set  free,  she  shall  return  un- 
hurt to  his  lodge." 

♦'  It  is  a  brave  device,  dear  Wingenund,  and 
shall  be  executed  without  loss  of  time  ;  but  can 
we  trust  the  stranger  1" 

"Methinks  yoi  nay,"  said  Prairie-bird,  "for 
he  received  his  wound  in  defending  me  from 
those  cruel  men." 

"  True,"  replied  Reginald  ;  "  let  my  brother 
speak  to  him  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  and  ex- 
plain the  message  he  is  to  bear." 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  the  youth ;  adding, 
with  an  arch  look,  "  and  let  Netis  not  send  him 
away  with  empty  hands.  There  is  cunning  in 
the  stranger's  eye,  he  knows  that  Mahega  is 
poor;  and  he  will  rather  make  friends  with 
those  who  have  something  to  give." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Reginald  laughing ;  and  he 
forthwith  desired  one  of  his  men  to  select  from 
a  package  containing  knives,  powder,  tobacco, 
and  cloth,  a  quantity  equal  to  the  usual  Indian 
price  for  a  horse.  Wingenund,  having  waited 
in  silence  the  return  of  the  messenger,  addressed 
the  prisoner  as  follows  : — 

"Has  the  stranger  a  name  in  his  tribe  1" 

"  He  is  called  Besha  in  the  southern  prairies." 

"  Besha  dwells  among  the  Crows.  They 
have  shed  the  blood  of  white  men  and  Dela- 
wares  in  battle ;  his  scalp  belongs  to  those  who 
have  taken  him." 

The  horse-dealer  bowed  in  silence,  and  the 
youth  continued. 

"  But  the  heart  of  the  white  chief  is  great ; 
he  will  not  take  Besha's  life,  neither  will  he  bind 
his  hmbj.    Besha  is  free  to  go  where  he  likes." 


The  horse-dealer  stared  as  if  he  did  not  quite 
believe  his  ears ;  but  Wingenund,  without  ap- 
pearing to  notice  his  surprise,  proceeded. 

"  That  is  not  all.  Besha  received  a  wound  in 
defending  Olitipa  from  the  Washashe.  The 
white  chief's  hand  is  open  ;  it  is  quick  to  re- 
ward good  deeds,  and  to  punish  bad  ones ;  tho 
presents  in  that  package,  of  knives  and  cloth, 
tobacco  and  powder,  are  for  Besha  ;  he  may  re- 
turn to  the  Upsaroka  camp,  and  his  friends  shall 
not  say  that  he  comes  with  empty  hands." 

The  deep-set  eye  of  the  horse-dealer  gleamed 
with  pleasure,  as  he  fixed  it  on  the  welcome 
bale,  and  heard  these  words.  His  first  move- 
ment was  to  rise  from  the  ground,  and  place  the 
right  hands  of  Reginald  and  of  Wingenund  on 
his  heart  in  token  of  gratitude  ;  then  turning  to- 
wards the  latter,  he  inquired,  "  Is  there  a  dark 
cloud  over  the  Upsaroka  bride?  Will  the  white 
chief  kill  her,  or  make  her  a  slaved" 

"  Let  Besha  open  his  ears,"  replied  the  youth, 
earnestly,  "  and  let  not  the  wind  blow  away  good 
counsel.  The  Washashe  and  the  Upsaroka  have 
taken  captive  two  white  men  from  this  band ; 
these  have  killed  no  red  man  ;  they  have  dono 
no  harm.  If  any  hurt  be  done  to  them,  or  thei. 
lives  be  taken,  the  Upsaroka  bride  shall  be  burn 
before  the  next  setting  sun  ;  but  if  they  are  sen 
back  free  and  unhurt,  she  shall  return  to  he 
husband  the  same  hour,  and  a  present  foui 
times  as  great  as  this  shall  be  given  to  Besha.'^ 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  youth  placed  the 
package  in  the  horse-dealer's  hands,  and  made 
him  a  sign  to  go.  Before  obeying  this  hint,  the 
latter  whispered  a  few  words  to  Bending- willow, 
in  which  he  comforted  her  with  the  assurance 
that  he  would  labour  incessantly  for  her  release ; 
after  which  he  departed  towards  the  Crow  camp, 
with  a  gait  somewhat  tottering  and  uncertain, 
from  the  joint  effect  of  the  weight  of  his  bur- 
den and  the  wound  that  he  had  so  lately  re- 
ceived. 

We  will  now  leave  Reginald  engaged  in  the 
sad,  yet  dear  employment  of  comforting  his  be- 
trothed, and  striving,  by  a  thousand  suggestions, 
to  relieve  her  anxiety  respecting  the  fate  of  her 
beloved  instructor,  and  her  lover's  friend.  Nei- 
ther will  we  follow  War-Eagle  and  Baptiste  in 
securing  the  important  post  which  they  had  so 
unexpectedly  won  ;  but  we  will  return  to  the 
Crow  camp,  where  Mahega  had  newly  arrived 
with  his  prisoners,  and  where  everything  was 
in  a  state  of  alarm  and  confusion. 

Great  had  been  the  panic  consequent  on  the 
double  defeat  which  they  had  sustained  ;  nor 
had  its  effects  been  entirely  removed  by  the 
successful  blow  last  struck  by  Mahega,  and  the 
capture  of  the  two  white  men.  The  Osage 
chief  had  lost  all  his  warriors,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  four,  his  baggage  and  ammunition  were 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  he  well  knew 
that  his  only  remaining  chance  of  retaining  the 
support  of  his  allies,  was  in  vigorously  pursuing 
the  success  which  he  had  so  opportunely  gained. 
The  Crow  chief,  on  the  other  hand,  dishearten- 
ed by  the  loss  and  disgrace  which  had  befallen 
his  tribe,  and  vexed  beyond  measure  at  the  de- 
tention of  his  son's  favourite  wife,  justly  attribu- 
ted both  these  misfortunes  to  an  alliance  which 
had  brought  no  increase  either  to  his  power  c» 
his  wealth. 
Such  was  the  state  of  parties  when  the  coud 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD 


153 


ell  of  the  Upsarokas  met  to  decide  upon  the  fate 
of  their  prisoners.  The  debate  being  carried  on 
m  their  own  language,  Mahega  was  unable  to 
gather  the  sentiments  of  the  several  speakers, 
and  he  declined  to  sit  in  the  circle,  but  stood 
leaning  against  the  outer  post  of  the  council 
lodge,  his  quick  eye  bent  upon  the  countenance 
of  each  successive  speaker,  as  if  he  would  read 
there  the  purport  of  his  harangue.  One  fierce 
and  hot-headed  warrior  proposed  that  the  pris- 
oners should  be  instantly  put  to  death,  and  a 
sudden  attack  be  made  with  their  whole  force 
on  the  opposite  hill,  which  would  be  easily  re- 
covered, and  an  abundance  of  plunder  acquired. 
An  older  Indian  next  addressed  the  meeting  in 
a  persuasive  tone,  that  suited  well  the  sharp 
and  cunning  expression  of  his  countenance.  He 
argued,  that  the  Crows  had  derived  no  advan- 
tage, but  rather  loss  and  misfortune,  from  their 
alliance  with  Mahega,  and  that  it  was  their  in- 
terest to  make  friends  with  the  newly-arrived 
band,  who  were  more  rich  and  powerful ;  where- 
fore he  advised  that  the  lives  of  the  prisoners 
should  for  the  present  be  spared. 

The  debate  was  at  its  height,  and  the  assem- 
bly apparently  divided  in  opinion,  when  Besha 
entered  the  council-lodge,  and  sat  down  in  the 
outer  circle  near  to  the  entrance.  All  eyes  were 
turned  to  him,  as  the  report  of  his  capture  had 
already  spread  through  the  village,  and  his 
wasted  appearance,  as  well  as  the  bandages 
over  his  neck  and  arm,  showed  that  he  had 
been  wounded  in  the  late  affray.  After  a  brief 
silence,  the  chief  desired  that  he  would  relate 
what  had  occurred,  a  command  which  the 
horse-dealer  obeyed  without  hesitation. 

Although  not  gifted  with  any  orational  powers, 
he  was  a  shrewd  fellow,  thoroughly  versed  in 
all  the  wiles  of  Indian  diplomacy ;  and  well 
aware,  as  a  resident  guest  among  the  Crows, 
that  his  best  chance  of  a  favourable  hearing  was 
to  frame  his  speech  according  to  their  interests, 
which  happened  in  the  present  instance  to  tally 
with  his  own.  In  relating  the  events  which  had 
occurred  in  the  opposite  camp,  he  exaggerated 
the  strength  and  wealth  of  the  enemy,  dwelhng 
at  large  upon  the  clemency  shown  to  himself, 
and  upon  the  desire  evinced  for  peace  ;  stating, 
in  conclusion,  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  a  speci- 
fic message,  or  proposal,  to  the  great  chief  At 
this  announcement  there  was  a  general  murmur 
of  curiosity,  and  Mahega  bit  his  lip  with  vexa- 
tion at  his  inability  to  understand  what  was 
going  on. 

At  a  signal  from  the  chief,  Besha  proceeded 
to  inform  the  council  that  Bending-willow,  the 
bride  of  their  lavourite  and  absent  war-leader, 
was  now  a  captive  ;  and  he  recounted  feithfully 
the  circumstances  under  which  she  had  visited 
the  white  tent  with  him,  and  the  terrible  threats 
1  eld  out  respecting  her  in  the  event  of  any  in- 
jury being  done  to  the  white  prisoners.  The 
efiect  of  this  announcement  was  so  great,  that 
•it  was  visible  even  to  Mahega  ;  nor  was  he  sur- 
prised when  Besha  explained  to  him,  by  order 
of  the  chief,  that  the  council  had  decided  upon 
sparing  the  lives  of  the  white  men,  at  least  un- 
til the  return  of  the  war-leader  and  his  band  of 
braves,  now  absent  on  a  foray  into  the  country 
jf  the  Black-feet. 

Agreeably  to  this  decision,  Paul  Muller  and 
Ethelston  were  confined  In  a  lodge  adjoining 


that  of  the  chief,  under  a  Crow  guard,  to  whom 
strict  orders  were  given  to  prevent  their  escape, 
and  also  to  protect  them  against  any  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Mahega  or  his  followers.  Be^ha 
was  allowed  to  see  them,  and  they  learnt  from 
him  that  their  friends  had  been  completely  suc- 
cessful, and  had  re-«aptured  the  Great  Medicine 
of  the  tent,  as  well  as  the  ammunition  and  bag- 
gage. He  further  informed  them,  that  he  would 
do  all  in  his  power  to  effect  their  release ;  add- 
ing a  significant  hint  that  he  should  not  be  un- 
willing to  receive  tangible  proofs  of  their  grati- 
tude. 

The  captives  were,  upon  the  wl/)Ie,  much 
comforted  by  this  interview ;  and  on  his  de- 
parture, Ethelston  said,  addressing  his  com- 
panion, "  Reverend  father,  we  have  cau^  to  be 
grateful  for  the  intelligence  communicated  to  us 
by  this  man,  inasmuch  as  we  expected  no  less 
than  to  be  put  to  an  immediate,  and  perhaps  a 
cruel  death.  Yet,  methinks,  for  a  messenger 
of  good  tidings,  he  has  the  most  uncomely  and 
villainous  countenance  that  ever  I  beheld." 

"  I  will  not  say  that  his  face  recommends 
him,"  said  Paul  Muller,  smiling;  "albeit,  the 
expression  thereof  may  have  been  altered  for 
the  worse  by  the  loss  of  an  eye.  I  have  seen 
him  more  than  once  before  among  the  tribes 
bordering  upon  the  Mexican  frontier,  and  if  my 
memory  serves  me,  he  bore  the  reputation  of 
being  a  crafty  and  designing  knave  in  his  voca- 
tion ;  but  I  never  heard  him  charged  with  cruel- 
ty, or  thirst  of  blood." 

"  What,  then,  do  you  think,  are  the  motives 
for  the  friendly  exertions  which  he  professes  to 
make  in  our  behalf  T' 

"  We  will  hope  that  they  are  partly  owing  to 
a  grateful  sense  of  the  treatment  he  has  experi- 
enced at  the  hands  of  our  friend  Reginald,  and 
partly  from  the  expectation  of  presents  and 
rewards,  which  the  Osage  is  no  longer  in  a  con- 
dition to  offer.  Meanwhile,  we  must  solace  our- 
selves in  our  captivity  with  the  reflection,  that 
my  beloved  pupil  is  safe  under  the  charge  of 
friends,  upon  whose  fidelity  and  devotion  we 
can  fully  rely." 

Leaving  the  captives  to  comfort  each  other 
with  these  and  other  similar  suggestions,  we 
will  return  to  Reginald  Brandon,  who  forgot  not, 
even  in  the  enjoyment  of  Prairie-bird's  society, 
to  occupy  himself  constantly  in  devising  plans 
for  their  liberation.  In  these  he  was  warmly 
seconded  by  War-Eagle  and  Baptiste ;  but,  after 
carefully  reconnoitring  the  Crow  camp,  they 
agreed  that  it  was  too  strong  to  be  carried  by 
open  attack  by  their  small  party,  especially  as 
they  had  learnt  from  Besha,  that  the  husband 
of  Bending-willow,  the  son  of  the  Great  Chief, 
had  just  returned  with  his  band,  consisting  of 
fifty  chosen  warriors,  from  a  successful  foray 
into  the  Black-foot  country. 

The  wily  horse- dealer  was  allowed,  in  hia 
mixed  capacity  of  interpreter  and  envoy,  to  pass 
from  camp  to  camp ;  and  as  both  parties  were 
desirous  of  securing  his  co-operation,  presents 
were  liberally  heaped  upon  him,  and  his  grey 
eye  twinkled  as  he  cast  it  upon  the  increasing 
pile  of  goods  at  the  back  of  his  lodge.  "There 
will  soon  be  enough  to  exchange  for  a  hundred 
beaver-skins,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  then  Besha 
will  look  for  some  fine  horses,  and  go  toward* 
the  east." 


164 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD 


While  he  was  thus  congratulating  himself  on 
his  prospects  of  future  wealth,  a  tall  figure  dark- 
ened the  entrance  of  his  lodge,  and  the  young 
war-chief  stood  before  him.  "  White-Bull* 
would  speak  with  Besha,"  said  the  former  in  a 
haughty  tone,  adjusting  with  dignity  the  cream- 
coloured  robe  from  which  he  took  his  designa- 
tion. 

"  Let  the  young  chief  be  seated,"  replied  the 
horse-dealer,  making  at  the  same  time  a  signal 
to  one  of  his  lads  to  offer  food  and  a  pipe  to  his 
|uest. 

White-Bull's  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  this 
hospitality,  but  he  checked  it,  and  having  tasted 
a  morsel,  and  emitted  two  voluminous  puffs  of 
pmoke  from  the  pipe,  he  turned  to  the  horse- 
dealei,  and  said  in  a  stern,  deep  tone,  "  Bending- 
willovv  is  a  prisoner  in  the  white  tent ;  Besha 
took  her  there,  he  must  bring  her  back,  for  the 
heart  of  White-Bull  is  dark — there  is  no  light 
or  pleasure  without  her." 

"  The  will  of  the  bride  was  strong,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  she  would  take  no  counsel  from  Besha  ; 
if  he  did  not  go  with  her,  she  would  go  alone, 
to  consult  the  Medicine  of  the  tent ;  Besha  went 
with  her  that  none  might  do  her  harm." 

"  The  ears  of  White-Bull  are  not  to  be  tick- 
led by  the  songs  of  birds,"  said  the  young  chief, 
fiercely.  "  Besha  took  her  to  the  white  men's 
camp,  and  he  must  bring  her  back  before  two 
suns  have  set,  or  his  heart  shall  be  cut  out  from 
his  body." 

"  White-Bull  knows  that  there  are  two  white 
prisoners  here,  let  him  give  them  to  Besha,  and 
he  will  bring  back  Bending-willow  before  the 
sun  is  in  the  west." 

"  The  white  prisoners  belong  to  the  war-coun- 
cil," said  the  young  man  sullenly.  "  White-Bull 
eares  not  whether  they  live  or  die  ;  but  he 
wants  his  bride,  whom  the  fool  Besha  led  away 
to  a  place  where  she  was  caught  like  a  beaver 
in  a  trap;  if  he  does  not  bring  her  back  within 
two  sun-sets,  the  blade  of  this  knife  shall  be  red. 
White-Bull  has  spoken,  and  his  words  are  not 
wind  !"  So  saying,  the  violent  youth  passed 
with  angry  strides  from  the  horse-dealer's  lodge. 

Besha  now  found  himself  in  an  awkward 
predicament,  in  endeavouring  to  extricate  him- 
self from  which,  his  first  step  was  to  consult 
the  young  chief's  father,  hoping  that  the  latter 
would  give  his  consent  at  once  to  release  the 
prisoners  for  the  recovery  of  the  favourite  bride. 
But  the  old  man  would  not  agree  to  the  propo- 
sal, giving  as  his  reason,  that  the  council  had 
resolved  either  to  take  the  lives  of  the  prison- 
ers, or  to  make  the  enemy  pay  many  horses  and 
much  goods  for  their  ransom.  "  Besha  has  a 
tongue,"  continued  the  crafty  old  man.  "  He 
can  speak  with  the  white  men  ;  he  can  tell  them 
that  if  the  bride  is  given  up  their  friends  shall 
be  returned,  they  will  believe  him,  and  all  will 
be  veil." 

"  Besha,  though  not  particularly  scrupulous 
in  his  morality,  was  startled  at  first  by  this  pro- 
posal of  treacherous  and  deliberate  falsehood 
towards  one  who  had  spared  his  life,  and  had 
given  him  his  liberty,  besides  loading  him  with 


*  It  was  at  one  time  currently  rumoured  anion?  the 
trapiiers  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  that  a  Crow  warrior  had 
found  and  killed  a  white  bison-bull,  the  skin  of  which  he 
wore  as  a  robe.  The  story,  whether  true  or  false,  is 
adopted  here,  and  assigned  to  the  husband  of  "  Bending- 
willow." 


I  presents  ;  but  his  conscience  being  of  an  ex- 
i  tremely  elastic  texture,  he  soon  reconciled  him 
self  to  the  idea  by  the  reflection  that  it  was  his 
best,  if  not  his  only  chance  of  saving  his  life  from 
the  fury  of  the  incensed  White-Bull.  He  made 
no  reply  to  the  old  chief ;  but,  as  he  went  away, 
the  two  rogues  exchanged  a  look  which  satis- 
fied them  that  they  understood  each  other. 

The  horse-dealer  proceeded  without  delay  to 
the  lodge  where  Paul  Miiller  and  Ethelstoa 
were  confined,  into  which  he  was  admitted  by 
their  guards.  Having  explained  to  the  Mission- 
ary that  he  was  about  to  visit  the  white  men's 
camp  for  the  purpose  of  liberating  him  and  his 
companion  by  the  recovery  of  the  captive  bride, 
he  desired  to  be  furnished  with  a  sign  by  which 
they  would  be  induced  to  give  her  up  without 
hesitation ;  for  Besha,  in  his  rambles  on  the 
Mexican  frontier,  had  frequently  met  with  the 
Spanish  traders,  and  although  he  could  not  read 
letters  himself,  he  knew  how  they  were  used  for 
the  interchange  of  communication  at  a  distance. 

Before  giving  any  reply,  Paul  Miiller  explain- 
ed the  state  of  affairs  to  his  companion,  and 
asked  his  counsel. 

"  Methinks  we  should  trust  the  fellow,"  said 
Ethelston,  "  for  he  has  hitherto  befriended  us  : 
but  let  us  not  write  anything  that  can  endanger 
the  safety  of  Prairie-bird." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  my  son,"  he  replied,  "  and 
will  write  accordingly." 

So  saying,  he  took  a  small  pocket-book  from 
his  breast,  and  wrote  with  a  pencil  upon  a  leaf 
of  it  the  following  words  : 

"  Ethelston  and  Paul  Miiller  send  their  affec- 
tionate greeting.  The  bearer  says  that  he  can 
liberate  them  if  the  captive  bride  is  restored. 
Reginald  Brandon  will  consult  with  those  about 
him,  and  do  what  he  thinks  best.  Let  the  safety 
of  Prairie-bird,  and  of  those  who  are  now  her 
protectors,  be  the  first  object.  Glad  and  thank- 
ful should  we  be  to  embrace  our  dear  friends 
again  ;  but  we  are  well  and  cheerful  here ;  in 
joy  and  in  sorrow,  in  life  and  in  death,  we  are 
in  the  hands  of  One  who  rules  all  for  the  best 
Farewell." 

Having  received  the  paper,  Besha  lost  no 
time  in  setting  off  to  the  opposite  camp 


CHAPTER  .XXXIX. 

David  Muir  and  his  Daughter  pay  a  Visit  to  Colonel  Unm 
don. — The  Merchant  Incomes  ambitious. — He  euteru^im* 
Projects  for  .lessie's  future  Welfare,  which  do  not  coin- 
cide with  that  young  Lady's  Wishes. 

While  the  events  related  in  the  preceding 
chapters  were  passing  in  the  Great  Western 
Wilden»ess,  the  days  of  early  summer  glided 
smoothly  on  at  Mooshanne,  uninterrupted  by 
any  incident  worthy  of  record.  Aunt  Alary 
continued  her  round  of  busy  occupation  with 
her  usual  indefatigable  activity.  Never  could 
there  occur  in  the  neighbourhood  a  ca.se  of  sick- 
ness or  of  sorrow  to  which  she  did  not  hasten 
to  administer  the  needful  consolation ;  and  in 
the  town  of  Marietta  her  tenevolent  exenjona 
were  assisted  by  Jessie  Muir,  whose  attendance 
in  her  father's  store  enabled  her  to  gather  all  the 
current  news  from  the  numerous  customers  who 
frequented  it. 

"  The  Merchant"  (for  so  David  Muir  was 
designated  by  all  who  did  not  wish  to  affront 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


155 


siin)  grew  daily  in  importance  and  dignity. 
His  speculations  in  trade  had  been,  for  tlie  most 
part,  successful,  and  two  or  three  of  his  sugges- 
tions for  the  improvement  of  the  town  had  been 
adopted.  A  sharp  attack  of  fever  had  subdued 
for  a  season  the  domineering  spirit  of  Dame 
Christie,  and  David  found  himself  not  only  re- 
spected by  the  neighbours,  but  even  enjoyed  the 
sweet,  though  brief  delusion,  that  he  was  master 
in  his  own  house. 

Neither  his  pride  nor  his  increasing  wealth 
interrupted,  however,  his  close  attention  to  busi- 
ness ;  and  Colonel  Brandon,  finding  that  the  af- 
fairs entrusted  to  him  were  managed  with  great 
punctuality  and  skill,  treated  him  with  corre- 
sponding confidence. 

On  a  fine  summer's  morning,  about  a  month 
after  Ethelston's  departure  for  the  Far- "West, 
the  merchant's  four-wheeled  chaise  stood  befoj-e 
his  door,  drawn,  not  by  a  sorry  pony,  but  by  a 
strong  horse,  the  condition  and  appearance  of 
which  betokened  the  thriving  circumstances  of 
the  owner,  Jessie  Muir,  wearing  a  very  be- 
coming bonnet,  and  a  shawl  newly  arrived  from 
England,  had  just  cast  a  passing  look  into  the 
oval  mirror  in  the  back  parlour,  and  was  busily 
employed  in  giving  directions  respecting  the 
contents  of  a  parcel  about  to  be  placed  in  the 
seat  of  the  chaise,  while  Henry  Gregson  was 
listening,  with  ill-dissemble_  impatience,  to  the 
repeated  cautions  given  to  him  by  David  as  to 
his  conduct  during  the  brief  absence  which  he 
meditated. 

"Noo,  Hairy"  (for  thus  was  the  name  of 
Harry  pronounced  in  David's  north-country 
dialect),  "  ye  maun  be  vera  carefu'  o'  the  store, 
and  see  that  the  lads  attend  weel  to  the  folk  wha 
come  to  buy,  and  that  Jane  stays  aye  amang  the 
caps  an'  shawls  and  printed  cottons,  instead  of 
keekin  out  o'  the  window  at  a  wheen  idle  ne'er- 
do-weels  in  the  street;  and  as  for  the  last  lot  of 
Bohea,  ye  can  truly  say  it's  the  finest  that  ever 
cam'  to  Marietta;  I'm  thinkin'  the  minister's 
wife  will  be  fain  to  buy  a  pun'  or  twa.  And, 
Hairy,  mind  that  ye  ...  .  but  the  deil's  in  the 
lad !  What  are  ye  glow'ring  at,  over  my  shoul- 
der, as  if  ye  se'ed  a  wraith,  an'  no  listening  to 
what  I'm  sayin'  1" 

Here  the  merchant  turned  round,  and  his  eye 
happening  to  fall  upon  a  parcel  of  fire-irons,  so 
carelessly  placed  on  an  upper  shelf  that  they 
threatened  the  destruction  of  a  pile  of  crockery 
below,  he  ordered  the  shop-boy  to  secure  the 
offending  tohgs,  and,  turning  to  Harry,  con- 
tinued in  a  more  complacent  tone,  "  It's  nae 
wonder,  lad,  that  ye  could  na  tak'  your  een  off 
they  irons ;  they  had  like  to  make  an  awfu' 
smash  amang  the  cups  and  saucers;  I'm  glad 
tc  see  that  ye're  so  canny  and  carefu'  o'  the 
goods." 

Harry  bit  his  lips,  and  made  no  reply,  while 
the  merchant,  who  had  already  seen  Jessie  take 
her  seat  in  the  chaise,  was  preparing  to  follow, 
when  he  turned  to  the  young  man,  and  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  "Ye'U  no  forget  that  the  mistress 
will  need  her  gruel  at  rnidday  V 

"  I  will  take  cai'e  that  it  is  not  forgotten  ;  and 
I  suppose,  sir,  the  glass  of  French  brandy  is  to 
be  put  into  it"?" 

"  Glass  o'  French  brandy,  ye  daft  chiel,"  said 
the  merchant,  forgetting  for  a  moment. the  pru- 
dential whisper;  then  resuming  it,  he  added, 
"  Wha  talks  o'  glasses  o'  French  brandy  1  Ye 
ken,  tho',  that  the  mistress  has  no  gotten  her 
strength  yet,  and  she  said  she  would  like  just 


four  spoonfu's  o'  brandy  in  the  gruel,  to  gie't  a 
taste  and  keep  the  cauld  out  o'  her  wame.  Ya 
ken  the  mistress's  ain  spoon  in  the  tea-cup- 
board 1" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  it  well,"  replied  Harry, 
Avith  demure  gravity,  adding,  half  aloud,  as  his 
principal  drove  from  the  door,  "  and  a  preciouj 
gravy-spoon  it  is ;  before  it  is  four  times  filled 
and  emptied  it  will  make  the  largest  wine-glass 
in  the  store*run  over  the  brim,  and  the  old  lady's 
tongue  go  like  a  mill-wheel.  Never  mind,  for 
Jessie's  sake  I'll  brew  the  gruel  as  stilf  as  my 
father's  grog,  and  bear  Dame  Christie's  scolds 
without  complaint." 

"  He's  a  canny,  douce  lad,  yon  Hairy,"  said 
the  merchant  to  his  daughter,  as  they  jolted 
leisurely  along  the  uneven  but  picturesque  road 
that  led  from  Marietta  to  Mooshanne,  "and 
does  na'  care  to  rin  about  the  toon  like  other 
idle  gillies,  but  seems  aye  content  to  min'  the 
store.  Did  ye  see,  Jessie,  how  he  caught,  wi' 
ae  blink  o'  his  ee,  the  aims  that  were  about  to 
fa'  amongst  my  best  Wedgewoodi" 

Had  the  merchant  not  been  occupied,  as  he 
put  this  question,  in  guiding  the  wheels  between 
sundry  deep  ruts  and  holes  in  the  road,  he  could 
not  have  failed  to  observe  the  heightened  colour 
that  it  brought  into  Jessie's  countenance ;  for 
the  maiden  was  conscious  that,  at  the  moment 
referred  to,  Harry's  gaze  had  been  fixed,  not 
upon  the  fire-irons  or  the  Wedgewood,  but  upon 
her  own  comely  self. 

It  is  one  of  the  peculiar  properties  and  tri- 
umphs of  love  that,  not  content  with  securing  its 
own  position  in  the  human  heart,  it  delights  in 
unsettling  and  metamorphosing  the  tenants  Dy 
which  it  was  previously  occupied.  Under  its 
wayward  sway  boldness  becomes  timidity  and 
fierceness  is  transformed  into  gentleness,  while 
bashfulness  is  rendered  bold,  and  simplicity  has 
recourse  to  the  device?  of  cunning  ! 

Thus  Jessie  Muir,  who  was  naturally  of  a 
frank,  open  disposition,  but  who  had  a  secret 
presentiment  that  her  father  would  reject  the 
suit  of  her  lover  if  it  were  now  to  be  declared, 
acquiesced  demurely  in  his  observation  respect 
ing  the  attention  shown  by  Harry  Gregson  to 
the  business  of  the  store. 

"  Weel,  a-weel,"  continued  the  merchant, 
"  he's  a  gude  lad,  and  no  ill-faured  neither;  I'm 
thinkin',  Jessie,  that  he  and  Jean  will,  maybe, 
fancy  each  other ;  they're  aye  thegither  i'  the 
store,  an'  the  bit  lassie  might  gae  further  and 
fare  waur  than  by  takin'  up  wi'  Hairy." 

This  speech  was  too  much  for  Jessie's  equa- 
nimity ;  the  coolness  with  which  her  father 
spoke  of  his  servant-maid  "  takln'  up"  with  her 
lover  stung  her  to  the  quick,  and  she  replied, 
tartlv,  "  Father,  I  wish  you  would  mind  your 
driving  among  these  holes  and  stumps,  instead 
of  talking  about  Jean  and  her  idle  nonsense. 
Indeed,  father,  that  last  jolt  nearly  threw  me  out 
of  the  chaise." 

"  Weel,  Jessie,  ye  need  na  mak'  such  a  pother 
about  a  stump  mair  or  less  at  ween  Marietta  and 
Mooshanne;  and  though  I'll  no  say  that  my 
drivin'  is  like  that  of  Jehu,  the  son  of  Jehosha- 
phat,  ye  need  na  fear  that  I'll  coup  the  braw 
new  chaise  for  a'  that." 

Jessie  was  well  pleased  to  have  turned  her 
father's  thoughts  into  another  channel,  and  be- 
ing a  little  asham.ed  of  the  momentary  irritation 
to  which  she  had  given  way,  she  now  exerted 
herself  to  please  and  amuse  him,  in  which  she 
succeeded  so  well  that  they  reached  Mooshanne 


IS6 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


in  cheerful  mood,  and  with  wheels  uninjured  by 
hole  or  stump. 

Colonel  Brandon,  seeing  the  merchant  drive 
np  to  the  door  just  as  he,  with  Lucy  ar. '  \unt 
Mary,  were  about  to  sit  down  to  dinn>  .vent 
himself  to  the  door,  and,  with  the  frank  ao'spital- 
Ity  of  his  nature,  invited  him  and  his  daughter 
to  siiare  their  family  meal.  This -invitation  was 
no  smal.  gralitication  to  the  pride  of  David  Muir, 
who  had  on  former  visits  to  Mooshanne  regaled 
himself  with  Monsieur  Perrot  in  the  pantry. 
The  boxes  and  parcels  having  been  safely  de- 
posited, and  the  chaise  sent  round  to  the  stable, 
Lucy  aided  Jessie  to  uncloak  and  unbonnet,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  party,  thus  increased,  found 
themselves  assembled  at  the  Colonel's  table. 

"  My  worthy  friend,"  said  the  latter,  address- 
ing his  guest,  "you  seem  to  have  brought  an  un- 
usual variety  ot  packages  to-day ;  I  suppose  the 
greater  part  of  them  are  for  Lucy's  benefit  rath- 
er than  for  mine  1" 

"  Maybe  Jessie  has  brought  a  few  things  fresh 
frae  Philadelphy  for  Miss  Lucy  to  look  at,"  re- 
plied David;  "but  the  maist  part  o'  what  I  hae 
wi'  me  the  day,  came  late  yestreen,  by  Rob 
Mitchell's  batteau  from  St.  Louis.  There's  a 
wheen  letters  and  parcels  frae  Messieurs  Steiner 
and  Roche,  which  will,  nae  doubt,  explain  the 
settlement  o'  the  matter  anent  your  shares  in  the 
fur  trade." 

"  Are  there  not  any  other  letters  from  Saint 
Louis  V  inquired  Lucy,  colouring  slightly. 

"  There's  nane,  my  bonny  young  leddy,"  re- 

i)lied  David,  "excepting  twa,  ane  frae  auld  Mil- 
er,  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  o'  the  last  ten 
barrels  o'  saut  pork  that  I  sent  him,  and  anither 
frae  Reuben  Stiggs,  wha  keeps  the  great  outfit- 
ting store  for  trappers,  to  order  an  early  freight 
o'  blankets.  Bibles,  religious  tracts,  scalp-knives, 
and  whisky,  for  the  Indian  trade." 

In  spite  of  her  disappointment,  Lucy  could  not 
forbear  smiling  at  the  gravity  with  which  the 
merchant  enumerated  this  strange  mixture  of 
goods  ordered  for  a  warehouse,  to  which  the 
missionary  and  the  trapper  both  resorted  for 
iheir  respective  supplies. 
^  The  dinner  passed  agreeably  enough;  and 
Jessie  Muir  having  soon  recovered  from  the  dif- 
fident shyness  by  which  she  had  been  at  first  over- 
come, amused  Lucy  and  Aunt  Mary  by  her  qui- 
et but  shrewd  observations  on  persons  and  things 
in  Marietta,  while  the  merchant  enjoyed,  with 
evident  satisfaction,  several  glasses  from  a  cer- 
tain bottle  of  madeira,  which  he  knew  to  have 
neen  for  some  years  deposited  in  his  own  ware- 
house. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  the  ladies  retired 
to  Lucy's  boudoir,  where  she  examined  the  con- 
tents of  the  packages  which  Jessie  had  brought 
for  her  inspection,  while.  Colonel  Brandon  look- 
ed over  the  letters  and  papers  from  St.  Louis. 
These  proved  to  be  of  considerable  importance, 
as  they  announced  that  all  the  points  in  dispute 
with  the  other  fur  company  had  been  satisfacto- 
rily arranged,  and  that  his  own  shares,  as  well 
as  those  in  which  Ethelston's  property  was  chief- 
ly invested,  had  risen  greatly  in  value.  During 
the  perusal  of  this  correspondence  the  Colonel 
spoke  from  time  to  time  familiarly  and  unre- 
servedly with  his  companion.  He  had  learned 
from  Lucy  the  attachment  that  existed  between 
Henry  Gregson  and  the  merchant's  daughter, 
and  had  formed  an  internal  resolution  to  contrib- 
ate  to  its  successful  issue  by  advancing  to  the 
young  man  a  sum  sufficient  to  enable  him  either 


to  enter  into  partnership  with  the  merchant,  or 
to  commence  business  on  his  own  account;  but 
it  was  not  his  intention  to  develope  this  scheme 
until  he   had  spoken  with  the  elder  Gregso 
wherefore  he  contented  himself  for  the  pres 
with  sounding  the  merchant  in  vague  and  g 
eral  terms  respecting  the  disposal  of  his  daug 
ter's  hand. 

"My  good  friend,"  said  the  Colonel,  "now 
that  we  have  despatched  our  business,  it  occurs 
to  me  that  I  ought  to  remind  you  of  a  circum- 
stance which  may  not  yet  have  entered  your 
thoughts,  namely,  that  your  daughter  Jessie  is 
grown  up  to  be  a  very  pretty,  sensible,  and  dis- 
creet young  woman,  and  that  having  no  son  of 
your  own,  you  ought  to  seek  for  her  a  worthy 
husband,  who  might  hereafter  aid  her  in  com- 
forting the  declining  years  of  Dame  Christie  and 
yourself." 

During  this  address  the  merchant  fidgeted  on 
his  chair,  and  betrayed  other  evident  symptoms 
of  uneasiness ;  but  he  made  no  reply,  and  the 
Colonel  continued:  "  I  think  I  know  of  a  young 
man  who  has  long  entertained  an  attachment  for 
her;  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Miss  Jessie 
would  be  more  likely  to  smile  than  to  frown 
upon  his  suit.  Feeling  myself  not  a  little  inter- 
ested in  his  future  prospects,  I  should,  if  Mrs, 
Muir  and  yourself  approve  the  match,  willingly 
contribute,  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power,  to  their 
comfortable  settlement." 

"  Really,  Colonel  Brandon,  ye're  vera  kind,  I 
can  no'  fin'  words  to  thank  ye,"  stammered  Da- 
vid, who  seemed  to  have  lost  his  self-possession ; 
and  before  he  could  recover  it  so  far  as  to  make 
au}^  distinct  reply,  Lucy  came  into  the  room; 
and  taking  the  Colonel's  arm,  looked  up  affec- 
tionately into  his  face,  saying,  "  Dear  father,  you 
have  given  enough  time  now  to  business;  come 
into  my  room  and  hear  one  of  Jessie's  Scotch 
songs.  I  have  just  been  listening  to  one  which 
was  written,  as  she  tells  me,  by  Robert  Burns; 
it  is  so  simple  and  so  beautiful,  she  has  promised 
to  sing  it  over  again  for  you." 

The  Colonel  smiled,  and  followed  his  daugh- 
ter, saying  to  the  merchant  as  they  left  the  room, 
"  We  will  speak  further  on  that  subject  the  next 
time  that  we  meet." 

As  soon  as  the  little  party  was  assembled  in 
the  boudoir,  Colonel  Brandon  entreated  Jessie 
Muir  to  fulfil  her  promise  of  singing  again  the 
song  which  had  given  so  much  pleasure  to  his 
daughter.  Blushing  slightly,  Jessie  complied, 
and  sung,  in  a  voice  of  much  natural  sweetnes"* 
and  without  accompaniment: 

"  Oh  I  wert  thou  in  the  cauld,  cauld  blast. 

On  yonder  lea,  on  yonder  lea ; 
My  plaidie  to  the  angry  airt,* 

I'd  shelter  thee,  I'd  shelter  thee. 
Or  did  misfortune's  bitter  storms 

Around  thee  blaw,  around  the  blaw ; 
Thy  bieldi  should  be  my  bosom, 

To  share  it  a',  to  share  it  a'. 
"  Or  were  I  in  the  \Tildest  waste, 

Sae  black  an'  bi.re,  sae  black  an'  bare ; 
The  desert  were  a  paradise, 

If  thou  wert  there,  if  thou  wert  there  • 
Or  were  I  monarch  of  the  globe, 

Wi'  thee  to  reign,  wi'  thee  to  reign  , 
The  brightest  jewel  in  my  crown 

Should  be  my  queen,  should  be  my  queen.' 

The  Colonel  having  bestowed  not  undeserved 
praise  upon  the  taste  and  feeling  with  which  Jes- 
sie had  sung  her  simple  melody,  added,  "Yet  ] 
do  not  remember  these  words  among  the  songi 


*  "  Ang^  airt,"  the  quarter  whence  the  angry  wind  wru 
owing  t  SbeltM 


blowing 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


157 


of  the  Ayrshire  b.2rd.  Lucy,  you  have  often 
read  to  me  from  the  volume  of  his  poems  which 
came  from  England;  do  you  recollect  having 
seen  this  song  among  them  1" 

"  Indeed  1  do  not,"  replied  Lucy;  "yet  it  is  so 
full  of  his  peculiar  force  of  expression  and  feel- 
ing, that  it  is  difficult  to  believe  it  to  have  been 
written  by  any  one  else." 

"  I  have  been  told,"  said  Jessie,  "  that  this  song 
was  found  among  his  papers  after  his  death. 
This  may  be  the  reason  why  you  have  not  seen 
it  in  your  volume." 

The  conversation  having  once  turned  upon  the 
subject  of  the  writings  of  Ayrshire's  immortal 
bard,  whose  fame  was  then  spreading  far  and 
wide  over  the  habitable  globe,  it  dwelt  for  some 
time  upon  the  attractive  theme;  and  the  tall 
'.  pines  were  already  beginning  to  cast  their  length- 

ened shadows  over  the  lawn,  ere  the  merchant 
remembered  that  Dame  Christie  might  be 
"wearyin'"  for  his  return,  and  perhaps  scold 
him  for  exposing  himself  and  his  daughter  to  the 
perils  of  the  Mooshanne  stump-studded  track  in 
tfte  dusk  of  evening.  The  chaise  having  been 
ordered  to  the  floor,  David  Muir  put  on  his  hat 
.  and  cloak,  while  Jessie  donned  her  bonnet  and 
shawl;  and  a  few  minutes  saw  them  jogging 
steadily  away  on  their  return  to  Marietta. 
I  For  some  time  neither  broke  the  silence  of 
'.he  deep  forest  through  which  they  were  driving, 
for  each  had  their  own  subject  for  meditation. 
Jessie,  whose  spirit  was  softened  by  the  songs 
of  her  father-land,  and  had  been  touched  by  the 
gentle  kindness  of  Lucy's  manner  towards  her, 
looked  steadily  towards  the  west ;  and  while  she 
thought  that  she  was  admiring  the  gigantic  hem- 
lock pines,  whose  huge  limbs  now  came  out  in 
bold  relief  from  the  ruddy  saffron  sky  beyond, 
her  musings  blended  in  sweet  but  vague  confu- 
sion the  banks  of  Allan,  Doon,  and  Ayr.  with 
those  of  the  river  beside  her,  and  pictured  the 
"Jamies,"  "Willies,"  and  other  "braw,  braw 
.ads"  of  Scottish  minstrelsy,  in  the  form  of  no 
less  a  personage  than  Harry  Gregson. 

She  was  roused  from  her  reverie  by  the  voice 
of  her  father,  whose  meditations  had  taken  quite 
a  different  direction,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  con- 
versation that  ensued  between  tJiem. 

"Jessie,  it's  a  gae  bonnie  house,  yon  Moo- 
shanne, an'  the  mailen's*  the  best  in  th'  haill 
Territory." 

"  Indeed,  father,  it  is  a  very  pretty  house,  and 
most  kind  are  those  who  live  in  it." 

"  Wad  ye  no'  like  to  live  in  it  yoursel,  Jessie  1" 

"  To  say  truth,  father,  I  would  rather  live  in  a 
smaller  house  that  I  might  call  my  own." 

"  But  suppose  ye  might  ca'  yon  fine  house 
your  own,  what  wad  ye  say  then,  lassie  1"    This 
Inquiry  was  enforced  with  a  significant  poke 
from  the  merchant's  elbow. 
I  Jessie  looked  up  in  her  fatjier's  face,  and  see- 

ing that  it  was  unusually  grave,  she  replied, 
"  Father,  I  do  not  understand  what  you  are  aim- 
ing at.  I  am  very  happy  in  our  house  at  Mari-. 
etta,  and  wish  for  none  better." 
;  "  Ye're  a  fule,"  said  the  merchant,  angrily. 
"  I  tell  ye,  Jessie,  ye're  no  better  than  a  fule  ; 
and  when  fortun'  hands  oot  her  han'  to  ye,  ye'll 
no'  gang  half-way  to  tak'  it.  Hae  ye  no'  seen 
how  oft  Maister  Reginald  comes  to  our  store, 
and  hangs  aboot  it  like  a  tod  round  a  hen-roost  *!" 

"  Indeed,  father,  I  have  made  no  such  remark ; 
and  if  Master  Reginald  did  often  come  to  our 


'  FEUia-buildings. 


store,  it  was  for  powder,  or  a  knife,  or  somf 
trifles  for  Miss  Lucy,  and  not  lor  any  othei 
cause." 

"  Hoot  awa'  wi'  your  pouther  and  knives,  ys 
blind  hizzie,"  said  the  merchant ;  "  it  was  to  see 
and  speak  wi'  yoursel',  and  no'  for  any  othei 
cause." 

"  Father,  I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken  ;  Master 
Reginald  would  never  so  far  forget  the  difference 
in  our  rank  and  condition,  and  I  should  be  ?>"> 
sorry  if  he  did." 

"  What  do  ye  mean,  lass,  about'difference  o' 
rank  and  condeetion  "i  Are  the  Muirs  no'  as 
weel-born  as  ony  lord  or  duke  in  the  auld  kin- 
tra  1  Do  ye  no'  ken  that  my  mother's  father's 
sister  was  married  to  Muir  of  Drumliwhappit, 
an'  that  he  was  near  cousin  to  the  Laird  o'  Bla- 
gowrie,  wha  married  the  sister  o'  the  Earl  o' 
Glencaim  ■?  Rank  and  condeetion,  indeed  I  as 
I  tauld  ye  just  now,  ye're  neither  mair  nor  less 
than  a  fule,  Jessie.  Why,  the  Colonel  spak' 
wi'  me  anent  the  matter  this  vera  day,  an'  said 
that  he'd  do  what  lay  in  his  power  to  mak'  a 
smooth  an'  comfortable." 

Jessie  Muir  was  now,  indeed,  surprised ;  for 
s]ie  had  hitherto  imagined  that  the  idea  of  Regi- 
nald Brandon  having  taken  a  fancy  to  her,  was 
one  of  those  crotchets  which  the  merchant  some- 
times took  up,  and  which  he  would  then  main- 
tain with  all  the  pertinacious  obstinacy  of  his 
character;  but  she  knew  him  to  be  incapable  ot 
a  direct  untruth,  and  was,  therefore,  overwhelm- 
ed with  astonishment  at  the  communication  last 
made  to  her. 

We  should  not  faithfully  portray  Jessie's 
character  were  we  to  say  that  she  experienced 
no  secret  gratification,  when  she  learned  that  her 
hand  was  sought  by  one  possessed  of  so  many 
advantages  of  person  and  fortune  ;  but  we  should 
do  her  injustice  were  we  not  to  add,  that  the  sen- 
sation endured  only  for  a  moment ;  and  then  her 
heart  reverting  to  Henry  Gregson,  she  thought 
only  of  the  increased  obstacles  which  would 
now  interfere  with  their  attachment,  and  she 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Dinna  greet,  lassie,  dinna  greet,"*  said  the 
merchant,  surprised  and  somewhat  softened  by 
this  unexpected  emotion,  and  he  muttered  to 
himself,  "  There's  no  kenning  the  twists  and 
krankums  o'  a  woman's  mind!  I  tell  her  that 
she's  courted  by  a  weel-faured  young  man,  wi' 
the  best  prospects  in  the  haill  Territory,  and  she 
taks  on  to  greet  like  a  skelpit  ivean."f 

After  various  ineffectual  attempts  to  draw 
from  her  any  explanation  of  the  cause  of  her 
grief,  he  ceased  to  interrogate  her,  wisely  re- 
solving to  consult  Dame  Christie  on  the  subject, 
and  they  drove  on  in  silence  until  they  reached 
their  home  in  Marietta. 

As  they  entered  the  house  they  were  met  by 
Harry  Gregson,  who  led  the  way  into  the  par- 
lour, where  he  placed  in  the  merchant's  hand  a 
paper  which  had  arrived  during  his  absence, 
and  which  proved  to  be  an  extensive  order  foi 
articles  to  be  shipped  for  St.  Louis  on  the  follow- 
ing day. 

While  David  Muir  ran  his  eye  over  the  list, 
calculating  the  amount  of  profit  which  he  might 
expect  to  realize  from  the  whole,  young  Greg- 
son, observing  the  tears  not  yet  dry  upon  Jes- 
sie's cheek,  cast  upon  her  a  look  of  anxious  af- 
fectionate inquiry,  which  seemed  only  to  increase 
her  confusion  and  distress. 


Cry  or  weep. 


t  Whipped  child 


158 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  Fatner,  I  am  tired,"  she  whispered,  ia  a  sub- 
dued voice,  "  and  will  go  to  my  room  to  rest." 
Having  received  his  embrace,  she  turned  towards 
the  door,  where  Gregson  presented  to  her  a  candle 
that  he  had  lighted  for  her,  and  in  so  doing  he  took 
her  hand  and  pressed  it;  she  withdrew  it  gently, 
and,  in  reply  to  his  "  Good  night.  Miss  Jessie," 
gave  him  in  silence  a  parting  look  so  lull  of 
mingled  tenderness  and  grief,  that  his  anxiety  was 
no  longer  to  be  controlled,  and  he  resolved  to 
draw  from  the  merchant  some  explanation  of  her 
agitation.  Seeing  that  he  had  at  length  finished 
his  careful  perusal  of  the  paper,  he  said,  "  I  think, 
sir,  that  Miss  Jessie  looks  very  unwell  this  even- 
ing; has  anything  happened  to  hurt  or  alarm 
herl" 

"  Naething,  naething,  my  gude  lad,  only  I  tauld 
her  some  news  that  ought  to  have  made  her  blithe 
as  a  lavroch,*  and  she  thought  fit  to  wet  her  een 
wi'  doolt  anent  it." 

"  That  is  strange,  indeed,"  replied  the  young 
man;  and  he  added,  in  a  hesitating  tone,  "I 
hope,  sir,  you  will  not  think  me  impertinent,  as 
I  take  so  much  interest  in  all  that  concerns  your 
family,  if  I  inquire  what  was  the  nature. of  the 
good  news  that  you  communicated  to  Miss  Jes- 
sie V 

"  Why,  Hairy,"  replied  the  merchant,  sinking 
his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  "  as  ye're  a 
discreet  cannie  lad,  that'll  no  crackl  about  they 
things  all  ower  the  toon,  I  may  just  tell  ye  that 
Jessie — " 

"  David !  David  !"  screamed  a  shrill  voice  from 
the  room  above,  "are  ye  gaun  to  haver§  there 
the  l.ee-lang  night  V 

"  Comin'  this  moment,  Christie,"  said  the  obe- 
dient husband,  leaving  the  room  as  he  spoke, 
with  the  air  and  countenance  of  one  so  thorough- 
.y  hen-pecked,  that  Harry  Gregson,  in  spite  of 
his  anxiety,  laughed  outright ;  saying  to  him- 
Bclf,  as  many  a  lover  has  said  before  and  since, 
"How  unlike  is  Jessie's  voice  to  that  of  her 
mother!" 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Cesha  pursues  his  Career  as  a  Diplomatist. — An  agreeable 
T6te-d-T6te  disagreeably  interrupted. — The  Steps  that 
Mahfega  took  to  support  his  declining  Interests  among  the 
Crows. 

We  left  Besha  engaged  in  an  attempt  to  lib- 
erate the  bride  of  the  young  Crow  chief,  by  pro- 
posing to  Reginald  and  his  party  an  exchange 
of  prisoners. 

On  arriving  at  the  camp  he  was  allowed  to 
pass  by  the  sentries,  and  took  his  way  up  the  hill 
to  the  tent  of  Prairie-bird.  As  soon  as  the  ob- 
ject of  his  errand  be-:amc  known  a  council  was 
held,  consisting  of  Ueginald  Brandon,  War-Ea- 
gle, Baptiste,  Pierre,  and  Wingenund,  and,  hav- 
ing heard  the  proposal  made  on  the  part  of  the 
Crows,  they  proceeded  to  deliberate  on  the  course 
to  be  pursued. 

They  could  have  no  hesitation  in  agreeing  to 
an  exchange  of  prisoners,  could  that  be  effected 
upon  equal  terms,  but  the  Crows  insisted  upon 
the  return  of  Bending-willow  as  a  preliminary 
step  towards  the  release  of  their  prisoners,  and 
to  this  Baptiste  and  Pierre  were  most  strongly 
opposed,  especially  the  latter,  who  had  experi- 
enced on  more  than  one  occasion  the  proverbial 
treachery  of  the  Upsaroka  tribe. 


*Lark. 
t  Gosnp. 


t  Sorrow. 
I)  Chatter 


Reginald  was  disposed,  with  the  fearless  g«n 
erosity  of  his  nature,  to  be  satisfied  with  binding 
them  by  the  most  solemn  obligations,  recognised 
hy  their  customs,  to  release  their  prisoners  on 
the  safe  return  of  Bending-willow,  but  his  opin- 
ion vas  overruled  by  his  companions;  arid  the 
horse-dealer's  mission  wore  a  most  unpromiiiing 
aspect,  when  he  bethought  him  of  delivering  the 
note  written  by  Paul  Miiller  to  Reginald. 

The  perusal  of  this  effected  an  immediate  .al- 
teration in  the  sentiments  of  the  council,  and  Ihe 
restoration  of  the  captive  bride  was  decided  up'.m. 
She  was  seated  in  the  outer  compartment  of  Prai- 
rie-bird's tent  when  Besha  entered,  accompanied 
by  Reginald,  to  inform  her  of  her  liberation. 

Pierre,  who  was  still  suspicious  of  some 
treachery,  and  who  had  some  knowledge  of  the 
Crow  language,  placed  his  ear  at  the  corner  of 
the  aperture  with  the  intention  of  discovering 
any  under-plot  that  might  be  going  forward. 

Besha,  however,  was  too  craffy  to  be  caught 
in  such  a  trap,  or  else  he  did  not  intend  to  make 
Bending-willow  the  confident  of  his  real  inten- 
tions, so  he  simply  announced  ^to  her  that  she 
was  free  to  return  to  her  husband's  lodge,  and 
that  the  white  prisoners  were  to  be  restored  in 
exchange  for  her. 

Shaking  off  the  sadness  by  which  she  had  been 
of  late  overcome,  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  grateful  joy,  she  pressed  her 
hand  upon  Reginald's  breast,  then  looking  round, 
she  pronounced  distinctly  the  name  of"  Olitipa." 

On  hearing  herself  tl^us  called,  Prairie-bird 
came  forth  from  her  inner  tent,  and  having  learn- 
ed the  intelligence  that,  by  the  restoration  of  her 
new  friend,  the  liberation  of  Paul  Miiller  was  to 
be  effected,  she  embraced  the  former  and  pre- 
sented her  with  a  necklace  of  coral.  Bending- 
willow  returned  the  embrace  with  affectionate 
earnestness,  and  was  then  led  by  Besha  from 
the  tent. 

As  they  passed  towards  the  stockade,  Pierre, 
whose  suspicions  were  not  yet  entirely  lulled, 
and  who  felt  a  deep  interest  in  the  safety  of  Ethel- 
ston,  came  up  to  the  horse-dealer,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "  If  the  tongues  of  the  Crows,  or  of 
Besha,  are  forked,  if  the  white  prisoners  aie  de- 
tained or  injured,  many  widows  shall  howl  in 
the  camp,  and  the  tongues  of  the  wolves  shall  be 
red  with  Upsaroka  blood  1" 

The  Prairie-Guide  spoke  these  words  in  a  tone 
of  deep  meaning,  and  Besha  knew  that  he  was 
not  a  man  likely  to  utter  an  idle  or  empty  threat ; 
he  answered  accordingly,  "  If  Besha  lives,  the 
prisoners  shall  return  unhurt  before  the  next 
sunset,"  and  so  saying  pursued  his  unmolested 
way  to  the  Crow  camp. 

While  they  were  crossing  the  valley  which 
separated  the  two  encampments,  Reginald,  War- 
Eagle,  and  Baptiste  still  lingered  near  the  door 
of  the  tent,  discussing  the  events  of  the  day,  and 
expressing  their  respective  opinions  as  to  tne 
probable  conduct  of  the  Crows. 

"  What  says  Prairie-bird  V  inquired  Reginald, 
addressing  the  maiden,  who  had  been  a  not  un- 
interested auditor  of  the  discussion. 

"  Has  not  the  Crow  chief,"  she  replied,  "  giv- 
en a  faithful  promise  that  on  the  return  of  thtt 
bride  he  would  restore  my  father  and  his  friend 
unhurt  1" 

"  He  has." 

"  What  then  is  the  doubt  1" 

"The  doubt  is,  whether  the  word  of  the  Crow 
can  be  believed'?  whether  he  may  not  still  df- 
tain,  or  injure  his  prisoners  1" 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


159 


Prairie-bird  mused  for  a  few  seconds,  as  if 
detating  within  herself  the  possibility  of  such 
falsehood  ;  then  raising  her  head,  she  said  in  a 
tone  of  emphasis,  "  Fear  not :  my  father  and 
your  friend  will  return  te  us  uninjured." 

"  I  accept  the  omen,  sweet  prophetess !"  ex- 
claimed Reginald,  cheerfully ;  "  and  will  believe 
that  their  thoughts  are  honest  and  straightfor- 
ward as  you  deem  them,  unless  their  conduct 
should  prove  the  contrary;  in  that  event,"  he 
added,  turning  to  War-Eagle,  "  my  Indian  broth- 
er and  I  will  see  what  our  own  heads  and  hands 
can  do  to  set  free  our  friends." 

The  chief  replied  not ;  but  the  sarcastic  smile 
that  played  over  his  dark  features,  showed  how 
tittle  he  shared  in  Prairie-bird's  opinion  of  Up- 
-.saroka  faith. 

Meanwhile,  Bending-willow  returned  in  safe- 
ty to  her  lodge,  where  Besha  presented  her,  with 
an  air  of  triumph,  to  her  impatient  lord.  The 
other  wives  and  women  retired  while  she  related 
to  him  her  adventures,  and  from  the  mingled 
laughter  and  caresses  with  which  he  listened  to 
her  narrative,  it  is  probable  that  she  confessed 
to  him  the  motive  that  had  induced  her  to  seek 
the  Medicine  of  the  white  tent- 
As  soon  as  she  concluded,  he  desired  one  of 
his  young  men  to  lead  before  the  lodge  a  favour- 
ite horse,  swift,  high-couraged,  and  strong,  from 
the  back  of  which  he  had  killed,  with  lance  and 
bow,  many  a  bison  cow.  Placing  the  bridle  of 
raw  hide  in  the  hands  of  the  horse-dealer,  he  said, 
"Besha  has  brought  back  the  Sweet-scented- 
willow  to  its  bed,  he  shall  not  go  away  with 
empty  hands.  When  he  rides  through  the  vil- 
lage the  warriors  shall  say  that  his  horse  is  fit 
to  carry  a  chief;  and  if  any  speak  to  him  bad 
words,  let  him  tell  them  to  beware,  for  White 
Bull  calls  him  brother!" 

So  saying,  the  young  savage,  who  had  now 
completely  recovered  his  good  humour,  half-lift- 
ed, half-threw  the  astonished  dealer  upon  the 
horse's  hack,  and  turned  again  into  the  lodge  to 
renew  his  caresses  to  his  recovered  bride. 

"All  goes  well!"  thought  Besha  within  him- 
self, as  he  rode  towards  his  own  quarters,  pro- 
ving with  professional  skill,  the  paces  and  quali- 
ties of  his  new  steed.  "  All  goes  well !  and  this 
animal  will  fetch  me  two  hundred  dollars  in  the 
lower  Arkansas  country ;  few  such  are  to  be 
found  there.  I  wonder  where  this  Crow  thief 
found  or  stole  itl  If  I  can  manage  with  fine 
words  to  get  a  few  more  skins  from  this  tribe, 
and  a  few  more  presents  from  the  white  men,  I 
will  Join  the  summer  return-train  from  the  Black 
Hills,  and  make  my  way  back  towards  the 
east." 

Indd.ging  in  these  honest  and  disinterested 
meditations,  the  horse-dealer  arrived  before  his 
own  lodge,  where  his  Indian  wife  awaited  his 
coming  with  a  savoury  mess  of  bison-meat  and 
marrow;  after  despatching  which  he  smoked  his 
pipe,  without  permitting  any  reflections  concern- 
ing the  prisoners  whose  cause  he  had  so  shame- 
Jessly  betrayed,  to  disturb  his  appetite,  or  his 
present  .azy  enjoyment. 

It  was  fortunate  for  th:m  that  they  had  an  ad- 
vocate more  honest  and  zealous  in  a  quarter 
where  they  least  suspected  it.  This  was  Bend- 
ing-willow ;  who,  after  showing  to  her  lover-hus- 
band the  coral  necklace  given  to  her  by  Prairie- 
bird,  and  repeating  to  him  the  kind  treatment 
that  she  had  experienced  in  the  tent,  entreated 
him  to  use  his  influence  for  the  restoration  of  the 
prisoners. 


This  she  was  not  able  to  effect,  as  he  stated 
that  they  belonged  to  the  great  council,  who 
would  decide  upon  their  fate,  after  consulting 
the  Medicine ;  but  she  obtained  from  him  a  prom- 
ise that  he  would  in  the  meantime  protect  them 
from  all  chance  injury,  as  well  as  from  the  vio- 
lence of  any  personal  enemy  who  might  beat 
them  ill-will. 

The  deliberations  of  the  Indian  tribes  are,  in 
fact,  carried  on  in  a  manner  more  strongly  re- 
sembling those  of  civilised  nations  than  is  usu- 
ally believed;  that  is,  a  few  leading  men  meet 
together,  and  arrange  the  plan  of  operations  to  be 
pursued,  after  which  they  convoke  the  grand 
council  by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called,  and 
insensibly  lead  its  members  to  propose,  second, 
and  carry  the  measures  previously  agreed  upon. 
Thus  it  was  with  the  Crows  upon  the  present 
occasion.  The  old  chief  of  the  band,  as  soon  as 
he  learned  the  safe  return  of  Bending-willow,  sent 
for  his  son  the  White-Bull,  whose  rank  as  lead- 
er of  the  braves  entitled  him  to  be  present  at  a 
secret  council ;  two  other  warriors,  of  mort  ad- 
vanced age  and  experience,  were  also  admitted ; 
and  these  four  being  assembled,  they  entered 
upon  their  deliberations  with  a  freedom  of  thought 
and  speech  such  as  could  not  have  been  consist- 
ent v/ith  the  forms  and  usages  of  a  public  meet- 
ing. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  relate  in  order  the  vari- 
ous arguments  that  were  adduced  by  the  several 
speakers  in  turn;  sufiice  it  to  say,  that  the  father 
of  White-Bull,  independent  of  his  claim  to  au- 
thority as  chief,  happened  to  be  the  oldest  man 
and  the  greatest  rogue  present;  all  which  concur- 
rent advantages  gave  a  preponderating  influence 
to  his  advice.  The  result  was,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  its  adoption  by  the  unanimous  con- 
sent of  his  three  companions ;  and,  as  the  after- 
movements  of  the  band  were  regulated  by  it,  a 
briefsketchof  its  purport  and  objects  will  not  be 
misplaced. 

His  counsel,  stripped  of  Indian  imagery  and 
ornament,  was,  that  they  should  for  the  present 
detain  the  prisoners;  and  in  order  to  avoid  the 
consequences  of  the  violent  ebullition  of  resent- 
ment which  might  be  expected  on  the  part  of  the 
White  Men  and  Delawares,  that  they  should  in- 
stantly decamp,  and  marching  towards  the  south 
and  west  by  the  most  intricate  and  difficult  pass- 
es, make  their  way  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
district  where  Mah^ga  informed  them  that  he 
had  concealed  his  goods  and  stores.  These  it 
was  their  intention,  of  course,  to  appropriate,  and 
afterwards  to  deal  with  their  dangerous  and 
haughty  possessor  as  might  be  found  most  expe- 
dient. Meanwhile  it  was  certain  that  the  allied 
band  would  follow  their  trail  for  the  recovery  oi 
the  prisoners,  and  if  they  did  so,  with  their  bag- 
gage and  Prairie-bird's  tent,  the  Crows  had  lit- 
tle fear  of  being  overtaken,  excepting  when  they 
chose  to  halt  for  the  purpose  ;  if,  on  the  contrary, 
the  allied  band  should  divide,  the  chief  knew 
that  from  the  intimate  acquaintance  of  his  war- 
riors v/ith  the  localities,  they  would  easily  find 
means  to  attack  and  overcome  the  weaken- 
ed party  left  in  charge  of  the  tent,  and  its  won- 
derful mistress. 

This  outline  of  operations  being  settled,  it  was 
further  agreed  that  the  prisoners  should  be  en- 
trusted to  the  care  of  White-Bull,  who  made 
himself  responsible  for  their  security,  and  who 
was  to  lead  the  van  of  the  retreat,  while  Besha 
was  summoned,  and  ordered  to  explain  to  th« 
Osage  chief  the  proposed  plan  of  operations,  ant 


160 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


that  to  him  was  to  be  assigned  the  honourable 
post  of  defending  the  rear  of  the  march. 

In  consequence  of  all  these  preliminary  ar- 
rangements, a  formal  council  was  summoned, 
at  wliich  they  were  proposed  and  agreed  upon, 
with  the  sanction  of  the  Medicine,  and  a  treaty 
was  entered  into  with  Mahega,  by  which  he 
bound  himself  witli  his  companions  to  fight  faith- 
fully for  the  Crows,  and  to  make  over  to  them 
one  half  of  his  goods  concealed  in  the  c  che,  on 
condition  that  tliey  should  do  everything  in  their 
power  to  recover  for  him  the  Great  Medicine 
of  the  tent,  and  his  baggage  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  Delawares. 

These  arrangements  and  agreements  were  no 
sooner  completed  than  they  were  carried  into  ex- 
ecution with  a  speed,  order,  and  noiseless  silence 
peculiar  to  these  roving  tribes,  whose  fate  is  so 
often  dependent  upon  the  secrecy  and  celerity  of 
their  movements. 

While  these  things  were  going  forward  in  the 
Crow  camp,  Reginald  sat  by  the  side  of  Prairie- 
bird  under  the  small  cedar-tree  in  front  of  her  tent. 
Being  still  somewhat  stiff  from  the  wounds  and 
bruises  received  in  the  late  attack,  he  gladly  avail- 
ed himself  of  that  pretext  for  enjoying  a  few  hours 
of  repose  in  the  society  of  his  beloved,  while  he 
left  the  chief  care  of  the  defence  of  the  camp  to 
Baptiste  and  War-Eagle. 

His  eye  wandered  occasionally  across  the  val- 
ley below,  and  scanned  with  an  anxious  look  the 
opposite  hill  upon  which  the  dusky  figures  of  the 
Crows  were  seen  moving  to  and  Iro  between  the 
lodges  and  buslies,  until  it  returned  to  rest  upon 
the  lovely  countenance  of  his  companion.  That 
countenance,  which  was  now  lighted  up  by  the 
parting  rays  of  the  declining  sun,  beamed  with 
emotions  too  deep  for  utterance. 

Her  love  for  Reginald  was  not  like  the  love  so 
often  found  in  the  artificial  world  of  society,  a 
mere  preference,  engendered,  perhaps,  by  fancy, 
and  nurtured  by  habit,  accident,  or  mere  conge- 
niality of  tastes,  but  a  single  absorbing  passion, 
the  intensity  of  which  she  trembled  to  acknowl- 
edge even  to  herself.  All  the  poetry,  the  enthusi- 
asm, the  yearnings  of  womanly  feeling  in  her  na- 
ture were  gathered  into  a  focus,  and  nothing  but 
her  strong  and  abiding  sense  of  religion  prevent- 
ed that  love  from  being  idolatry. 

As  her  eye  fell  upon  the  recent  scar  upon  his 
forehead,  and  the  sling  in  which  his  left  arm  was 
enveloped,  she  remembered  that  twice  already 
had  his  blood  been  shed  in  her  defence,  twice 
had  her  life  been  saved  at  the  risk  of  his  own. 
Tears  of  delicious  gratitude,  tears  sweeter  than 
any  smiles  that  ever  dimpled  the  cheek  of  joy 
began  to  flow,  and  half  averting  her  face  from 
her  lover,  she  turned  it  thoughtfully  towards  the 
western  horizon. 

The  orb  of  the  sun  had  just  disappeared  be- 
nind  the  rugged  and  far-distant  mountain  range, 
whose  towering  and  snow-clad  peaks  stood  out 
in  clear  relief  from  the  deep  masses  of  cloud 
whose  wavy  edges  still  reflected  his  golden  light. 
A  mellowed  haze  wrapped  as  in  a  saffron  man- 
tle the  nearer  hills,  whose  irregular  forms,  some 
rocky  and  precipitous,  others  undulating  and 
covered  with  dense  forests  of  pine  and  cedar, 
formed  the  foreground  of  the  magnificent  even- 
ing landscape.  A  single  star  glimmered  palely 
in  the  twilight  heaven,  a  forerunner  of  the  thou- 
sand glorious  lights  about  to  emerge  from  its 
unfathomed  vault.  To  look  up  from  nature  to 
nature's  God  was  the  habitual  process  of  Prai- 
rie-bird's mind,  a  habit  resulting  partly  from  the 


fatherly  instructions  of  the  Missionary,  but 
chiefly  from  her  constant  study  of  the  Scripture 
amid  scenes  calculated  to  impress  its  lessons 
most  deeply  upon  her. 

Such  a  scene  was  that  now  before  her,  and  as 
the  deepening  shadowt'fell  upon  mountain,  for- 
est, and  vale,  a  holier  <  aim  stole  over  the  cur- 
rent  of  her  thoughts,  and  imparted  to  her  eloquent 
features  an  expression  in  which  the  sweet  con- 
sciousness of  reciprocated  earthly  affection  was 
blended  with  adoring  gratitude  to  Him  whose 
everlasting  name  is  Love. 

The  earnest  and  affectionate  gaze  of  Reginald 
was  still  riveted  upon  her  countenance,  when  a 
gentle  sigh  fell  upon  his  watchful  ear.  Taking 
her  hand  within  his  own,  he  whispered  "  Is 
Prairie-bird  sad  1 — Does  any  sorrow  disturb  her 
peace  1" 

Dropping  to  the  earth  those  humid  eyes  so 
late  upraised  to  heaven,  she  replied,  in  a  hesi- 
tating voice,  "  Not  sad,  dear  Reginald,  but  .  .  . 
afraid." 

"  Afraid  !  dearest ;  and  of  what  1  Nay,  blush 
not,  but  tell  me  your  cause  of  fear." 

"  Afraid  of  too  much  happiness,  of  too  much 
love.  I  tremble,  and  doubt  whether  my  thoughts 
are  such  as  God  approves." 

''  Be  not  rash  nor  unjust  in  self-condemnation," 
said  Reginald,  in  a  chiding  tone,  while  secretly 
delighted  by  a  confession  which  his  heart  inter- 
preted aright ;  "  think  you  that  the  Creator  v/ho 
implanted  these  affections  within  us,  and  who 
has  pronounced  repeated  sanctions  and  blessings 
upon  the  bond  of  wedded  love,  think  you,  dear- 
est, that  He  can  be  offended  at  your  love  for  one 
to  whom  you  have  plighted  your  troth,  and  who, 
albeit  in  many  respects  unworthy  of  such  a 
treasure,  has  at  least  the  merit  of  repaying  it  a 
hundredfold !" 

"Unworthy!"  repeated  Prairie-bird,  in  a  tone 
of  reproachful  tenderness, — other  words  trembled 
upon  her  lips,  but  the  instinct  of  maidenly  reserve 
checked  their  utterance,  and  she  was  silent. 

"Nay,  if  you  like  not  the  word,  it  shall  b3 
unsaid,"  whispered  Reginald,  gently  pressing  the 
hand  which  he  held  within  his  own ;  "  and  my 
whole  future  life  shall  be  a  constant  endeavour 
to  make  it  untrue.  Let  me,  however,  guess  at 
the  secret  cause  of  your  fear,  and  of  the  sigh 
that  escaped  you, — you  were  thinking  of  youi 
dear  fatherly  instructor,  and  were  afraid  that  ha 
would  not  return  V 

"  Indeed  my  thoughts  were  not  of  him  at  the 
moment,"  she  replied,  with  earnest  simplicity; 
"nor  am  I  afraid  on  his  account." 

"  Why  is  he  not  yet  in  the  hands  of  an  enemy 
whose  cruelty  and  treachery  are  proverbial  1 
What  if  the  Crow  chief  should,  in  spite  of  his 
solemn  promise,  refuse  to  give  up  his  prisoners  1" 

"  It  cannot  be,"  she  replied  gravely ;  "  God  wil. 
not  permit  such  falsehood." 

"You  speak,"  said  Reginald,  "like  one  who 
has  studied  chiefly  your  own  heart,  and  the  pre- 
cious book  now  lying  at  your  side;  but  eveai 
there  you  may  have  read  that  the  Almighty 
sometimes  permits  falsehood  and  wickedness  to 
triumph  upon  earth." 

"It  is  too  true,"  replied  Prairie-bird;  "yet  I 
feel  a  strong  assurance  that  our  friends  will  re- 
turn to  us  in  safety.  I  cannot  tell  whence  it 
comes— whether  from  a  dream  sent  in  the 
watches  of  the  night,  or  the  secret  whispers  of 
some  mysterious  and  unseen  counsellor,  but  it 
brings  hope,  rest,  and  comfort  to  my  heart." 

"God  forbid,"  said  Reginald,  passionatelv, 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


161 


"  that  I  should  say  anything  likely  to  banish  such 
sweet  guests  from  so  sweet  a  home.  But  if  the 
Crow  chief  should  be  guilty  of  this  treacherous 
act  of  falsehood,  I  will  endeavour  to  inflict  upon 
him  a  vengeance  so  signal,  as  shall  deter  him 
and  his  tribe  from  any  future  repetition  of  the 
crime." 

"  Jt  is  lawful,"  replied  the  maiden,  "  to  recover 
our  friends  by  force  or  device,  if  they  are  detain- 
ed by  treachery;  but  remember,  dear  Reginald, 
that  vengeance  belongs  not  to  our  erring  and 
fallen  race ;  if  the  Upsaroka  should  sin  as  you 
expect,  defeat,  if  you  can,  his  evil  schemes,  but 
eave  his  punishment  to  the  Great  Avenger,  who 
can  make  his  latter  days  loathsome  as  those  of 
Gehazi,  or  his  ^leath  sudden  and  fearful  as  that 
of  Ananias  and  his  guilty  spouse." 

Reginald  coloured  deeply,  for  his  conscience 
reminded  him  that  on  a  tete  occasion  he  had 
used,  in  a  discussion  with  War-Eagle,  the  same 
argument  as  that  now  applied  with  so  much 
force  to  himself,  and  he  feJt  ashamed  of  having 
forgotten,  in  the  excitement  of  his  own  passions, 
a  truth  which  he  had  laboured  strongly  to  im- 
press upon  another. 

"  Thanks,  dearest  monitress,"  he  replied,  "  for 
recalling  me  to  my  better  self;  would  that  you 
were  always  by  my  side  to  control  my  impa- 
tience and  reprove  the  hastiness  of  my  temper. 
Nay,  I  trust  ere  long  that  you  will  be  always  at 
my  side;  your  father  and  instructor  will  return, 
and  will  unite  us  in  those  holy  bands  not  to  be 
severed  by  man.  You  will  then  leave  the  prai- 
rie and  the  tent,  and  come  with  me  to  a  home 
where  a  second  father  and  a  loving  sister  claim 
a  share  in  your  affection." 

"  It  shall  be  so,"  replied  Prairie-bird  in  a  low 
and  earnest  voice ;  "  read  my  answer  in  the  lan- 
guage of  one  who,  like  myself,  was  humble  and 
friendless,  but  who,  trusting  in  her  God,  found  in 
a  strange  land  a  husband  and  home." 

"Na)',  read  it  to  me,"  said  Reginald,  antici- 
pating her  selection;  "however  beautiful  the 
words  may  be,  your  voice  will  make  them  fall 
more  sweetly  on  my  ear." 

Prairie-bird  opened  the  book,  but  she  looked 
not  on  the  page,  for  the  words  were  treasured  in 
her  heart ;  and  she  repeated  in  a  voice  faltering 
from  deep  emotion,  "  Whither  thou  goest  I  will 
go,  and  where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge ;  thy 
people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God. 
Where  thou  diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  be 
buried;  the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if 
aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me." 

As  she  concluded  these  words,  she  looked  up 
to  the  face  of  her  betrothed  with  eyes  beaming 
with  truth  and  affection.  The  strong  man  was 
overcome;  he  could  only  utter  a  deep  Amen. 
The  consciousness  that  the  trustful,  guileless  be- 
ing now  at  his  side  had  surrendered  to  his  keep- 
ing the  ark  of  her  earthly  happiness,  mingled  an 
awful  responsibility  with  the  more  tender  feel- 
ings that  possessed  his  inmost  soul ;  he  l"elt  what 
has  been  so  truly  described  by  a  poet  out  of 
fashion  and  out  of  dale, — that 

"  The  treasures  of  the  deep  are  not  so  precious 
As  are  the  concealed  comforts  of  a  man 
Locked  up  in  woman's  love." 

Then  did  he  record  a  secret  and  solemn  vow 
that  he  would  guard  his  precious  treasure  with 
a  miser's  care;  the  stars  began  more  brightly  to 
twinkle  in  the  sky,  the  watch-fires  emitted 
through  the  deepening  gloom  a  clearer  ray ;  and 
as  the  head  of  Prairie-bird  lightly  rested  upon 
her  lover's  shoulder,  they  gave  themselves  up 


to  the  delicious  reveries  suggested  by  the  hour, 

the  scene,  and  hearts  overcharged  with  bliss. 

The  happy  pair  were  suddenly  aroused  from 
their  waking  dream  by  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle, 
the  flash  of  which  Reginald  distinctly  saw 
•through  the  bushes  on  the  side  of  the  hill  below 
them;  a  bullet  whizzed  close  to  his  head,  and  a 
half-suppressed  cry  broke  from  Prairie-bird. 

"  Speak,  love,  speak !"  he  exclaimed  in  fran- 
tic alarm ;  '•  speak  but  one  word  to  tell  me  yon 
are  not  hurt !" 

"  I  am  not  hurt,"  she  replied;  "God  be  prais 
ed  that  you  are  also  unharmed!  Nay,  dearest, 
do  not  break  from  me."  Here  the  report  of  fire- 
arms was  again  heard,  mingled  with  the  shouia 
and  tumult  of  a  sudden  fray.  "  Our  friends  are 
on  their  guard !  you  are  still  weak  from  your 
late  wound!  Oh,  Reginald,  stay!  I  entreat — I 
implore !" 

But  he  heard  her  not;  the  din  of  arms  and  the 
foul  attempt  at  murder,  directed,  as  he  believed, 
against  the  life  of  his  betrothed,  had  awakened 
the  tempest  within  him;  the  wounded  arm  was 
released  from  its  sling,  and,  with  drawn  cutlass 
in  his  right  hand,  he  rushed  down  the  steep 
slope  of  the  hill  with  the  reckless  speed  of  a 
madman.  We  will  now  proceed  to  explain  the 
cause  of  this  sudden  interruption  of  their  tite-tl- 
lete. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  Besha  had 
been  charged  with  explaining  to  Mahega  the 
arrangements  and  plans  adopted  at  the  Upsa- 
roka council.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so,  than 
the  Osage  chief,  finding  that  the  evacuation  of 
the  camp  was  to  take  place  during  the  night, 
resolved  upon  striking,  before  they  withdrew 
from  the  neighbourhood,  one  blow  at  the  foes 
who  had  defeated  and  baflled  him. 

Too  cunning  to  be  deceived  by  the  Crows,  dx 
to  be  misled  by  the  flattery  of  Besha,  he  knew 
that  as  he  had  now  no  more  presents  to  offer, 
his  only  chance  of  retaining  any  authority  or 
influence  with  th^  was  by  such  deeds  of  da- 
ring as  should  compel  them  to  look  up  to  him  as 
a  war-leader.  This  feeling,  stimulated  by  his 
tnirst  for  revenge,  led  him  without  hesitation  to 
attempt  a  feat  which,  if  successful,  must  render 
him  the  terror  not  less  of  his  allies  than  of  his 
foes. 

As  soon  as  the  Horse-dealer  had  left  him  he 
summoned  his  few  remaining  followers,  and  in- 
formed them  that  they  must  prepare  to  march 
during  the  ensuing  night;  he  told  them  also  that 
he  was  about  to  set  forth  himself  on  the  war- 
path alone,  and  all  that  he  required  of  them  was 
to  conceal  themselves  among  the  bushes  front- 
ing towards  the  enemy's  camp,  so  as  to  cover 
his  retreat  in  case  of  his  being  pursued  from 
that  quarter,  and  that  he  intended  to  return,  if 
possible,  on  a  horse. 

The  men  listened  with  silent  attention  to  their 
leader's  orders,  and  retired  without  making, 
either  comment  or  replv.  Mahega  then  strip- 
ped himself  of  every  ornament  that  could  attract 
attention,  and  threw  off  his  hunting-shirt  and' 
leggins,  thrusting  a  brace  bf  small  pistols  aj  d  a  t 
long  knife  into  his  waist-belt;  and  with  no  oth- 
er covering  than  a  light  pair  of  moccasia-s  on 
his  feet,  he  stole  out  of  the  camp  at  a  point 
which  was  not  visible  from  the  enemy  s  rnar- 
ters. 

Availing  himself  of  every  ravine  and  undula- 
tion of  ground,  he  made  a  swift  circuit  in  the 
distant  prairie,  and  approached  the  De'aware 
camp  on  the  north-eastern  side,  where,  as  has 


163 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


been  before  mentioned,  ii  was  protected  by  a 
precipitous  cliff.  He  had  observed  a  narrow 
valley  in  this  direction,  not  more  than  half  a 
mile  from  the  base  of  the  rock,  to  which  the 
white  men  drove  their  horses  for  pasture ;  and 
as  a  view  of  it  was  commanded  from  the  height, 
they  were  only  guarded  by  a  single  man,  who 
drove  them  back  in  the  evening  to  the  camp. 
The  man  who  happened  to  be  on  duty  there  was 
a  hunter  belonging  to  the  band  brought  out  by 
Pierre,  a  brave,  and  somewhat  reckless  fellow, 
who  had  been  inured  to  all  the  hardships  and 
risks  of  a  mountain  trapper's  life. 

The  crafty  Osage,  having  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing the  important  advantage  of  seeing  his  oppo- 
nent before  he  could  be  himself  perceived,  di- 
rected his  movements  accordingly.  He  might, 
perhaps,  have  succeeded  in  creeping  near  enough 
to  shoot  him,  and  have  gained  the  shelter  of  his 
own  camp  before  he  could  be  overtaken;  but 
such  was  not  his  purpose.  He  had  determined 
that  the  bullet  now  in  his  rifle  should  lodge  in 
the  heart  of  Reginald  or  War-Eagle,  and  no 
other  life  could  satisfy  his  revenge. 

Not  more  than  a  hundred  paces  from  the  spot 
where  the  unconscious  sentry  sat,  with  his  face 
towards  the  Upsaroka  camp,  the  valley  made  a 
bend,  becoming  at  the  same  place  narrower  and 
steeper  in  its  banks;  thither  did  Mahega  stealth- 
ily creep,  and  on  reaching  it  found  that  he  was 
not  within  sight  of  his  enemy. 

After  waiting  some  time,  during  Avhich  he 
carefully  noted  every  bush  and  hillock  that 
might  be  made  subservient  to  his  projected  plan, 
he  saw  feeding  towards  him  a  steady  old  pack- 
horse,  whose  scarred  back  and  sides  showed 
that  he  had  carried  many  a  weary  burthen  over 
mountain  and  prairie.  The  Osage  remarked 
also,  that  the  animal  had  a  long  laryette  of  hide 
round  its  neck.  As  soon  as  he  felt  assured  that 
it  had  passed  the  bend,  and  could  no  longer  be 
seen  by  the  man  on  guard,  he  caught  the  end  of 
the  laryette,  and  led  his  unresisting  quadruped 
prisoner  to  a  spot  further  up  the  valley,  where 
some  thick  bushes  offered  him  the  means  of 
concealing  himself.  Here  he  twisted  the  laryette 
firmly  around  the  fore-leg  of  the  horse,  and  en- 
sconcing himself  behind  the  largest  of  the  bush- 
es, patiently  awaited  the  result. 

As  the  shades  of  evening  drew  on,  the  hunter 
rose  to  collect  and  drive  his  horses  to  the  camp. 
Having  gathered  those  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
valley,  he  afterwards  came  in  search  of  those 
that  had  strayed  beyond  the  bend.  When  his 
eye  fell  upon  the  old  pack-horse  cropping  the 
long  grass,  and  occasionally  the  younger  shoots 
of  the  adjacent  bushes,  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  The  old  fool  hasn't  sense  to  know  summer 
from  winter ;  there  he  stands,  gnawing  the  twigs 
off  the  bushes,  when  he  might  be  eating  the  best 
grass  in  the  bottom." 

As  soon  as  he  reached  the  animal  whom  he 
thus  apostrophised,  he  laid  down  his  rifle,  in 
order  to  free  the  entangled  leg  from  the  laryette. 
While  stooping  for  this  purpose,  a  slight  rus- 
tling of  leaves  caught  his  ear ;  and  ere  he  could 
-ook  round  the  fierce  Osage  sprang  upon  him 
with  the  bound  of  a  tiger.  The  untbrtunate 
man  strove  to  catch  up  his  rifle  but  the  foot  of 
the  giant  was  upon  it,  a  grasp  of  iron  was  upon 
his  throat,  and  ere  he  could  utter  a  sound  or 
raise  a  hand,  the  knife  of  the  savage  was  buried 
in  his  heart. 

Having  thus  far  succeeded  in  his  plan,  Ma- 
b6ga  dressed  "himself  from  head  to  "foot  in  the 


clothes  of  his  victim,  taking  possession  at  the 
same  time  of  his  knife  and  pistols,  having  first 
deliberately  scalped  him,  and  placed  the  scalp 
in  his  own  belt,  below  the  ill-fated  huntei's 
shirt.  When  thus  accoutred  and  attired,  the 
Osage  grinned  with  satisfaction,  and  proceeded 
to  the  next,  and  more  dangerous  portion  ol  his 
enterprise. 

His  first  step  was  to  select  and  secure  the 
best  horse  from  those  pasturing  in  the  valley, 
which  he  bridled  with  the  laryette  already  men- 
tioned; and  having  slung  the  hunter's  rifle  over 
his  shoulder,  he  mounted  his  newly-acquired 
steed,  and  began  leisurely  to  drive  the  others 
towards  the  Delaware  camp.  As  soon  as  he 
emerged  from  the  valley  he  came  in  sight  of  the 
enemy's  sentries  and  outposts;  but  the  well- 
knowil  wolf-skin  cap,  and  elk-skin  shirt,  attract- 
ed no  particular  attention,  and  he  rode  delib- 
erately forward  until  he  reached  a  huge  pine- 
tree,  the  shade  of  whose  branches  was  rendered 
yet  more  dark  by  the  deepening  gloom  of  even- 
ing. Here  he  fastened  his  horse;  and  leaving 
the  others  to  find  their  way  as  they  best  might, 
he  struck  boldly  into  the  thicket  that  fringed  th« 
base  of  the  hill. 

Conscious  that  he  was  now  in  the  midst  of 
enemies,  and  that  his  life  must  depend  upon  his 
own  skill  and  address,  he  crept  forv/ard  up  the 
steep  ascent,  now  stopping  to  listen  for  the  sound 
uf  a  footfall,  now  straining  his  eyes  through  the 
dusky  shade,  in  search  of  some  light  or  object 
by  which  to  direct  his  course.  Knowing  every 
inch  of  the  ground,  he  was  soon  able  to  distin- 
guish the  angle  of  the  stockade,  and  at  no  great 
distance  above  it  the  white  tent,  partially  light- 
ed up  by  a  fire,  round  which  were  seated  Mon- 
sieur Perrot,  Pierre,  and  several  others. 

As  night  drew  on,  and  the  surrounding  scen- 
ery became  involved  in  deeper  gloom,  the  watch- 
fire  emitted  a  stronger  light,  by  which  Mahega 
caught,  at  length,  a  view  of  Reginald  seated  by 
the  side  of  Prairie-bird.  All  the  stormy  pas- 
sions in  his  breast,  jealousy,  hatred,  and  re- 
venge, were  kindled  at  the  sight;  and  as  soon 
as  he  thought  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  truly  aimed 
at  his  rival's  heart,  he  fired.  Fortunate  was  i) 
for  Reginald  that  the  light  cast  by  the  fire  was 
flickering  and  uncertain,  or  that  hour  had  been 
his  last. 

The  savage,  without  waiting  to  see  the  result 
of  his  shot,  which  had  alarmed  the  hunters  and 
the  Delawares  patroling  near  the  spot,  rushed 
down  the  hill  towards  the  tree  where  he  had  left 
his  horse.  Twice  was  his  path  crossed  by  an 
enemy;  the  first  he  felled  with  a  blow  on  the 
head  from  the  discharged  rifle,  and  the  second, 
which  was  no  less  a  person  than  honest  Bap- 
tiste  himself,  he  narrowly  missed,  in  firing  a 
pistol  in  his  face  at  so  near  a  distance  that,  al- 
though unhurt  by  the  ball,  his  cheek  was  singed 
by  the  powder. 

Completely  taken  by  surprise,  the  Guide  fired 
into  the  bushes  after  the  retreating  figure  of  his 
unknown  foe,  and  then  dashed  forward  in  pur- 
suit; but  the  darkness  favoured  the  escape  ol 
the  Osage,  who  never  paused  nor  turned  again 
until  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  fastened 
the  horse;  then  vaulting  on  its  back,  he  shouted 
his  insulting  war-cry,  in  a  voice  that  might  be 
heard  above  all  the  mingled  sounds  ol  pursuit, 
struck  his  heel  into  the  flank  of  the  captured 
steed,  and,  unscathed  by  any  of  the  bullets  that 
whistled  after  him,  reacncd  the  Crow  camp  is 
safety. 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Ui 


The  Osage  warriors  looked  with  some  sur- 
prise upon  their  chief  in  his  unusual  attire,  but 
be  briefly  returned  their  greeting,  and  proceeded 
without  delay  to  the  lodge  of  the  Upsaroka 
chief.  A  fire  was  burning  there,  by  the  light  of 
which  he  recognised  the  old  man  seated  in  the 
midst,  with  his  son,  "White-Bull,  on  his  right 
and  Besha  at  some  distance  on  his  left.  Ma- 
hega  had  by  this  time  thrown  off  the  garments 
of  the  slain  hunter,  which  were  slung  across  the 
horse.  Leading  the  latter  forward,  until  the 
light  of  the  fire  fell  upon  it  and  upon  himself, 
he  stood  a  moment  in  an  attitude  of  haughty 
tnd  silent  expectati  )q.  White-Bull  and  his  fa- 
ther raised  their  eyes  in  surprise  at  the  sudden 
appearance  of  their  guest,  and  in  involuntary 
admiration  of  his  herculean  figure,  the  fine  pro- 
portions of  which  were  seen  to  advantage  by 
the  ruddy  glare  of  the  blazing  logs.  ■ 

"  Let  Besha  tell  my  brother  he  is  welcome," 
said  the  old  chief,  cautiously;  "and  let  him  in- 
quire whence  he  comes,  and  what  he  has  to 
say." 

"  Mahega  is  come,"  replied  the  proud  Osage, 
"  from  a  visit  to  the  pale-faces  ?.nd  the  Lenape 
women.  His  hands  are  not  empty;  the  shirt, 
the  leggins,  the  belt,  the  head-dress,  and  the 
norse  of  a  white  hunter  he  has  brought  as  a 
present  to  the  Upsaroka  chief  If  White-Bull 
will  receive  the  Medicine-iccapon,*  the  heart  of 
Mahega  will  be  glad." 

White-Bull  and  his  father  accepted  the  offer- 
ed presents  with  every  demonstration  of  satis- 
faction. The  latter,  again  addressing  Besha, 
desired  him  thus  to  speak: 

"  Mahega  forgets  that  all  his  goods  are  in  the 
hands  of  his  enemies — does  he  keep  nothing  for 
himselfl" 

The  Osage  made  no  reply,  but  drawing  the 
recent  scalp  from  his  belt,  and  pointing  to  it,  the 
<cnife  still  red  with  human  blood,  he  smiled 
.scornfully,  and  strode  through  the  camp  back 
*o  his  own  lodge.  His  purpose  was  effected ; 
he  had  succeeded  in  his  daring  exploit,  and,  al- 
though uncertain  of  the  result  of  the  shot  fired 
Rt  Reginald,  he  had  regained  some  of  his  influ- 
ence over  the  Upsaroka  chief  and  his  intract- 
able son.  Mahega  pondered  over  these  things 
in  his  lodge,  as  he  mechanically  attached  the 
scalp  of  his  last-killed  foe  to  a  thong,  on  which 
were  already  fastened  many  similar  trophies  of 
his  former  proAvess. 

His  musings  were  soon  disturbed  by  the  voice 
-;f  Besha,  who  entered  the  lodge,  bearing  a  sack 
of  considerable  dimensions,  which  he  deposited 
upon  the  ground.  "  Mahega  is  a  great  war- 
rior," said  he,  greeting  the  Osage  with  some- 
thing of  the  reluctant  courtesy  which  a  terrier 
>;hows  to  a  mastiff;  "  his  name  will  be  heard  far 
among  the  tribes  of  the  Upsaroka  nation.  The 
3reat  Chief  wishes  lo  make  his  Washashe 
brother  a  present :  th§Ee  horses  stand  without 
the  lodge  to  carry  the  followers  of  Mahega  on 
the  path  of  the  bison,  or  of  the  Lenape." 

The  eye  of  the  chief  brightened  with  fierce 
pleasure  at  this  announcement,  as  two  of  his 
few  remaining  men  were  unhorsed,  and  he  satis- 
fied himself,  by  going  to  the  door  of  the  lodge, 


'  At  the  date  of  this  tale  the  use  of  fire-arms  -was  very 
little  known  among  the  tribes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  ;  and  in  most  of  their  langTiaeres,  to  this 
day,  the  words  by  which  they  express  "a  rifle"  signify, 
usually,   "  medicine-wespon,"  "  wonderfiil  fire-weapon," 

fire-tube,"  &c.,  &c 


that  the  horses  now  presented  to  him  were  good 
and  fit  for  service. 

"  That  is  not  all,"  continued  the  horse-dealer; 
"White-Bull  knows  that  the  medicine-weapon 
cannot  live  without  food;  he  has  sent  me  to  of- 
fer this  bag  to  Mahega." 

As  he  spoke  Besha  opened  the  sack,  and  ex- 
posed to  the  view  of  the  Osage  powder  and  lead 
sufficient  for  fifty  or  sixty  shots,  and  half  a 
dozen  pair  of  strong  moccasins,  such  as  are 
made  by  the  Crow  women  for  tneir  lords. 

"  The  hand  of  the  Upsaroka  is  open,"  said 
Mahega;  ."tell  him  that  his  gifts  shall  not  fall 
upon  the  ground;  the  lead  shall  be  buried  in 
the  hearts  of  his  enemies." 

Besha,  having  given  to  the  thief  a  few  brief 
explanations  of  the  hour  and  the  arrangements 
fixed  for  the  night-march,  withdrew,  and  left 
him  to  communicate  them  to  his  followers. 

We  must  now  return  to  Reginald  Brandon, 
whom  we  left  engaged  in  ihe  disagreeable  and 
perilous  task  of  pursuing  an  unseen  enemy 
down  the  slope  of  a  steep  hill  in  the  dark.  His 
was  not,  however,  a  foot  or  a  heart  likely  to 
fail  him  in  such  an  emergency,  and,  reckless 
alike  of  obstacles  or  of  the  difficulties  in  his 
path,  he  continued  his  rapid  descent,  and  soon 
found  himself  among  the  glades  and  bushes 
whence  the  firing  had  aroused  his  attention. 
Advancing  with  his  drawn  cutlass  still  in  his 
hand,  he  stumbled  over  something,  which  he 
found  to  be  the  prostrate  form  of  a  man,  and  in 
whom  he  recognised,  by  his  dress,  one  of  his 
own  party.  Finding  that  he  could  extract  from 
him  nothing  but  broken  and  muttered  sentences 
about  "  the  devil"  and  "  the  darkness,"  he  hast- 
ened on  until  he  reached  a  spot  where  he  heard 
several  voices  in  earnest  conversation  ;  these 
he  found  lo  be  War-Eagle,  Wingenund,  and 
Baptiste ;  and  he  soon  gathered  from  the  latter 
all  that  he  had  to  tell,  which  was,  that  having 
suddenly  heard  the  crack  of  a  rifle  in  the  camp, 
and  then  a  man  rushing  through  the  bushes  in 
descending  the  hill,  he  had  thrown  himself  in 
the  way  of  the  stranger,  who,  after  nearly  blind- 
ing him  by  the  discharge  of  a  pistol  in  his  face, 
had  darted  past  him  into  the  thicket  below.  "  I 
fired  after  him,"  continued  the  honest  Guide, 
"both  pistol  and  rifle,  but  I  scarcely  think  I  hit 
him,  for,  on  reaching  the  edge  of  the  timber,  I 
could  just  distinguish  a  horseman  crossing  the 
prairie  at  full  speed  to  the  Crow  camp;  'tis  a 
bad  business,  but  I  fear  there  is  worse  yet  be- 
hind." 

"  How  mean  youl"  inquired  Reginald. 
"Why,  I  fear  some  foul  play  in  our  own 
camp ;  the  fellow  who  shot  the  pistol  at  me  was 
one  of  our  party." 

"  Impossible!"  said  Reginald  ;  "  I  will  not  be- 
lieve it." 

"  Neither  would  I,  if  I  could  help  it,"  replied 
the  Guide  ;  "but  dark  as  it  was,  I  could  plainly 
see  the  fur-cap  and  elk-shirt  upon  him  ;  whoev- 
er it  was,  he  joined  Mahega  on  the  prairie,  for 
the  Washashe  shouted  his  cursed  warwhoop 
aloud  to  insult  us." 

Wingenund  here  whispered  a  few  words  to 
War-Eagle,  who  reph'ed,  "Right,  my  young 
brother,  let  us  visit  the  posts  and  the  fires,  we 
shall  soon  see  who  is  missing." 

While  the  chief,  with  the  aid  of  Pierre  and 
Baptiste,  undertook  this  task,  Reginald  returced, 
accompanied  by  Wingenund,  to  the  spot  where 
he  had  stumbled  pver  the  wounded  man.  They 
found  him  seated  in  the  same  place,  but  his 


104 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


senses  had  returned,  and  with  the  exception  of 
the  severe  bruises  on  the  head,  they  were  glad 
to  learn  that  he  was  uninjured.  He  could  give 
no  account  of  what  had  passed  further  than  that 
already  given  by  Baptiste.  He  had  been  pros- 
trated and  stunned  by  a  heavy  blow  from  some 
one  descending  the  hill  with  great  rapidity  ;  he 
also  stated  his  impression  that  he  had  distin- 
guished the  dress  of  a  white  hunter. 

The  result  of  the  invesiigalion  may  of  course 
be  anticipated ;  the  unfortunate  owner  of  the 
■wolf-skin  cap  was  suspected  of  having  plotted 
■with  Mahega,  and  (after  aiding  him  in  an  at- 
tempt to  murder  Reginald)  of  having  gone  off 
with  one  of  the  best  horses  to  the  Crow  camp. 
-  Such  was  the  conjecture  of  some,  and  if  there 
were  others  who  guessed  more  nearly  at  the 
truth,  their  opinions  were  for  the  present  re- 
served ;  it  being,  however,  impossible  to  make 
further  inquiry  until  daylight,  the  different  par- 
ties retired  to  their  respective  quarters,  and  Re- 
ginald again  sought  the  tent  to  give  to  Prairie- 
bird  an  account  of  what  had  passed,  and  to  as- 
sure her  of  his  safe  return.  At  the  first  sound 
of  his  voice  she  came  forth,  and  listened  with 
breathless  attention  to  his  brief  narration.  The 
Avatch-fire  had  been  fed  with  fresh  fuel,  and  its 
light  falling  upon  her  countenance,  enabled  her 
lover  to  see  the  intense  anxiety  which  it  express- 
ed ;  a  handkerchief,  hastily  folded  like  a  turban, 
covered  her  head,  and  a  dark  Mexican  mantle 
was  thrown  over  her  shoulders  ;  her  hand  trem- 
bled in  his,  and  a  slight  shudder  passed  through 
her  frame  as  he  mentioned  the  name  of  Ma- 
hega. 

"  Nay,  dearest,"  said  Reginald,  "  I  shall  grieve 
indeed,  if  the  name  of  that  hateful  savage  hath 
power  so  to  move  and  disturb  your  peace.  Fear 
him  not :  believe  me,  we  shall  yet  defeat  all 
his  attempts,  whether  of  hidden  fraud  or  open 
force." 

"There  is  no  room,  dear  Reginald,  for  thoughts 
of  fear  for  the  future  in  my  heart,  'tis  already 
full,  too  full,  of  gratitude  for  the  past;  you  are 
again  by  my  side,  safe  and  unhurt.  Yet,  me- 
thinks,  I  am  sadly  changed  of  late  !  A  short 
time  since,  the  report  of  the  rifle,  the  arrow's 
hissing  path,  brought  no  terror  to  my  ear,  and 
now  I  tremble  when  I  hear  them  !  Will  you 
not  regret  having  chosen  a  coward  for  your 
bride  T' 

"  Perhaps  I  may,"  said  Reginald,  "  when  the 
thirsty  summer-grass  regrets  being  moistened 
by  the  dew  of  heaven  ;  when  the  watchful  moth- 
er regrets  that  she  has  borne  the  infant  by  whose 
cradle  she  is  seated ;  when  the  miser  regrets 
having  discovered  an  unsuspected  treasure;  and 
the  weary  traveller  regrets  having  found  a  fresh 
spring  amid  the  burning  sands  of  the  desert; 
then  may  I  perhaps  regret  having  chosen  Prai- 
rie-bird to  be  to  my  thirsting  heart  its  summer- 
dew,  its  firstling,  its  treasure,  its  fountain  of  ex- 
haustless  joy  and  love  !" 

Although  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had 
received  the  assurance  of  his  affection,  her  car 
drank  it  in  with  delight ;  the  repetitions  of  Love 
have  for  his  votaries  perpetual  freshness  and 
variety. 

"  How  silTer-sweet  sound  lovers'  tongues  by  night  1" 

So  says  one  of  the  fairest  creations  of  the 
Great  interpreter  of  human  passion ;  yet  it  is 
only  to  each  other  that  these  voices  do  so  sweet- 
ly £0und ;  to  others  less  interested,  their  par- 
lance is  apt  to  seem  dull  and  monotonous. 


Neither  would  a  dinner  of  honey  or  Gnava  je'- 
ly  alone  be  more  nauseous  and  disappointing  k 
the  appetite  of  a  hungry  man  than  a  volume 
filled  with  love-letters,  or  love-speeches,  to  one 
in  search  of  literary  food.  Duly  impressed  with 
this  truth,  we  will  spare  any  further  detail  of 
the  conversation  that  passed  between  Rej;i- 
nald  and  his  betrothed,  and  will  content  cur- 
selves  with  relating  that,  after  more  than  one 
"  Good-night !"  such  as  only  lovers  know.  Prai- 
rie-bird retired  into  her  tent,  with  her  thoughts 
so  absorbed  in  one  object  that  she  was  scarcely 
conscious  of  the  affectionate  attentions  of  her 
faithful  Lita,  or  of  the  watchful  care  of  young 
Wingenund,  who  took  his  accustomed  station 
at  the  entrance  to  the  outer  division  of  his  sis- 
ter's canvass  dwelling. 

An  hour  before  the  dawn  the  wakeful  youth 
arose  and  looked  abroad  ;  the  pale  and  expiring 
fires  of  the  opposite  camp  were  still  distinctly 
visible ;  but  his  practised  ear  missed  the  usual 
sounds  of  Indian  life — the  hum  of  men,  the  cries 
of  children,  and  the  barking  of  curs.  Having 
learned  the  use  of  Reginald's  spy-glass,  he  took 
it  down  from  the  peg  on  which  it  was  suspend- 
ed, and  examined  the  opposite  hill.  As  the 
light  of  day  gradually  advanced,  and  objects  be- 
came more  easily  distinguishable,  his  suspicions 
became  confirmed,  and  he  resolved  no  longer  to 
delay  communicating  them  to  War-Eagle.  He 
found  the  chief  seated  at  the  door  of  his  lodge, 
in  an  attitude  which  he  at  first  mistook  for 
slumber,  but  it  proved  to  be  one  of  deep  medita- 
tion ;  for,  cm  the  youth's  approach  he  looked  up, 
and  said,  in  the  gentle  tone  in  which  he  always 
addressed  his  beloved  brother, 

"Wingenund  is  a-foot  before  the  sun;  have 
his  ears  or  e)'es  been  open  during  the  night  1" 

"  They  have,"  said  the  youth,  gravely ;  "  and 
the  words  that  he  brings  to  his  brother  are  not 
good." 

"  The  Wolf  cap  hunter  is  gone  to  the  Upsa 
roka  camp ;  that  is  bad  news ;  is  there  any 
worse  1" 

"Wingenund  knows  nothing  of  the  Wolf-cap 
hunter;  but  the  Upsaroka  camp  is  like  the  vil- 
lage  of  the  Lcnap6'on  the  prairies  of  the  east; 
there  remains  in  it  neither  man,  nor  woman, 
nor  child!" 

War-Eagle  sprang  upon  his  feet,  and  hastily 
desiring  Wingenund  to  summon  Reginald,  Bap- 
tiste, and  Pierre  to  council,  he  descended  the 
hill  to  the  spot  where  his  horses  were  fastened, 
and  throwing  himself  upon  the  back  of  the 
swiftest,  he  galloped  at  full  spesd  towards  the 
opposite  camp.  As  he  approached  it,  he  began 
to  suspect  that  its  apparent  desertion  might  be 
only  a  manopuvre  to  draw  his  party  into  an  am- 
bush, wherefore  he  wheeled  his  horse  and  made 
a  circuit  round  the  base  of  the  hill,  at  such  a 
distance  as  to  be  secure  from  the  arrow  or  ball 
of  any  marksman  hidden  among  the  bushes. 
As  he  gained  a  spot  whrace  the  expanse  of  prai- 
rie was  open  to  his  view  towards  the  south-west, 
he  saw  a  body  of  horsemen  retreating  rapidly  in 
that  direction  ;  thev  were  already  several  miles 
from  the  camp,  and  he  rightly  conjectured  them 
to  be  the  rear-guard  of  the  retiring  enemy. 

The  main-body  had  marched  early  in  th# 
night,  and  only  a  score  of  the  best  mounted  had 
been  left  to  walk  up  and  down  by  the  fires,  tc 
talk  aloud,  and  thus  to  prevent  any  suspicion 
of  their  movements  from  entering  the  Delaware 
camp. 

V«ied  and  disappointedj  the  chief  returned  to 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


165 


Ms  party,  which  he  found  in  confusion  and  dis- 
vnay,  from  their  having  just  discovered  the  body 
nf  the  unfortunate  Wolf-cap  hunter,  one  of  his 
jompanions  having  visited  the  valley  before 
mentioned,  in  search  of  the  missing  horse  and 
aryette ! 

The  mystery  was  now  cleared  up,  and  the 
ruth  flashed  upon  them  that  Mahega,  dressed 
Ji  the  clothes  of  their  slain  comrade,  had  ac- 
ually  come  -within  their  posts,  and,  after  a  de- 
liberate attempt  to  shoot  Reginald,  had  singed 
the  beard  of  Baptiste,  knocked  down  another  of 
their  party,  stolen  one  of  their  best  horses,  and 
escaped  in  triumph  to  his  camp! 

It  may  well  be  imagined  how  such  a  compli- 
cation of  injury  and  insult  aggravated  the  hatred 
which  they  already  entertained  towards  the 
Osage.  Yet  were  there  many  among  the  rough 
and  hardy  men  present,  who  could  not  prevent 
feeling  a  secret  admiration  of  his  daring  and 
successful  exploit. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

Wingeniuid  deTises  a  Plan  for  the  Liberation  of  his  Friends, 
and  seeks  to  obtain  by  Means  equally  unusual  and  effect- 
ive the  Co-operation  of  the  one-eyed  Horse-dealer.— A 
further  March  into  the  Mountains- — Wingenund  pays  a 
Visit  to  his  Friends,  and  the  Latter  make  ac(iuaintauce 
irith  a  strange  Character. 

It  was  about  a  week  after  the  events  related 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  that,  in  a  deep  roman- 
tic glen,  apparently  locked  in  by  impassable 
mountains,  there  sate  a  hunter  busily  engaged 
in  changing  the  flint  of  his  rifle,  it  having  just 
missed  fire,  and  thereby  lost  him  a  fine  chance 
of  killing  a  bighorn,  or  mountain  sheep;  his 
countenance  expressed  little  of  the  disappoint- 
ment which  would  have  been  felt  by  a  younger 
man  on  such  an  occasion,  and  its  harsh,  coarse 
features  would  have  led  any  observer  to  believe 
that  their  possessor  was  habituated  to  occupa- 
tions less  generous  and  harmless  than  those  of 
the  chase. 

As  he  fixed  a  fresh  flint  into  the  lock  of  his 
rifle,  he  hummed,  or  rather  grunted,  in  a  low 
toncj  a  kind  of  chaunt,  which  was  a  mixture  of 
half  a  score  different  tunes,  and  as  many  various 
dialects,  but  from  the  careless  deliberation  with 
which  he  went  on  with  his  work,  it  was  easy  to 
pergeive  that  his  mind  was  otherwise  occupied. 

Whatever  might  have  been  his  reflections,  they 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  hand  laid  upon 
his  shoulder,  which  made  him  start  as  if  he  had 
been  stung  by  a  serpent.  Springing  to  his  feet, 
and  instinctively  dropping  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle 
to  the  breast  of  his  unexpected  visitor,  he  ex- 
claimed, after  a  momentary  pause,  "  Does  Win- 
genund come  as  a  friend  or  an  enemy  V 

"  JS^either,"  repliedfche  youth,  scornfully. 
"Wingenund  has  n^friendship  for  a  forked 
tongue ;  and  if  he  had  come  afs  an  enemy,  Besha 
would  not  now  have  been  alive  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion; 'twas  as  easy  to  shoot  him  as  to  touch  his 
shoiilder." 

"  For  what  then  is  he  come  1"  inquired  the 
horse-dealer,  who,  although  somewhat  abashed 
at  this  reproof,  was  not  disposed  to  endure  the 
tone  of  superiority  assumed  towards  him  by  the 
young  Delaware. 

"  He  is  come  to  spesk  to  Bef  ha,  and  then  to 
return ;  this  is  not  a  f»? -.2  tr  'tic  t  rwiy  words 
and  lime," 


"  Indeed  it  is  not,  for  Wingenund  knows  that 
his  enemies  are  within  hearing  of  a  rifle  shot." 

"  There  may  be  other  rifles  nearer  than  Besha 
thinks,"  replied  the  youth  drily.  "  Wingenund 
is  not  a  bird;  wherever  he  goes  friends  can  fol- 
low him." 

The  horse-dealer  cast  an  uneasy  glance 
around,  and  muttered  half  aloud,  "  If  Winge- 
nund is  not  a  bird,  I  know  not  how  he  came  to 
this  place  unseen  by  the  Upsaroka  scouts,  who 
are  abroad  in  every  quarter  1" 

To  this  Wingenund  deigned  no  reply,  but  en- 
tered at  once  upon  the  business  upon  which  he 
had  come.  As  he  explained  his  proposal  the 
single  eye  of  his  auditor  seemed  to  dilate  with 
unfeigned  astonishment,  and  at  its  conclusion  he 
shook  his  head,  saying,  "It  cannot  be!  the  mad 
spirit  has  entered  my  young  brother's  head. 
Besha  would  do  much  to  serve  his  friends,  but 
this  would  hold  a  knife  to  the  cord  of  his  own 
life  !" 

"  The  knife  is  there  already,"  said  the  youth, 
sternly ;  "  Besha  has  told  lies  to  Netis  and  to 
War-Eagle,  and  unless  he  makes  good  his  first 
words,  their  knife  or  bullet  shall  find  him  on  the 
mountain  or  in  the  wood,  or  in  the  midst  of  the 
Upsaroka  camp." 

For  an  instant  Besha  was  tempted  to  rush  upon 
the  bold  speaker  and  trust  the  issue  to  his  supe- 
rior strength,  but  the  quiet  eye  of  the  young  Dela- 
ware was  fixed  upon  him  with  an  expression  so 
fearless  and  resolved,  that  he  involuntarily  quail- 
ed before  it,  and  as  he  was  endeavouring  to 
frame  some  further  excuse,  the  youth  continued 
in  a  tone  of  voice  less  stern,  "  Let  Besha's  ears 
be  open,  it  is  not  yet  too  late ;  if  he  chooses  to 
be  friends  with  Netis,  Wingenund  can  tell  him 
some  news  that  will  be  good  for  the  person 
whom  he  loves  best." 

"  And  who  may  that  be  V  said  the  horse-deal- 
er, doubtless  surprised  at  the  youth's  pretending 
to  a  knowledge  of  his  affections. 

"Himself,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

The  horse-dealer's  eye  twjnkled  with  a  comic 
expression,  and  a  broad  grin  sat  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. "Supposing  that  my  young  brother's 
words  are  true,  what  is  the  good  news  that  he 
has  to  tell  V 

"  If  the  white  prisoners  are  given  back  unhurt 
to  their  friends,  the  lodge  of  Besha  shall  be  more 
full  of  gifts  than  any  lodge  on  the  banks  of  the 
great  southern  river;*  if  not,  the  mountain  wolves 
shall  gnaw  his  bones  before  the  change  of  an- 
other moon:  let  him  choose  for  himself" 

"My  brother's  words  are  big,"  replied  the 
horse-dealer,  striving  to  overcome  the  effect  pro-  ., 
duced  upon  him  by  the  threat  of  the  Delaware  4 
youth.  "  The  tongues  of  women  are  very  brave; 
if  the  Washashe  tell  the  truth,  not  many  sum- 
mers have  passed  since  the  Lenape  were  a  wom- 
an-people." 

The  blood  of  the  young  chief  boiled  within 
him  at  this  insulting  allusion  to  an  era  in  the 
history  of  his  tribe  which  has  already  been  ex- 
plained to  the  reader,  and  had  he  followed  his 
first  fierce  impulse  he  would  have  instantly 
avenged  the  afi'ront  in  the  blood  of  the  speaker, 
but  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  object  for  which  he 
had  so  long  sought  an  interview  with  the  horse- 
dealer,  wherefore  he  controlled  his  risirg  pas- 
sion, and  replied,  "Wingenund  comes  with  this 
message  from  those  who  not  many  days  ago 
drove  the  Washashe  and  the  Upsaroka  from 


*  The  Ark  ansa* 


166 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


their  strong  camp:  Besha  may  judge  whether 
they  are  women  or  warriors." 

The  horse-dealer  felt,  if  he  did  not  own,  the 
justice  of  the  reproof;  he  knew  also  that  the 
greater  portion  of  the  coveted  goods  were  in  the 
possession  of  War-Eagle's  party,  and  he  was 
willing  enough  to  conciliate  them,  provided  he 
could  ensure  a  safe  retreat  from  the  anger  of  the 
Crows,  in  the  event  of  his  intrigue  being  discov- 
ered by  them. 

Moved  by  these  considerations,  he  said,  in  an 
undecided  tone,  "My  young  brother  must  not 
forget  that  the  edge  of  the  knife  is  on  the  cord  of 
his  life ;  if  Besha  agrees  to  his  proposal,  and  the 
Crows  discover  him,  he  will  be  torn  in  pieces 
like  a  wounded  elk  among  wolves." 

"  The  life  of  Wingenund  is  like  the  breath  of 
the  mountain  breeze,"  answered  the  youth ;  "  it  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  Great  Spirit,  to  move  and 
send  it  whither  he  pleases.  Let  Besha  taste  this 
black  water,"  he  added,  drawing  from  his  belt  a 
small  bottle,  "  it  is  very  wonderful." 

The  horse-dealer  took  the  phial,  which  con- 
tained a  strong,  and  not  very  palatable  mixture, 
which  had  been  borrowed  by  Wingenund  from 
his  sister's  chest  of  medicine ;  but  he  declined 
tasting  it,  shaking  bis  head  in  a  manner  that 
gave  the  youth  to  understand  that  he  suspected 
something  of  a  hurtful  or  poisonous  nature. 

"  Let  not  Besha  be  afraid,"  said  the  youth, 
scornfully ;  "  the  tomahawk  and  the  rifle  are  the 
death-weapons  of  the  Lenape,  they  war  not  with 
bad-waters  !"  and  as  he  spoke  he  drank  a  portion 
of  the  dark  and  distasteful  liquid. 

It  would  now  have  been  held,  according  to  In- 
dian custom,  an  act  of  unpardonable  cowardice 
in  Besha  had  he  any  longer  hesitated  to  taste 
the  pledge,  and  whatever  doubts  or  scruples  he 
might  in  secret  have  entertained,  he  concealed 
them,  and  drank  off  the  remaining  contents  of 
the  phial. 

As  soon  as  he  had  swallowed  them,  the  youth, 
pointing  up  to  the  sky,  said,  with  much  solemni- 
ty, "  Now  Wingenund  and  Besha  are  before  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  they  must  beware  what  they 
do.  This  dark-water  was  given  into  their  hands 
by  the  Medicine  of  the  white  tent ;  it  is  made  up 
by  Prairie-bird  from  a  thousand  unknown  herbs; 
it  is  harmless  to  the  good,  .but  it  is  poison  to  the 
forked  tongue !  Has  Besha  ever  heard  of  the  sick- 
ness which  makes  the  skin  like  a  honey-comb; 
which  spares  neither  woman,  warrior,  nor  child; 
and  in  the  course  of  half  a  moon  turns  a  power- 
ful tribe  into  a  feeble  and  exhausted  band  V 

"  He  has  heard  of  it,"  replied  the  horse-dealer, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot  at  this  allusion  to 
that  fell  disease,*  which  had  already  begun  its 
fearful  ravages  among  the  Indian  nations,  and 
has  since  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter  the  descrip- 
tion given  of  it  by  the  Delaware  youth.  Its  ori- 
gin and  causes  were  unknown,  its  cure  beyond 
their  skill;  it  is  not  therefore  to  be  wondered  at 
if  they  looked  upon  it  with  a  mysterious  dread. 

"Yes,"  continued  Wingenund,  "if  truth  is  on 
the  lips  and  in  the  heart  of  Besha,  th^  medicine- 
water  will  be  good  for  him  and  make  him  strong. 
If  he  thinks  of  falsehood,  and  lies  spring  up  in 
his  heart,  but  he  overcomes  the  bad  spirit  within, 
ind  treads  it  under  his  foot,  then  will  the  medi- 
cine-water give  him  pain  for  a  short  time,  but  he 
will  recover  and  be  stronger  than  before;  and  if 
hi?  lips  and  heart  continue  full  of  deceit,  diseases 
and  sores  shall  come  so  thicK  upon  his  skin  that 


*  SmaU-poi 


he  shall.die  among  these  rocks,  the  hungry  wolf 
and  the  turkey-buzzard  shall  refuse  to  come  near 
the  polluted  carcase." 

Such,  or  nearly  such,  was  the  warning  threat 
which  the  youth  held  forth  in  the  bold  and  fig- 
urative language  of  his  tribe;  and  although  Be- 
sha could  not  with  justice  be  called  a  cow^d, 
and  was  superior  to  many  of  the  superstitions  oi 
the  Indian  nations,  still  he  had  heard  such  well- 
authenticated  accounts  of  the  miraculous  power 
of  the  Great  Medicine  of  the  tent,  that  the  words 
of  Wingenund  produced  all,  and  more  than  all, 
the  effect  he  had  anticipated. 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  said  Besha,  in  a  subdued 
tone;  "let  Wingenund  tell  Olitipa  that  the  lips 
and  the  heart  of  her  friend  will  be  true,  and  let 
him  desire  her  to  speak  to  the  Great  Spirit,  that 
the  medicine-water  may  not  hurt  him.  Besha 
will  be  true;  if  the  Crows  discover  and  kill 
Wingenund,  the  hands  of  Besha  shall  be  cl^ar 
of  his  blood." 

"  Let  the  words  of  Wingenund  remain  in  Be- 
sha's  ears ;  let  his  tongue  and  his  path  be  straight, 
and  the  hearts  and  hands  of  the  Lenape  will  be 
open  to  him.  At  two  hours  after  nightfall* 
Wingenund  will  be  here  again." 

So  saying,  the  youth  turned,  and  darting 
through  some  low  bushes,  clambered  up  the 
steep  and  rocky  bed  of  a  mountain-torrent  with 
the  activity  of  a  mountain-cat. 

Besha  followed  with  his  eyes  the  light  form  o» 
the  young  Delaware,  until  it  disappeared  behind 
a  tail  cliff  that  projected  so  far  across  the  narrow 
gorge  as  completely  to  hide  its  existence  from 
the  observation  of  any  one  traversing  the  valley, 
while  its  rugged  and  precipitous  front  might  have 
deterred  the  boldest  hunter  from  attempting  the 
passage.  The  horse-dealer  then  shouldered  his 
rifle,  and  returned  slowly  to  the  Crow  camp, 
distant  about  a  mile,  revolving  as  he  went  along 
various  schemes  for  ensuring  the  gratitude  of 
the  Delawares,  without  forfeiting  the  friendship 
of  those  with  whom  he  was  now  allied. 

Wingenund  had  rightly  estimated  the  probable 
nature  and  quality  of  his  reflections,  and  sundry 
sharp  twitches  which  he  felt  in  his  stomach 
served  to  remind  him  of  the  dangerous  liquid 
which  it  contained.  Warned  by  these  sensa- 
tions, he  made  up  his  mind  to  obey  the  Great 
Medicine  of  the  tent,  and  for  the  present,  at  least, 
to  be  faithful  to  the  promise  made  to  Wingenund. 

The  Delaware  youth  pursued  his  way  up  the 
rough  and  craggy  gorge  until  he  reached  a  cave 
that  he  had  noticed  on  his  descent  as  likely  to 
afford  shelter  and  a  secure  retreat.  Here  he 
stopped;  and  ensconcing  himself  in  a  dark  re- 
cess, whence  he  could,  without  being  himself 
discovered,  see  any  one  passing  before  the  aper- 
ture, he  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  draw- 
ing from  his  belt  a  few  slices  of  dried  bison- 
meat,  he  made  his  frugal  meal,  and  quenched 
his  thirst  from  a  streaml||gttiat  trickled  down  the 
face  of  the  rock  behind  hlJP  While  resting  him- 
self, he  indulged  ijp»pes  and  reveries  suited  ti 
his  enthusiastic  nature;  he  was  new  engaf.e.; 


*  It  has  before  been  inentioned\that  the  division  »-d  iio 
tation  of  time  vary  extremely  in  the  Indirrn  tribe'  ;  thos* 
who  have  had  much  commerce  with  tlie  Whiv„s  \n^e  coin 
eJ  words  answenn?  to  what  we  denominate  '.ok/s  ;  but  th» 
tribes  of  the  Far-western  prairies  usuall"  .'Xpress  the  suc- 
cessive periods  of  the  night  by  resting-  t'.e  cheek  upon  thi 
hand  in  a  recumbent  posture,  and  thep,h  iding  up  llie  fore- 
finger and  thumb  m  the  form  of  a  cr.sccn*.,  they  shew,  br 
the  number  of  motions  which  the)  mi .<»  in  pcintin-  to  th» 
sky,  the  number  of  hours  or  waf  >  es  aftei  uighlfali  wnich 
they  vrish  to  indicate. 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


167 


{Q  an  enterprise  such  as  he  had  often  heard  re- 
corded in  the  songs  of  the  Lenape  warriors;  he 
was  about  to  trust  himself  alone  in  the  midst  of 
a  hostile  camp,  and  to  risk  his  life  for  the  liber- 
ation of  his  early  benefactor  and  the  friend  of 
his  adopted  brother;  he  felt  the  spirit  of  his  fa- 
thers stir  within  his  breast. 

"  If  I  escape,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  they  shall 
escape  with  me ;  and  if  I  die,  I  will  not  die  alone, 
and  the  name  of  Wingenund  shall  not  be  for- 
gotten among  the  warriors  of  his  tribe." 

In  these  and  similar  meditations  he  beguiled 
the  hours  until  darkness  overspread  the  earth, 
and  the  time  of  the  appointed  rendezvous  drew 
nigh;  then,  once  more  emerging  from  the  cave, 
he  picked  his  way  cautiously  among  the  rocks, 
and  at  length  found  himself  at  the  spot  where 
he  had  parted  from  Besha.  Having  purposely 
concealed  his  rifle  in  the  cave,  he  was  now  arm- 
ed only  with  a  knife  and  a  small  pistol,  which 
he  carried  in  his  belt. 

The  night  was  cold  and  boisterous;  dark 
clouds  hung  around  the  mountain-peaks,  and 
chased  each  other  in  rapid  succession  over  the 
disc  of  the  moon,  while  a  fitlul  gust  of  wind 
swept  down  the  rocky  glens,  whistling  as  they 
passed  among  the  branches  of  the  scathed  pines 
which  were  thinly  scattered  in  that  wild  and 
desolate  region. 

He  had  not  waited  long  v/hen  he  heard  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  and  straining 
his  keen  sight  to  its  utmost  pov-'cr,  he  recogni- 
sed Besha,  who  came  not  alone,  but  accompa- 
nied by  another  man. 

Although  this  was  an  addition  to  the  corapa- 
ly  that  he  did  not  expect,  the  youth  came  fear- 
essly  forv/ard,  his  quick  apprehension  suggest- 
<ig  to  him  that  if  treachery  had  been  intended 
he  horse-dealer's  companion  would  have  been 
.joncealed.  After  exchanging  a  sign  of  recog- 
lition,  Wingenund  led  the  way  to  a  deep  recess 
which  he  had  noted  in  a  rock  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, where  they  collected  and  kindled  a  few 
6ticks  of  withered  juniper  and  sage,  which  sup- 
plied them  with  warmth  and  light  without  ren- 
dering the  place  of  their  colloquy  visible  from 
the  valley  below. 

By  the  light  of  the  fire  Wingenund  observed 
with  surprise  that  the  horse-dealer's  companion, 
a  lad  of  nearly  his  own  size  and  stature,  had  only 
one  eye,  the  cavity  of  the  other  being  covered 
with  a  patch  of  cloth ;  his  complexion  was  of  a 
hue  so  swarthy,  that  it  evidently  contained  an 
admixture  of  the  negro  race  and  his  hair, 
though  not  woolly,  was  coarse  long,  and  mat- 
ted, differing  entirely  in  its  texture  from  that  of 
.  the  tribes  of  purely  Indian  blood.  He  was 
wrapped  in  a  tattered  blanket,  and  stood  apart, 
Hkc  one  conscious  of  his  inferiority  of  station. 
To  acccunt  for  his  appearance,  without  enter- 
ing at  length  into  the  explanations  given  by 
the  horse-dea..er  to  W^^genund,  it  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  state  that  the  ratter  had  proposed  to  en- 
ter the  Crow  camp  in  a  femaTe  dress,  and  to  find 
an  opportunity,  as  an  inmate  of  his  lodge,  for 
coramunicatina;  with  Paul  Miiller  and  Ethelston. 

As  soon  as  Besha  once  made  up  his  mind  to 
forward  the  scheme,  he  resolved  to  do  so  with  as 
It.tle  risk  of  discovery  as  possible.  Happening 
tc  have  in  his  lodge  a  slave,  a  captive  taken  in  a 
horse-stealing  skirmish  among  the  Comanches, 
who  was  nearly  the  same  age  as  Wingenund, 
he  thought  that  the  youth  might  personate  him 
more  easily  than  he  could  imitate  the  gait  and 
Appearance  of  a  woman. 


Many  were  the  jokes  among  the  Crows  aboul 
the  one-eyed  Besha,  and  his  one-eyed  slave. 
The  latter  had  lost  his  eye  by  the  point  of  an  ar- 
row, in  the  same  skirmish  which  threw  him  into 
Besha's  power;  and  being  a  cunning  and  dex- 
terous lad,  he  soon  grew  into  favour  with  his 
new  master,  who  frequently  employed  him  as  a 
spy,  and  found  him  extremely  useful  in  stealicg, 
marking,  and  disguising  horses  for  him. 

Wingenund  saw  at  once  the  drift  of  Besha's 
project,  and  they  lost  no  time  in  carrying  it  into 
effect.  The  exchange  of  dress  was  made  in  a 
few  seconds,  and  the  horse-dealer  then  drew  from 
his  pouch  a  small  bladder  containing  ointment, 
with  which  he  stained  the  youth's  hands  and 
face,  fastening  at  the  same  time  a  patch  over  his 
left  eye.  Wingenund  then  desired  Besha  to  walk 
up  and  down,  and  speak  v/ith  the  lad,  that  he 
might  carefully  note  his  movements,  and  the  in- 
tonation of  his  voice.  This  observation  he  con- 
tinued for  some  time,  until  he  thought  himself 
tolerably  perfect  in  his  lesson.  There  remained, 
however,  one  point  on  which  he  still  felt  himself 
very  insecure  against  detection.  On  his  ex- 
plaining this  to  Besha,  the  latter  grinned,  and 
drawing  from  under  his  vest  a  head-dress  of 
false  hair,  ragged  and  matted  as  that  of  his  slave, 
he  placed  it  on  the  head  of  Wingenund.  The 
youth  felt  his  disguise  was  now  complete;  and 
retaining  his  own  knife  and  small  pistol  in  his 
belt,  threw  the  tattered  blanket  over  his  shoulder, 
and  prepared  to  accompany  Besha  to  his  lodge. 

The  latter  having  instructed  the  slave  to  keep 
himself  concealed  among  the  rocks  for  a  few 
days,  and  having  provided  him  with  a  smal.  bag 
of  provisions,  returned  slow!}' towards  the  Crow 
camp,  giving  to  his  young  companion  by  the 
way  such  hints  as  he  deemed  necessary  for  his 
safely.  Fortunately  for  Wingenund,  the  lad 
whom  he  personated  was  known  by  the  Crows 
to  be  ignorant  of  their  language,  so  there  was  no 
great  risk  of  his  being  betrayed  by  his  speech. 

As  they  picked  their  way  slowly  along  the  base 
of  the  rugged  hills  which  frowned  over  the  val- 
ley, they  came  to  a  spot  where  a  few  stunteu 
pines  threw  a  darker  shadow  across  their  path. 
To  one  of  these  was  attached  a  horse,  which 
Wingenund  unfastened  by  desire  of  Besha,  and 
led  it  after  him  by  the  halter. 

As  they  reached  the  outposts  of  the  camp  Be- 
sha was  addressed  by  several  of  the  sentries,  to 
whom  he  explained  his  night  expedition,  by  in-- 
forming  them  that  he  had  been  with  his  slave  to 
recover  a  horse  that  had  strayed.  They  were 
perfectly  satisfied  with  this  explanation,  it  being 
of  very  frequent  occurrence  that  both  master  and 
man  returned  by  day  and  by  night  with  horses 
that  they  had  "  recovered ;"  the  latter  word  being 
in  the  Crow  dialect  almost,  if  not  quite,  synony- 
mous with  "stolen." 

The  lodge  of  Besha  was  pitched  next  to  that 
of  White-Buir,  in  which  Ethelston  and  Paul 
Miiller  were  confined.  His  entrance  caused  no 
disturbance  among  its  slumbering  inmates;  and 
Wingenund,  fore-armed  with  the  requisite  local 
information,  tied  up  the  horse  beside  its  fellows; 
and  nestling  himself  into  his  allotted  corner,  laid 
himself  down  to  rest  as  composedly  as  if  he  had 
been  m  his  usual  quarters  in  the  outer  division 
of  his  sister's  tent. 

While  Wingenund  was  thus  carrying  his  proj- 
ect into  effect,  his  friends  fulfilled  the  intention 
they  had  formed  of  marching  further  mto  thf 
mountains. 

"Dear  Prairie- bird!"  said  PtCginald,  as  they 


168 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


walked  together  in  front  of  her  tent,  "  I  fear  3'ou 
must  be  much  fatigued  by  this  last  march.  I 
never  could  have  believed  that  a  horse,  bearing 
a  female  rider,  could  have  crossed  that  rocky 
pass  by  which  we  entered  this  valley." 

"  The  horse  deserves  more  praise  than  the  ri- 
der, Reginald ;  and  Nekimi  seemed  quite  aware 
that  his  master  attached  a  higher  price  to  his 
buithen  than  it  was  worth,  for  he  put  his  feet  so 
safely  and  gently  down,  that  I  need  not  have 
feared  his  slipping,  even  had  he  not  been  led  by 
one  yet  more  gentle  and  careful  than  himself." 

"  It  was,  however,  a  severe  trial.  Prairie-bird," 
replied  her  lover;  "  for  you  remember  thatLita's 
mule  stumbled,  and  nearly  fell  with  her  over  that 
fearful  precipice !  but  Nekimi  is  unmatched  for 
speed  and  sureness  of  foot,  and  is  of  so  generous 
and  affectionate  a  nature  that  I  love  him  more 
than  I  ever  thought  I  could  have  loved  a  quad- 
ruped. When  we  return  to  Mooshanne,  he  shall 
be  repaid  for  all  his  faithful  service;  warm  shall 
be  hi's  stable,  soft  his  litter,  and  his  beloved  mis- 
tress shall  sometimes  give  him  corn  with  her 
own  fair  hand,  in  remembrance  of  these  days  of 
hardships!'' 

At  the  mention  of  his  home,  the  cheek  of 
Prairie-bird  coloured  with  an  emotion  which 
that  subject  never  failed  to  excite.  Reginald  ob- 
served it,  and  said  to  her,  in  a  half-jesting  tone, 
"Confess  now,  dearest,  have  you  not  a  longing 
desire  to  see  that  home  of  which  I  have  so  often 
spoken  to  you  V 

"It  appears  to  me  so  like  a  dream,  that  I 
scarcely  dare  let  my  thoughts  dwell  upon  it! 
But  your  sister,  of  whom  Wingenund  told  me 
so  much,  I  hope  she  will  love  me  1" 

Reginald  bent  his  dark  eyes  upon  her  counte- 
nance with  an  expression  that  said,  as  plainly  as 
words  could  speak  it,  "  How  could  any  one  see 
tbee,  and  fail  to  love  thea!"  Then  turning  the 
conversation  to  Wingenund,  he  replied,  "Two 
days  have  now  elapsed  since  your  young  brother 
went  upon  his  dangerous  expedition ;  I  begin  to 
feel  most  anxious  for  his  safety." 

"  With  grief  I  saw  him  go,  for  even  if  he  suc- 
ceeds in  seeing  and  speaking  Avith  the  Black  Fa- 
ther, I  cannot  tell  what  advantage  will  come 
from  it." 

"  They  may  perhaps  devise  some  scheme  for 
escape,  and  will  at  all  events  be  comforted  by 
the  assurance  that  their  friends  are  near  and 
watchful.  Three  several  times  on  the  march 
hither  had  we  made  our  plans  for  attacking  the 
camp,  and  rescuing  them,  but  the  hateful  Mahe- 
ea.  was  always  on  his  guard,  and  had  posted 
himself  in  such  a  manner  that  we  could  not  ap- 
proach without  incurring  severe  loss.  War-Ea- 
gle has  himself  owned  that  the  Osage  has  con- 
ducted this  retreat  with  wonderful  skill.  What 
a  pity  that  so  great  a  villain  should  possess  such 
high  qualities!" 

"If  he  were  not  ir.  the  camp  of  the  Crows," 
said  Prairie-bird,  "  my  beloved  father,  and  your 
friend  would  have  been  set  free  long  ago;  cruel- 
ty and  revenge  are  his  pleasures,  and  his  hand  is 
ever  ready  to  shed  blood." 

"  He  will  doubtless  do  all  in  his  power  to  pre- 
vent their  liberation;   and  if  his  malignant  eye 
should  detect  the  presence  of  Wingenund,  he 
would  represent  the  brave  youth  as  a  spy,  and  ; 
urge  the  Crows  to  destroy  him,"  j 

"  I  trust  much  to  Wingenund's  skill,  but  more,  I 
oh!  how  much  more,  to  the  protection  of  Him, 
at  whose  word  the  strongest  bars  and  holts  are 
Droken,  and  the  fetters  of  iron  fall  from  the  limbs  ; 
of  tne  captive  I" 


"What  a  strength  and  support  must  it  be  to 
you,  dearest  Prairie-bird,  thus  habitually  to  look 
up  to  heaven  amid  all  the  trials  and  troubles  of 
earth!" 

"  How  would  it  be  possible  to  do  otherwise  1" 
she  replied,  looking  up  in  his  face  with  an  ex- 
pression of  innocent  surprise.  "Can  any  one 
look  upon  the  flowers  of  the  prairie,  the  beauiy 
of  the  swift  antelope,  the  shade  of  the  valleys, 
the  hills  and  snow-clad  mountains,  the  sun,  ihe 
moon,  and  the  thousand  thousand  worlds  above, 
and  yet  not  worship  Him  who  framed  them"?" 

"I  grant  you,  dearest,"  he  replied,  "that  no 
reasonable  being  could  consider  those  things 
without  experiencing  the  emotions  that  you  de 
scribe,  yet  many,  very  many,  will  not  consider 
them ;  still  fewer  are  there  who  refer  the  thoughts, 
actions,  and  events  of  daily  life  to  an  ever-pres- 
ent, overruling  Providence." 

"  Surely  they  can  never  have  read  this  book," 
she  said,  pointing  to  the  volume  which  was  hei 
constant  companion;  "or  they  must  feel  ever 
grateful  for  past  mercies,  present  benefits,  and 
the  blessed  promises  of  the  future  revealed  in  it !" 

For  a  moment  Reginald  cast  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  conscience  reminding  him  of  many  oc- 
casions on  which  he  had  been  led  by  temptation 
and  carelessness  to  wander  from  those  ordinaa- 
ces  and  precepts  of  religion  which  he  respected 
and  approved;  at  length  he  replied,  "True,  my 
beloved,  but  the  human  heart  is  a  treacherous 
guide,  and  often  betrays  into  errors  which  reason 
and  revelation  would  alike  condemn." 

"It  may  be  so  among  the  cities  and  crowded 
haunts  of  men,  of  vi'hich  I  know  nothing  beyond 
what  I  have  read,  and  what  the  Bla:-^i  Father 
has  taught  me ;  yet  I  cannot  understand  how  a 
loving  heart  can  be,  in  such  cases,  a  treacherous 
guide.  Is  it  not  sweet  to  serve  one  whom  we 
]o\-e  on  earth,  to  think  of  him,  to  bless  him,  to 
follow  where  he  points  the  way,  to  afford  him 
pleasure,  to  fulfil  his  wishes  even  before  they  are 
expressed!  If  such  feelings  be  sweet  and  natu- 
ral towards  one  frail  and  imperfect  as  ourselves, 
why  should  the  heart  refuse  to  entertain  them  to- 
wards the  one  perfect  Being,  our  ever-present 
Benefactor,  the  Fountain  of  Love  1" 

Again  Reginald  was  silent,  the  impassioned  el- 
oquence  of  her  eyes  told  him  how  her  heart  over- 
flowed with  feelings  but  faintly  shadowed  in  her 
simple  language;  and  he  desired  rather  to  shars 
than  to  shake  her  creed.  Why  should  he  tell  her. 
that  in  spite  of  all  the  incentives  of  hope  and 
gratitude,  in  spile  of  all  the  arguments  of  reason 
and  the  truths  of  revelation,  the  great  majority 
of  the  so-called  Christian  world  pursued  their 
daily  course  of  business  or  amusement  as  if  the 
present  were  the  substance  of  life,  and  Eternity 
a  dream  1  Reginald  felt  his  own  heart  softened, 
purified,  and  exalted  by  communion  with  the 

e  cares  and  troubles  ol 

at  some  future  time 
her  faith  was  built 
upon  a  Rock  that  would  not  be  shaken,  and  his 
spirit  already  sympathizing  with  hers,  experi- 
enced a  new  and  delightful  sensation  of  happiness. 

He  might  have  indulged  longer  in  this  blissful 
reverie,  had  not  his  ear"  caught  the  sound  of  an 
approaching  footstep;  he  turned  quickly,  and 
recognising  the  light  form  of  Wingenund,  ex- 
claimed, "See,  Prairie-bird,  our  dear  younj 
brother  safely  returned!  May  all  your  othej 
hopeful  anticipations  be  as  happily  realized' 
Speak,  Wingenund ;  let  us  .-iear  how  you  nav« 
sped  in  your  diflicult  and  dangerous  mission.'!" 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


169 


Instead  of  giving  the  yi  uth's  narrative  in  his 
own  words,  we  will  resume  the  thread  of  his  sto- 
ry where  we  left  it,  being  thus  enabled  to  relate 
various  particulars  which  his  modesty  induced 
him  to  omit. 

At  the  first  dawn  of  day  he  looked  round  the 
horse-dealer's  lodge,  and  made  a  survey  of  its  in- 
mates. In  the  centre  lay  Besha  himself,  and  by 
his  side  a  squaw  from  one  of  the  southern  tribes, 
who  had  been  the  companion  of  his  rambles  and 
expeditions  for  many  years.  Beyond  them  there 
slept,  or  seemed  to  sleep,  a  youth,  whose  appear- 
ance indicated  that  he  also  belonged  to  a  south- 
ern clime,  and  that  some  Mexican  blood  ran  in 
his  veins;  his  features  were  finely  formed,  his 
complexion  darker  than  that  of  a  northern  Indi- 
an, and  a  short  mustachio  began  to  shade  his 
upper  lip;  his  eyes  were  small,  but  piercing,  and 
black  as  jet,  and  scarcely  was  the  light  suflicient 
to  render  distinguishable  the  objects  in  the  lodge 
ere  his  quick  gaze  fell  upon  Wingenund,  with  an 
expression  that  convinced  the  latter  that  the  plot 
had  been  confided  to  him.  These  were  the  only 
inmates  of  the  lodge,  which  was  filled  with  vari- 
ous indications  of  its  owner's  success  in  trade, 
packages  and  bales  being  piled  therein  to  a  con- 
siderable height. 

Agreeably  to  the  plan  preconcerted  by  Besha, 
his  wife  invited  Bending-willow  to  come  to  her 
in  the  course  of  the  morning ;  and,  on  her  arri- 
val, set  before  her  some  cakes  of  mj.ize,  sweet- 
ened with  sugar, — a  luxury  equally  new  and 
agreeable  to  the  Upsaroka  bride.  Further  civil- 
ities beyond  those  interchangeable  by  signs  were 
precluded  between  them,  by  the  circumstance  of 
their  being  each  entirely  ignorant  of  the  other's 
language;  but  the  offering  of  a  string  of  blue 
beads  after  the  cakes  completed  the  triumph  of 
the  hostess  in  the  good  graces  of  her  guest. 

Besha  did  not  lose  this  favourable  opportuni- 
ty for  calling  the  attention  of  the  latter  to  the 
subject  of  the  prisoners,  in  whose  behalf  he  ex- 
pressed a  hope  that  she  would  use  her  best  ex- 
ertions. 

Bending-willow  smiled,  and  said  that  she  was 
a  woman,  and  had  no  power  in  the  council  of 
the  tribe. 

The  crafty  horse-dealer  saw  at  a  glance  how 
the  assertion  was  belied  by  the  smile,  and  re- 
plied, 

"  When  White-Bull  speaks,  the  braves  listen : 
when  Bending-willow  speaks,  does  not  White- 
Bull  listen  tool" 

The  Upsaroka  beauty  looked  down  and  count- 
ed the  beads  upon  her  new  bracelet,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  countenance  which  encouraged  Besha 
to  proceed.  "  These  white  men  are  of  no  use  in 
the  Upsaroka  camn:  they  eat  and  drink,  and  kill 
no  game,  it  they"  are  sent  back  to  their  own 
people,  the  lodge  of  White-Bull  will  be  full  of 
presents,  and  the  women  will  say,  '  Look  at 
Bending-willow;  she  i^dressed  like  the  wife  of 
a  great  chief!" 

By  these,  and  similar  arguments,  the  Crow 
bride  was  easily  induced  to  connive  at  the  plot 
laid  for  the  liberation  of  the  prisoners.  Being  a 
gocd-natured  creature,  and  feeling  that  the  kind- 
ness of  Prairie-bird  to  ner  had  been  ill-requited, 
she  was  the  more  willing  to  favour  the  white 
people,  and  only  held  Besha  to  the  promise  that 
in  contriving  their  escape  no  injury  should  be 
done  to  the  person  or  property  of  any  of  her 
tribe. 

With  the  assistance  of  Bending-willow,  Win- 
genuno  jauna  several  opportunities  of  conver- 


sing with  Ethelston  and  the  Black  Father;  bu» 
the  camp  was  so  strictly  guarded  that  they  could 
not  devise  any  plan  that  seemed  to  promise  sue 
cess,  while  a  failure  was  sure  to  bring  upon 
them  more  rigid  confinement,  if  not  a  severer 
and  more  summary  punishment.  Wingenund 
was  authorised  by  Besha  to  comfort  them  with 
the  assurance  that  they  had  a  true  friend  in 
White-Bull's  bride,  and  that  tliey  were  quite  safe 
from  the  malignant  designs  of  Mahega.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  horse-de&ler  positively  refused, 
under  present  circuraitances,  to  incur  the  risk  oi 
aiding  their  escape  while  the  position  of  the 
camp  was  so  unfavourable  for  it,  and  the  Crow 
sentries  were  kept  so  much  on  the  alert  by  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  War-Eagle's  party. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  youth  had 
slipped  away  by  night  to  consult  with  his  friends 
whether  the  liberation  of  the  prisoners  should  be 
attempted  by  force,  or  whether  it  might  not  be 
more  advisable  to  throw  the  Crows  off  their 
guard  by  discontinuing  the  pursuit,  and  leaving 
it  to  the  ingenuity  of  Wingenund  to  devise  a  plaa 
for  their  escape. 

These  two  alternatives  having  been  duly  dis- 
cussed in  council,  it  was  almost  unanimously 
agreed  to  adopt  the  latter;  and  Wingenund  pre- 
pared again  to  return  to  his  perilous  post,  hav- 
ing received  from  War-Eagle,  Reginald,  and 
Prairie-bird  the  praises  which  his  skill  and  en- 
terprise had  so  well  deserved. 

He  did  not  forget  to  take  with  him  a  small 
supply  of  beads  and  trinkets,  which  he  conceal- 
ed in  his  belt,  and  which  were  destined  to  se- 
cure the  continued  favour  of  Bending-willov. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  War-Eagle  propo- 
sed that  the  party  should  quit  their  present  sta- 
tion in  search  of  one  where  they  might  be  more 
likely  to  fall  in  with  deer  and  bison,  as  meat 
was  becoming  very  scarce  in  the  camp ;  and  a 
scout,  sent  out  on  the  preceding  day,  had  return- 
ed with  a  report  that  he  had  Ibund,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  half  a  day's  march,  a  large  and  fertile 
valley,  watered  by  a  fine  stream,  and  abounding 
in  materials  for  fuel.  This  last  consideration 
was  of  itself  highly  important,  for  the  Crows 
had  gathered  every  dry  bush  and  stick  from  the 
barren  glen  in  which  they  were  now  encamped ; 
and  the  utmost  exertions  of  the  indefatigable 
Perrot  scarcely  enabled  him  to  provide  a  suf- 
ficiency for  cooking  the  necessary  provisions; 
while  the  coldness  of  the  atmosphere,  especially 
at  night,  rendered  the  absence  of  fire  a  privation 
more  than  ordinarily  severe. 

The  counsel  of  War-Eagle  was  therefore 
adopted  without  delay,  it  having  been  agreed 
that  two  of  the  most  experienced  men,  the  one  a 
Delaware  and  the  other  a  white  hunter,  should 
hover  around  the  Crow  camp,  and  communi- 
cate to  the  main  body,  from  time  to  time,  their 
movements  and  proceedings. 

Having  been  supplied  with  an  extra  blanket, 
and  a  few  pounds  of  dried  meat  and  parched 
corn,  these  two  hardy  fellows  saw  their  com- 
rades depart  without  the  least  apparent  concern, 
and  soon  afterwards  withdrew  to  a  sheltered  and 
more  elevated  spot,  whence  they  could,  without 
being  perceived,  command  a  distant  view  of  the 
Crow  camp. 

Following  the  steps  of  the  scouts,  War-Eagle 
led  his  party  to  a  part  of  the  valley  where  a 
huge  rent  or  fissure  in  the  side  of  the  mountain 
rendered  the  ascent  practicable  for  the  hoises. 
It  was,  however,  a  wild  and  rugged  scene,  and 
a  fitting  entrance  to  tne  vast  pile  of  mc-untains, 


170 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


that  showed  their  towering  peaks  far  to  the 
westward. 

Prairie-bird  was  mounted  upon  Nekimi,  and 
Reginald  walked  hy  her  side,  his  hand  ever 
leaJy  to  aid  and  guide  him  among  the  huge 
stones,  which  in  some  places  obstructed  the 
path. 

Never  had  velvet  lawn,  or  flower-embroidered 
vale,  seemed  to  our  hero  half  so  smooth  and 
pleasant  as  did  that  rocky  pass.  At  every  turn 
some  new  feature  of  f;randeur  arrested  the  at- 
tention of  Prairie-bird,  who  expressed  her  admi- 
ration in  language  which  was  a  strange  mixture 
of  natural  eloquence  and  poetry',  and  which 
sounded  to  his  ears  more  musical  than  "  Apol- 
lo's lute." 

What  struck  him  as  most  remarkable  was, 
that,  whether  in  speaking  of  the  magnificent 
scenery  around,  or  of  the  more  minute  objects 
which  fell  under  her  observation,  her  spirit  was 
so  imbued  with  Scripture,  that  she  constantly 
clothed  her  ideas  in  its  phraseology,  without  be- 
ing conscious  of  so  doing. 

"Thus,  when  in  crossing  the  valley  they  pass- 
ed by  some  ant-hills,  and,  in  ascending  the  op- 
posite height,  saw  here  and  there  a  mountain- 
rabbit  nibbling  the  short  moss  that  overspread 
the  bed  of  rock,  Reginald  directed  her  attention 
to  them,  saying,  "  See,  Prairie-bird,  even  in  this 
desolate  wilderness  these  insect-millions  have 
built  them  a  city,  and  the  rabbit  skips  and  feasts 
as  merrily  as  in  more  fertile  regions." 

"  True,  dear  Reginald,"  she  replied,  "  there- 
fore did  the  wise  man  say  in  days  of  old,  '  The 
ants  are  a  people  not  strong,  yet  they  prepare 
their  meat  in  the  summer:  the  conies  are  but  a 
feeble  folk,  yet  make  they  their  houses  in  the 
rocks.' " 

A  little  further  onward,  the  pass  was  over- 
hung by  an  enormous  cliff,  from  the  top  of 
which  a  bighorn  looked  down  upon  the  party 
below,  the  long  beard  of  the  mountain-goat 
streaming  in  the  wind.  One  of  the  hunters  fired 
at  it,  but  the  harmless  bullet  glanced  from  the 
face  of  the  cliff,  while  amid  the  echoes  repeated 
and  prolonged  by  the  surrounding  heights,  the 
bighorn  sprang  from  rock  to  rock  across  the 
yawning  chasms  by  which  they  were  divided, 
as  lightly  as  the  forest  squirrel  leaps  from  a 
branch  of  the  spreading  oak  to  that  of  the  neigh- 
bouring elm. 

Reginald  watched  the  animal's  progress,  and 
called  tne  attention  of  Prairie-bird  to  the  surpri- 
sing swiftness  and  activity  with  which  it  held 
on  its  perilous  course. 

"When  at  length  it  disappeared  oenir^d  the  an- 
gle of  an  abrupt  precipice,  she  said,  "  Does  it 
not  call  to  your  mind  the  description  given  of 
the  wild-ass  of  the  East,  in  the  Book  of  Job, 
'Who  hath  sent  out  the  wild-ass  freel  or  who 
nath  loosened  the  band  of  the  wild-ass  1  whose 
house  I  have  made  the  wilderness,  and  the  bar- 
ren land  his  dwelling  1  He  scorneih  the  multi- 
tude of  the  city,  neither  regardeth  he  the  crying 
of  the  driver.  The  range  of  the  mountains  is 
his  pasture,  and  he  searcheth  after  every  green 
thing.'  Tell  me,  Reginald,"  continued  the 
maiden,  after  a  momentary  pause,  "can  the 
creature  here  described  be  the  same  dull  patient 
animal  that  I  have  often  seen  bearing  the  packs 
«i  the  Mexican  traders'?" 

"  The  same,  I  believe,  dearest,  in  its  origin, 

nd  its  place  in  natural  history,  hut  widely  dif- 

(^" »  'ij  its  habits  and  }»wers,  if  we  may  credit 

^  *  '"Stives  of  travellers,  whether  modem  or 


.ancient.  I  remember  reading  a  most  spirited 
description  of  this  same  aniraa  in  the  account 
given  by  the  eminent  historian*  of  the  expedi- 
tion of  the  younger  Cyrus,  who  relates  that  the 
herds  of  them  found  near  the  banks  of  the  Eu- 
phrates surpassed  the  swiftest  horses  in  speed, 
and  were  neither  to  be  tamed  nor  approached 
without  the  greatest  ditficulty ;  and  in  later 
times  they  have  been  described  as  abounding  in 
the  wildest  regions  of  Persia  and  Tartary,  where 
their  flesh  is  considered  one  of  the  greatest  del 
icacies  at  the  table  of  the  hunter,  and  even  at 
that  of  the  prince.  In  order  to  distinguish  this 
animal  from  its  humble  and  degraded  kindred 
in  the  West,  it  has  been  dignified  by  the  name 
of  the  Onager." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a 
sudden  halt  in  the  line  of  march,  and  Reginald 
heard  the  sound  of  numerous  voices  towards  the 
front  as  of  men  speaking  under  surprise  and  ex- 
citement. When  he  advanced,  with  Prairie- 
bird  at  his  side,  they  made  way  for  him  to  pass 
until  he  reached  the  front,  where  he  found  War- 
Eagle  holding  by  a  leathern  thong  the  most  sin- 
gular-looking creature  that  he  had  ever  beheld. 
It  bore  in  some  respects  the  semblance  of  a  hu- 
man being,  but  the  extreme  lowness  of  its  stat- 
ure, the  matted  hair  by  which  it  was  covered; 
the  length  of  the  finger  nails,  and  the  smallness 
of  the  deep-set  eyes  made  it  almost  a  matter  of 
doubt  whether  it  did  not  rather  belong  to  the 
monkey  tribe. 

This  was,  however,  soon  dispelled  by  Pierre, 
Avho  recognised  in  the  diminutive  and  terrified 
creature  one  of  the  race  known  to  mountain- 
hunters  under  the  name  of  Root-diggers.  They 
are  the  most  abject  and  wretched  of  all  the  In- 
dian tribes,  living  in  caves  and  holes,  and  sup- 
porting their  miserable  existence  upon  such  an- 
imals as  they  can  catch,  in  toils  of  the  simplest 
kind,  and  by  grubbing  and  digj.ing  for  roots 
such  as  no  other  human  being  cuuld  eat  or  di- 
gest. The  one  now  taken  by  the  Delawares 
had  been  engaged  in  the  latter  occupation  when 
he  first  saw  them  approach,  and  he  fled  imme- 
diately towards  the  rocks.  Had  he  been  fol- 
lowed by  an  eye  less  sure,  and  a  fool  less  fleet 
than  that  of  War-Eagle,  he  might  have  escaped, 
for,  despite  his  uncouth  appearance,  he  was  nim- 
ble PS  a  mountain-cat,  but  the  Delaware  chief 
overlook  and  secured  him;  and  in  spite  of  all 
the  endeavours  made  to  reassure  him,  the  unfor- 
tunate Root-digger  now  looked  about  him  as  if 
he  expected  every  moment  to  be  his  last.  Bead.s, 
trinkets,  and  shreds  of  bright-coloured  cloth 
were  all  held  up  to  him  in  turn,  but  were  left 
unnoticed,  and  his  deep  twinkling  eyes  roved  in- 
cessantly from  one  to  another  of  the  bystanders 
wiih  an  expression  cf  the  most  intense  alarm. 

"Are  they  always  thus  fearlui  ana  intracta- 
ble 1"  inquired  Reginald  of  the  Canadian  hunter. 

"  Not  always,"  repliedPierre ;  "  but  the  Crows, 
and  Black-feer,  and  wlnte  men  too,  generally 
neat  them  worse  than  dogs  whenever  they  find 
them;  that  is  not  often,  "for  they  always  hide 
rmong  rocks  and  stones,  and  seldom  come  down 
so  low  in  the  valleys.  I  never  saw  one  in  this 
legion  before." 

"Prairie-bird,"  said  Reginald,  in  a  whisp;rto 
the  maiden,  "speak  to  the  poor  creatuie  a  few 
words  of  comfort.  Were  he  shy,  suspicious,  and 
wild  as  a  wolf,  that  voice  would  subdue  and  dis- 
pel his  apprehensions." 

*  Xenophon 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


171 


''  I'he  sweetness  of  the  voice  lies  in  the  hear- 
er's partial  ear,"  replied  Prairie-bird,  blushing 
deeply;  "but  1  will  do  your  bidding  to  the  best 
of  my  power;  and  if  I  mistake  not  the  poor  crea- 
ture's symptoms,  I  think  1,  can  find  a  means  to 
relieve  them." 

So  saying,  and  leaping  lightly  from  her  horse, 
the  maiden  took  from  one  of  the  packs  a  piece  of 
baked  maize-cake,  and  a  slice  of  dried  bison-meat. 
Carrying  these  in  her  hand,  she  approached  the 
Root-digger,  and  motioning  to  the  bystanders  to 
retire  to  some  distance,  she  deliberately  untied 
the  thong  by  which  he  had  been  fastened,  and 
placing  the  itbod  before  him,  made  signs  that  he 
should  eat.  At  first  the  uncouth  being  gazed 
upon  her  as  if  he  could  or  would  not  understand 
her  meaning;  but  she  spoke  to  him  in  the  soft 
Delaware  tongue,  and  eating  a  morsel  of  the 
cake,  repeated  the  signal  that  he  should  eat  with 
her.  Whether  overcome  by  the  gentleness  of 
her  manner,  or  by  the  cravings  of  hunger,  the 
savage  no  longer  resisted,  but  devoured  with 
ravenous  haste  the  food  which  .she  had  set  be- 
fore him.  Prairie-bird  smiled  at  the  success  of 
her  attempt,  which  so  far  encouraged  her,  that 
she  again  offered  the  several  presents  which  he 
had  before  rejected,  and  which  he  now  accepted, 
turning  thera  over  and  over  in  his  hand,  and  in- 
specting them  with  childish  curiosity. 

Reginald  looked  on  with  gratified  pride,  say- 
ing within  himself,  "I  knew  that  nothing  could 
resist  the  winning  tones  of  that  voice! 

'  Since  naught  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage, 
But  musie  for  the  time  doth  change  his  nature  ;' 

and  where  is  there  music  like  the  voice  of  Prai- 
rie-bird 1" 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

The  Root-digger  makes  Friends  with  the  Party.— An  Ad- 
venture with  a  grizzly  Bear.— The  Conduct  of  War-Eagle. 

No  sooner  had  Prairie-bird  gained  the  confi- 
dence of  the  Root-digger,  than  War-Eagle,  Regi- 
nald, and  the  other  chief  hunters,  approached  him 
with  signs  of  amity  and  friendship ;  nevertheless, 
he  continued  shy  and  suspicious,  still  refusing  to 
receive  either  food  or  present  from  any  hand  ex- 
cepting that  of  the  maiden.  They  were  obliged, 
therefore,  to  make  her  their  interpreter,  and  to 
endeavour,  through  her,  to  acquire  the  informa- 
tion of  which  they  were  in  want  respecting  the 
scarcity  or  abundance  of  deer  and  bison  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

In  the  discharge  of  this  office.  Prairie-bird  dis- 
covered so  much  natural  quickness,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  complete  a  knowledge  of  the  In- 
dian language  of  signs,  that  Reginald  looked  on 
with  the  most  intense  interest  while  the  maiden, 
whose  beauty  was  so  strongly  contrasted  with 
the  hideous  face  and  figure  of  the  mountain  dwarf, 
maintained  with  him  a  conversation  of  some 
length,  in  the  course  of  which  she  learned  that 
there  were  few,  if  any  bison  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, but  that  the  argali,  or  mountain  sheep,  and 
deer  of  several  kinds,  were  to  be  found  at  no 
great  distance.  She  succeeded  also,  at  length, 
in  so  far  disarming  his  suspicions,  that  he  agreed 
to  act  as  guide  to  Baptiste  and  Reginald  in  pur- 
suit of  game,  and  to  return  with  them  to  reap  the 
reward  oi'  his  trouble  in  further  presents  from  the 
hand  of  Prairie-bird. 

The  sturdy  back-woodsman  did  not  seem  to 
place  much  confidence  in  the  fidelity  of  his  new 


acquaintance,  and  bluntly  observed  to  Pierre, 
"  For  sure,  I  never  saw  an  uglier  crittur,  and  his 
eyes  roll  from  side  to  side  with  an  underlook  that 
I  don't  half  like ;  perhaps  he'll  lead  us  into  some 
ambush  of  Upsarokas,  or  other  mountain  In- 
gians,  rather  than  to  a  herd  of  deer." 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  Baptiste,"  replied 
his  brother  hunter,  laughing;  "these  poor  Root- 
diggers  are  harmless  and  honest  in  their  own 
miserable  way.  They  are  said  to  belong  to  the 
Shosbonies,  or  Snake-tribe,  and  are  the  best  of 
all  the  Ingians  hereabouts;  not  such  fighting 
devils  as  the  Black-feet,  nor  such  thieves  as  the 
Crows,  but  friendly  to  the  Whites.  This  poor 
crittur  has  been  digging  for  roots  many  a  long 
day  with  that  sharpened  flint,  which  you  see  in 
his  hand.  After  you  have  started  on  your  hunt- 
ing trip,  make  him  a  present  of  a  good  knife.  I 
have  watched  his  eyes  roving  from  belt  to  belt; 
he  would  give  his  ears  for  one,  and  yet  is  too 
frightened  to  ask  for  it." 

"  Thanks  for  the  hint,  Pierre,"  said  his  com- 
panion, looking  carefully  to  the  priming  of  his 
rifle ;  "  thanks  for  the  hint.  I  will  carry  a  spare 
one  with  me  on  purpose;  and  in  case  we  should 
fall  in  with  a  fat  herd,  do  you,  friend  War-Ea- 
gle, give  us  the  company  of  one  of  your  stoutest 
men,  that  he  may  assist  in  bringing  in  enough 
meat  for  the  party." 

On  hearing  these  words,  Prairie-bird  inquired 
of  the  Root-digger,  by  signs,  whether  one  of  the 
mules  could  not  go  over  the  hunting-ground. 
The  savage  looked  first  at  the  animal,  then  at 
the  fair  speaker,  and  then,  with  a  grin,  gave  a 
most  decided  indication  of  a  negative. 

The  preparations  for  the  hunt  were  soon  made. 
Prairie-bird  urged  Reginald,  in  a  low  voice,  not 
to  remain  too  long  absent,  a  command  which  he 
faithfully  promised  to  obey;  and  just  as  he  was 
about  to  set  forth,  he  led  her  up  to  the  chief,  and 
said,  "War-Eagle  will  take  care  of  his  sisterl" 

The  Indian's  proud  heart  was  gratified  by  this 
simple  proof  of  his  friend's  unbounded  confi- 
dence; he  saw  that  no  jealousy,  no  doubt  of  his 
victory  over  self,  lurked  in  the  breast  of  Regi- 
nald, and  he  replied,  "While  War-Eagle  has 
life  to  protect  her,  Olitipa  shall  be  safe  as  in  the 
lodge  of  Tamenund." 

Reginald  turned  and  followed  Baptiste  and  the 
Root-digger,  who  had  already  taken  their  way 
up  the  valley,  accompanied  by  the  Delaware  se- 
lected to  aid  in  carrying  home  the  anticipated 
booty. 

Leaving  them  to  toil  up  one  rocky  steep  after 
another,  wondering  at  the  enduring  agility  of 
the  Shoshonie  dwarf,  who  seemed  almost  as  ac- 
tive and  sure-footed  as  one  of  the  mountain-goats 
of  which  they  were  in  search,  we  will  return  te 
the  valley  where  War-Eagle's  camp  was  posted, 
which  formed,  as  we  have  before  noticed,  a 
pleasing  contrast  to  the  savage  scenery  around 
The  stream  that  flowed  through  its  centre  fresh 
from  the  snowy  bosom  of  the  mountain,  was 
cool  and  clear  as  crystal,  and  the  shade  of  tht 
trees  which  grew  along  its  banks  was  delightful- 
ly refreshing  after  the  fatigues  of  a  summei 
march,  even  in  a  region  the  elevation  of  which 
rendered  the  atmosphere  extremely  cold  before 
the  rising  and  after  the  setting  of  the  sun.  Prai- 
rie-bird felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  stroll  by  the 
banks  of  this  stream, — a  desire  that  was  no  soon- 
er mentioned  by  Lita  to  War-Eagle  than  he  at 
once  assented,  assuring  her  that  she  might  do  so- 
in  safety,  as  his  scouts  were  on  the  look-out  both 
above  and  below  in  the  valley,  so  that  no  enemy 


172 


THti    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


could  approach  unperceivcd.  At  the  same  time 
he  gave  inslractious  in  the  camp  that  none  of 
the  men  should  wander  to  that  quarter,  in  order 
that  it  might  be  left  aliogetiier  undisturbed. 

Shortly  ai'terwards  Prairie-bird  set  forth,  ta- 
king in  her  hand  a  moccasin,  which  she  was  or- 
namenting with  stained  quills  lor  the  loot  ol' Re- 
ginald, and  accompanied  by  her  faithful  Lita, 
who  bore  upon  her  head  a  bundle  containing  va- 
rious articles  belonging  to  her  mistress  and  to 
herself,  on  which  she  was  about  to  exercise  her 
talents  as  a  laundress. 

They  had  pursued  their  respective  avocations 
for  several  hours  without  interruption,  when  on 
a  sudden  they  heard  the  report  of  a  rifle  and  the 
voice  of  a  man  shouting,  as  if  engaged  in  the 
pursuit  of  game.  This  was  an  occurrence  to 
which  both  were  so  much  accustomed,  that  they 
paid  at  first  liule  attention  to  it;  but  they  lelt 
some  alarm  when  they  saw  one  of  their  party,  a 
white  hunter,  coming  towards  them  as  if  running 
for  his  lile.  Before  reaching  the  spot  where 
they  were  seated,  he  threw  his  rifle  upon  the 
ground,  and  climbed  into  a  tree ;  immediately 
afterwards  a  young  male,  not  full  grown,  of  the 
species  called  the  grizzly  or  rocky  mountain 
bear  came  up,  limping  as  if  wounded  by  the  rifle 
so  lately  discharged,  and  missing  the  object  that 
he  had  been  following,  looked  around  him,  howl- 
ing with  mingled  rage  and  pain.  At  length  he 
caught  sight  of  Prairie-bird  and  her  companion ; 
and  setting  up  a  more  loud  and  angry  howl,  trotted 
towards  them.  Unfortunately,  the  spot  to  which 
they  had  retired  was  a  narrow  strip  of  wooded 
ground,  projecting  into  a  curve  of  the  stream 
above-mentioned,  and  they  could  not  retreat  to- 
wards the  camp  without  approaching  yet  nearer 
to  the  wounded  bear.  There  was  no  time  for 
reflection;  and  in  the  sudden  emergency.  Prai- 
rie-bird hesitated  whether  she  should  not  adopt 
the  desperate  alternative  of  throwing  herself  into 
the  water,  in  hopes  that  the  stream  might  carry 
her  out  of  the  reach  of  danger. 

At  this  crisis  the  crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard, 
and  the  young  bear  fell,  but  again  rose  and  strug- 
gled forward,  as  if  determined  not  to  be  disap- 
pointed of  its  prey.  Seeing  the  imminent  dan- 
ger of  the  woman,  the  hunter  who  had  climbed 
the  tree  dropped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  catch- 
ing up  his  rifle,  attacked  the  half-exhausted  an- 
imal, which  still  retained  sufficient  strength  to 
render  too  near  an  approach  extremely  danger- 
ous. War-Eagle,  for  he  it  was  who  had  fired 
the  last  opportune  shot,  now  sprang  forward  from 
the  bushes,  reloading  his  rifle  as  he  came,  in  or- 
der to  decide  the  issue  of  the  conflict.  When  a 
loud  shriek  from  Lita  reached  his  ear;  and  on 
turning  round  he  beheld  the  dam  of  the  wound- 
ed cub,  a  she-bear  of  enormous  bulk,  trotting 
rapidly  forward  to  the  scene  of  action ;  the  hunt- 
er was  so  much  engaged  in  dealing  blow  after 
blow  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle,  that  he  had  no- 
ticed neither  her  approach  nor  the  warning  shout 
of  War-Eagle,  when  one  stroke  from  her  terrible 
paw  struck  him  bleeding  and  senseless  to  the 
ground.  For  an  instant  she  smelt  and  moaned 
over  her  dying  oflTspring;  then,  as  if  attracted  by 
the  female  dress,  pursued  her  way  with  redoub- 
lea  speed  and  fury  towards  the  spot  where  Lita 
clung,  with  speechless  terror,  to  the  arm  of  her 
mistress.  The  latter,  although  fully  alive  to  the 
imminency  of  the  peril,  lost  not  her  composure 
at  this  trying  moment.  Breathing  a  shorfpray-  I 
er  to  Heaven  for  support  and  protection,  she  fix-  j 
<ci  iier  eyes  upou  War-Eagie,  as  if  conscious  j 


that  the  only  human  possibility  of  safety  not* 
lay  in  his  courage  and  devotion. 

Then  it  was  that  the  Indian  chief  evinced  the 
high  and  heroic  properties  of  his  character;  lor 
although  every  second  brought  the  infuriated 
brute  near  and  more  near  to  her  who  had  been 
from  youth  his  heart's  dearest  treasure,  he  con- 
tinued, as  he  advanced,  to  load  the  rifle  with  a 
hand  as  steady  as  if  he  had  been  about  to  prac- 
tise at  a  target;  and  just  as  the  ball  was  rammed 
home,  and  the  priming  carefully  placed  in  the 
pan,  he  threw  himself  directly  in  front  of  the 
bear,  so  that  it  was  only  by  first  destroying  him 
that  she  could  possibly  approach  the  objects  of 
his  care.  It  was  a  moment,  and  but  a  moment, 
of  dreadful  suspense,  for  the  bear  swerved  nei- 
ther to  the  right  nor  to  the  left  from  her  onward 
path,  and  it  was  not  until  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle 
was  T/ithin  three  yards  of  her  forehead  that  he 
fired,  taking  his  aim  between  her  eyes;  shaking 
her  head  as  if  more  angered  than  hurt,  .she  raised 
her  huge  form  on  her  hind  legs,  and  advanced 
to  seize  him,  v/hen  he  drew  his  pistol  and  dis- 
charged it  into  her  chest,  springing  at  the  same 
time  lightly  back,  almost  to  the  spot  to  which 
Prairie-bird  and  her  trembling  companion  seem- 
ed rooted  as  if  by  a  spell.  Although  both  shots 
had  struck  where  they  were  aimed,  the  second  ap- 
peared to  have  taken  no  more  efiect  than  the  first, 
and  the  bear  was  again  advancing  to  the  attack, 
when  War-Eagle,  catching  up  from  the  ground 
a  blanket  which  Lita  had  brought  down  to  the 
brook,  held  it  extended  before  him  until  the  mon- 
ster sprung  against  it,  and  with  her  claws  rent  it 
into  shreds;  not,  however,  before  it  had  served 
for  an  instant  the  purpose  of  a  veil ;  profiting  by 
that  opportunity,  the  heroic  Delaware  da.shed  in 
between  her  fore-paws  and  plunged  his  ong 
knife  into  her  breast.  Short,  though  tenible, 
was  the  struggle  that  ensued ;  the  bear  ^yas  ev- 
ery moment  growing  weaker  from  the  effect  of 
the  shot-wounds,  and  from  loss  of  blood,  and  al- 
though she  lacerated  him  dreadfully  with  hsr 
claws  and  teeth,  she  was  not  able  to  make  him 
relax  the  determined  grasp  with  which  he  clung 
to  her,  plunging  the  fatal  knife  again  and  agairi 
into  her  body,  until  at  length  she  fell  exhausted 
and  expiring  into  a  pool  of  her  own  blood,  while 
the  triumphant  war-cry  of  the  Delaware  rung 
aloud  through  wood  and  vale.* 
Alarmed  by  the  shots,  the  yells  of  the  dying 


*  To  some  who  have  read  the  descriptions  of  bear-hunts 
in  Norway  and  Russia  it  may  appear  neither  wonderful  nor 
unusual  that  a  single  hunter  should  kiU  a  full-grown  bear  ; 
but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the  bear  of  the  north  of 
Europe  bears  almut  the  same  proportion  to  a  grizzly  bear 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ( Ursus  Horrihilis)  as  a  panther 
does  to  a  Bengal  tiger.  The  grizzly  bear  is  not  only  the 
largest  and  most  ferocious  of  his  species,  liut  his  tenacity 
of  life  is  so  remarkable  that  he  freiiuently  runs  a  consider 
al)le  distance  and  survives  some  hours  after  receiving  sev 
era!  balis  through  the  lungs,  head,  and  heart.  On  this  ac 
count  it  is  never  safe  for  the  most  e.xperienced  marksman 
to  attack  him  alone,  unless  there  be  some  trse  or  pl.-ice  of 
safety  at  hand,  for  the  grizzly  bear  cannot  or  will  not  climb 
a  tree  ;  and  some  idea  of  the  animal's  strength  may  bo 
formed  from  the  fact,  attested  by  many  credible  witnesses, 
that,  after  killing  a  tjison,  he  will  frequently  drag  the  car- 
case some  distance  to  his  lair.  For  descriptions  and  anec- 
dotes of  the  grizzly  bear  see  Lewis  and  Clarke's  Expedition 
to  the  Rocky  iVIountains,  and  Major  Long's  ditto.  A  feat 
almost  similar  to  that  recorded  in  the  text  was  perfonned 
some  years  ago  by  an  Iroquois,  one  of  the  last  of  his  tribe, 
and  who,  though  grievously  wounded,  survived.  The 
autlior  saw  this  Indian  hero  arrive  at  St.  Louis  in  a  canoe, 
containing  only  himself  and  a  boy,  they  having  descended 
the  .Missouri  for  more  than  1500  miles  in  their  frail  bark, 
and  having  passed  in  their  perilous  voyage  the  villages  of 
Crows,  Riccarees,  Sioux,  Black-feet,  and  ether  pred8»<»ni 
triDcs. 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


17S 


bear,  and  the  shouts  of  the  chief,  several  of  the 
party  now  hastened  towards  the  scene  of  action; 
but  before  they  could  reach  it  Reginald  Brandon, 
who  was  just  returning  into  caup  with  the  re- 
sults of  a  successful  chace,  caught  the  mingled 
sounds,  and  outstripping  all  his  eompanions,  ar- 
rived, panting  and  breathless,  on  the  spot.  For 
a  moment  he  gazed  on  the  strange  and  fearful 
spectacle  that  met  his  view.  The  Delaware 
chief,  supporting  his  head  upon  his  hand,  still 
reclined  against  the  body  of  his  grim  antagonist, 
his  countenance  calm  in  its  expression,  but  both 
his  face  and  his  whole  form  covered  with  recent 
blood;  at  his  feet  lay  Lita,  perfectly  uncon- 
scious, and  sprinkled  with  the  same  crimson 
stream ;  while  at  his  side  knelt  Prairie-bird, 
breathing  over  her  heroic  preserver  the  fervent 
outpourings  of  a  grateful  heart !  Another  mo- 
ment, and  Reginald  was  beside  her;  he  under- 
stood instinctively  all  that  had  passed,  and  no 
sooner  had  ascertained  that  his  betrothed  was 
safe  and  unhurt,  than  he  turned  with  affectionate 
and  anxious  solicitude  to  inquire  into  the  condi- 
tion of  his  friend.  "  Olitipa  is  safe  and  War- 
Eagle  is  happy,"  replied  the  chief. 

By  this  »ime  the  Delaware!  were  all  gathered 
round  their  beloved  leader,  and  in  obedience  to 
an  order  which  he  gave  in  a  low  voice,  one  of 
them  threw  a  blanket  over  his  torn  and  blood- 
stained dress,  while  another  brought  from  the 
sjream  a  bowl  of  fresh  water,  which  Prairie- 
bi|^  took  from  the  messenger,  and  held  to  his 
parched  lips ;  then,  wetting  a  clcth,  she  washed 
the  blood  Irom  his  face,  cooled  his  hot  brow,  and 
inquired,  in  a  tone  of  sisterly  affection,  whether 
he  found  himself  recruited  and  refreshed. 

"  The  hand  of  Olitipa  is  medicitic  against  pain, 
and  her  voice  brings  comfort !"  replied  the  chief, 
gently.    "War-Eagle  is  quite  happy." 

Not  so  were  those  around  him.  His  stern 
warriors  stood  in  sad  unbroken  silence;  the  fea- 
tures of  the  hardy  guide  worked  with  an  emo- 
tion that  he  strove  in  vain  to  conceal,  for  he 
knew  that  the  Delaware  would  not  have  retain- 
ed his  sitting  posture  by  the  carcase  of  the  bear, 
had  not  his  wounds  been  grievous  and  disabling ; 
Reginald  Brandon  held  the  hand  of  his  friend, 
unable  to  speak,  save  a  few  broken  words  of  af- 
fection and  gratitude:  while  Prairie-bird  found 
at  length  relief  for  her  oppressed  heart  in  a  flood 
of  tears.  So  much  engrossed  were  they  all  by 
their  own  feelings,  that  none  seemed  to  notice 
the  anguish  of  Lita,  who  still  lay  in  a  pool  of 
blood  at  the  feet  of  him  whom  she  had  long  and 
secretly  loved,  giving  no  further  signs  of  life  than 
a  succession  of  smothered  wailings  and  groans 
that  escaped  from  her  unconscious  lips. 

The  only  countenance  among  those  present  that 
retained  its  unmoved  composure  was  that  of  the 
Chief  himself;  and  a  bright  ray  shot  from  his 
dark  eye  when  one  of  the  bravest  of  his  warriors 
laid  down  before  him  the  claws  of  the  huge  bear 
and  her  cub,  which  he  had  cut  off,  according  to 
«ustom,  and  now  presented  as  a  trophy  of  victory. 

Baptiste  and  Pierre  having^onferred  together 
for  a  few  minutes,  the  former"  whispered  to  Re- 
ginald Brandon  that  Prairie-bird  and  Lita  should 
be  withdrawn  for  a  short  time,  while  War-Ea- 
gle's wounds  were  examined,  and  his  real  con- 
dition ascertained.  Agreeably  to  this  sugges- 
tion, Reginald  led  his  betrothed  weeping  from 
the  spot.  Some  of  the  Delawares  and  hunters 
removed  Lita;  but  not  without  diflSculty,  as  she 
still  clung. with  frantic  energy  to  the  torn  gar- 
ments of  the  Chief;  and,  as  ihey  bore  her  away, 


they  now  tor  the  first  time  observed  that  she  haC 
received  some  severe  scratches  in  her  fruitless 
endeavour  to  rescue  him  from  the  struggles  of 
the  dying  bear. 

When  all  had  retired  to  some  distance,  and 
there  remained  only  by  the  Delaware  the  oldest 
of  his  warriors,  Pierre  and  Baptiste,  the  latter 
gently  lifted  the  blanket  from  the  shoulders  of 
the  wounded  man,  saying,  "Let  my  brother  al- 
low his  friends  to  see  the  hurts  which  he  has 
received,  that  they  may  endeavour  to  relieve  or 
heal  them." 

The  Chief  nodded  his  assent,  and  no  sign,  save 
the  dew  that  stood  upon  his  brow,  betrayed  the 
agony  and  the  sense  of  exhaustion  that  he  en- 
dured. When  the  tattered  remnants  of  his  hunt- 
ing dress  were  removed,  a  spectacle  so  terrible 
was  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  Guide,  that  even 
his  iron  nerves  could  not  endure  it,  and,  cover- 
ing his  face  with  his  hands,  he  groaned  aloud, 
while  the  exclamation,  "Dieu  de  la  miseri- 
corde !"  broke  from  his  lips  in  the  language  that 
they  had  first  been  taught  to  speak. 

The  left  arm  of  the  Chief  was  bitten  through 
and  through,  and  so  dreadfully  mangled  that  no 
skill  of  surgery  could  restore  it;  the  shoulders 
and  chest  had  been  lacerated  by  the  fore-paws, 
and  some  of  the  wounds  wide  and  gaping,  as  it 
made  by  a  saw  or  hatchet ;  these,  however,  might 
possibly  yield  to  time  and  careful  treatment; 
but  the  injuries  that  he  had  received  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  body  were  such  as  to  leave  no  hope 
of  recovery,  for  the  bear,  in  her  last  dying  strug 
gles,  had  used  the  terrible  claws  of  her  hind-feet 
with  such  fatal  effect,  that  the  lacerated  entrails 
of  the  sufferer  protruded  through  the  M'ound. 

Baptiste  saw  at  a  glance  that  all  was  over,  and 
that  any  attempt  at  closing  the  wounds  would 
only  cause  additional  and  needless  pain.  War 
Eagle  watched  his  countenance,  and  reading 
there  a  verdict  that  confirmea  his  own  sensations, 
gave  him  his  hand  and  smiled.  The  rough  woods- 
man wrung  it  with  ill-dissembled  emotion,  and 
turned  away  his  head  that  his  Indian  friend  might 
not  see  the  moisture  that  gathered  in  his  eye. 

A  brief  consultation  now  ensued,  during  which 
it  was  arranged  that  the  carcases  of  the  bears 
should  be  carried  away,  and  the  wounded  chie^ 
gently  moved  to  a  soft  grassy  spot  a  few  yards 
distant,  where  his  wounds  might  be  so  far  dress- 
ed and  bandaged  as  to  prevent  further  effusion 
of  blood.  It  was  also  agreed  that  the  tent  and 
the  lodges  should  be  brought  to  the  spot,  so  that 
he  might  receive  all  the  care  and  attention  that 
his  desperate  case  admitted. 

These  arrangements  having  been  made,  Bap- 
tiste walked  slowly  towards  the  place  where  the 
rest  of  the  party  awaited  in  deep  anxiety  the  re- 
sult of  his  report.  As  he  drew  near  with  heavy, 
lingering  steps,  and  his  weather-beaten  counte- 
nance overspread  with  gloom,  they  saw  toe  well 
the  purport  of  his  message,  and  none  had  :our- 
age  enough  to  be  the  first  to  bid  him  speak. 
Prairie-bird  clung  to  the  arm  of  Reginald  for 
support;  the  Delawares  leaned  upon  their  rifles 
in  silence ;  and  even  the  rough  hunters  of  the 
prairie  wore  an  aspect  of  sadness  that  contrasted 
strongly  with  their  habitual  bold  and  reckless 
bearing. 

Recovering  his  composure  by  a  powerful  ef- 
fort, the  Guide  looked  gravely  around  him  as 
soon  as  he  reached  the  centre  of  a  semicircle  in 
which  they  stood,  and  addressing  himself  first  to 
Reginald  and  the  white  men,  said,  "  There  is  no 
cure  for  the  wounds  of  the  Delaware;  were  the 


174 


THE    PRAIRIE-BlKt). 


Blacjt  Father  himself  among  us,  his  skill  and 
his  medicine  would  be  in  vain."  Then  turning 
to  the  Delawarcs,  he  added  in  their  own  tongue, 
"  The  sun  of  the  Lenape  Chief  is  setting.  The 
Great  Spirit  has  sent  for  him,  and  he  must  obey : 
let  his  warriors  gather  round  tiim  to  smooth  his 
path  through  the  dark  valley." 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  Guide  hastened  to 
carry  into  effect  the  arrangements  above  raen- 
tioneil,  and  in  a  short  time  the  little  camp  was 
mcved  to  the  spot  where  the  Delaware  reclined 
against  the  stump  of  a  withered  alder,  over 
which  his  followers  had  already  thrown  some 
ilankets  and  buffalo-robes  to  .soften  his  couch. 
Hither  was  brought  the  tent  of  Prairie-bird, 
which  was  so  pitched  that  the  outer  compart- 
ment might  shelter  the  wounded  chief,  and  might 
afford  to  Reginald  and  Prairie-bird  the  means  of 
watching  him  constantly,  and  administering  such 
relief  in  his  extremity,  as  was  within  their  power. 

Lita's  energies,  both  of  mind  and  body,  seem- 
ed entirely  paralyzed,  she  neither  wept  nor  sob- 
bed, but  sate  in  a  corner  of  the  tent,  whence  she 
gazed  intently,  yet  with  a  vacant  expression, 
upon  the  sufferer. 

He  alone  of  the  whole  party  maintained 
throughout  a  dignified  and  unmoved  compo- 
sure; nor  could  either  the  pangs  he  endured,  nor 
the  certain  prospect  of  a  lingering  death,  draw 
from  him  a  word  of  complaint.  He  smiled 
gratefully  as  Prairie-bird  from  lime  to  time  rais- 
ed the  refreshing  cup  of  water  to  his  lips,  or 
wiped  away  the  drops  which  weakness  and  ag- 
ony wrung  from  his  forehead.  Once,  and  once 
only,  did  a  look  of  gloom  and  discontent  pass 
over  his  countenance. 

Reginald  observing  it,  took  his  hand  and  in- 
quired, "  Is  there  a  dark  thought  in  my  brother's 
heart,  let  him  speak  it  1" 

"  There  is,"  replied  the  chief,  with  stern  en- 
ergy, "  Mahega,  the  bioody-hand— the  Washashe 
wolf— the  slayer  of  my  tribe,  he  lives,  and  War- 
Eagle  must  go  to  the  hunting-fields  of  the  brave, 
and  when  his  fathers  say  to  him,  '  Where  is  the 
scalp  of  Mahega  V  his  tongue  will  be  silent,  and 
his  hands  will  be  empty." 

"  His  hands  will  not  be  empty,"  replied  Regi- 
nald, breathing  his  own  impassioned  feelings  in 
the  figurative  language  of  his  friend,  "  His 
hands  will  not  be  empty ;  he  can  shew  the  scalps 
of  many  enemies  ;  he  may  tell  the  ancient  peo- 
ple that  he  was  the  war-chief  of  their  race,  that 
neither  Wahashe  nor  Dahcotah  ever  saw  his 
back;  and  that,  to  save  his  sister's  life,  he  gave 
his  own.  Where  is  the  warrior  who  would  not 
envy  the  fame  of  War-Eagle,  and  who  would 
not  rejoice  in  the  glory  of  such  a  death  1" 

These  v/ords,  and  the  tone  of  earnest  feeling 
in  which  they  were  spoken,  touched  the  right 
chord  in  the  heart  of  the  Chief;  he  pressed  the 
hand  of  his  friend,  and  a  smile  of  triumph  shot 
across  his  features  like  a  sunbeam  breaking 
through  the  thick  darkness  of  a  thunder-cloud. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Hah*ga  is  found  in  strange  company,  and  Wingenund 
defers,  on  account  of  more  important  concerns,  his  plan 
for  the  iiberation  of  his  friends. — A  council,  a  combat, 
and  a  skirmish,  in  which  last,  the  Crows  receive  as- 
sistance from  a  quarter  whence  they  least  expected  it. 

We  left  Wingenund  on  his  way  to  the  Crow 
cami),  revolving  as  he  went  vanious  schemes  for 


the  deliverance  of  his  friends.  However  slignt 
was  the  faith  which  he  was  disposed  to  place 
in  the  honesty  of  Beshaj  he  confidently  believed 
that  the  horse-dealer's  self-interest  would  keep 
him  true,  at  least  for  the  tiime,  to  the  party 
whence  the  greater  rewards  and  presents  might 
he  expected.  He  knew  also  that  Bending-wil- 
low  was  kindly  disposed  towards  the  prisoners, 
and  would  do  all  that  was  in  her  power  towards 
engaging  her  impatient  and  hot-headed  hubhaiid 
to  favour  their  release.  Nevertheless  the  game 
to  be  played  was  a  difficult  one,  especially  as 
the  consequence  of  any  unsuccessful  attempt 
might  prove  fatal  to  them  as  well  as  to. himself. 

So  intent  was  the  youth  upon  these  medita- 
tions, that  he  forgot  the  distance  and  the  diffi- 
culties of  his  circuitous  route,  his  light  elastic 
step  bearing  him  over  hill  and  vale  with  a  speed 
of  which  he  was  scarcely  conscious,  and  long 
before  the  sun  went  down  he  found  himself  at 
the  farther  extremity  of  the  mountain  pass, 
which  has  been  before  mentioned  as  leading  into 
the  valley  where  the  Crows  were  encamped, 
from  a  quarter  exactly  opposite  to  that  where 
his  own  friends  were  stationed. 

As  he  was  about  to  step  across  a  small  rivu- 
let that  trickled  from  the  rocks  above,  lending  a 
greener  freshness  to  the  narrow  strip  of  grass 
through  which  it  flowed,  his  attention  was  ar- 
rested by  a  recent  footmark  upon  its  margin. 
Starting  with  surprise,  he  stooped  to  exam^fe  it 
more  carefully,  it  was  plain  and  distinct,  so  that 
a  less  sagacious  eye  than  his  might  have  traced 
its  form  and  dimension.^.  A  single  look  satisfied 
him,  and  as  he  rose  from  his  scrutiny,  the  name 
of  Mahega  escaped  from  his  lips. 

Without  a-  moment's  hesitation,  he  resolved 
to  follow  the  trail  of  the  Osage  and  observe  his 
movements,  conjecturing  that  these  probably 
boded  no  good  to  the  Delaware  party,  although 
he  felt  at  some  loss  to  imagine  what  object 
could  lead  him  to  a  quarter  almost  immediately 
opposite  to  that  where  they  were  encamped. 

The  task  which  Wingenund  had  now  under- 
taken was  not  an  easy  one,  for  the  ground  was 
hard  and  barren,  and  the  short  grass  partly  dried 
by  the  mountain  winds  and  partly  burnt  by  the 
summer  sun,  scarcely  received  any  impression 
from  the  pressure  of  a  foot,  and  the  youth  was 
compelled  to  pause  so  frequently  in  order  to  ex- 
amine the  scarcely  perceptible  marks  of  the 
trail,  that  his  progress  was  far  from  being  so 
rapid  as  he  could  have  wished.  Nevertheless 
he  toiled  perseveringly  forward,  his  hopes  being 
every  now  and  then  refreshed  by  finding  on  the 
descent  of  the  steep  hill-side,  an  indication  of 
the  Osage's  tread  that  he  could  not  mistake. 

Wingenund  had  followed  the  trail  for  several 
hours,  when  he  caught  a  distant  view  of  a  slight 
column  of  smoke  rising  from  a  dell,  the  bottom 
of  which  was  concealed  by  intervening  heights. 
One  of  these,  more  rugged  and  lofty  than  the 
rest,  lay  at  his  right  hand,  and  he  climbed  with 
some  difficulty  to  the  top  of  it,  in  hopes  of  being 
able  thence  to  descry  the  spot  whence  the  smoke 
arose.  Neither  was  he  disappointed  in  this  ex- 
pectation, for  on  reaching  the  height,  he  could 
see  into  the  deep  bosom  of  the  mountain  glen, 
where  he  clearly  discerned  a  large  body  of  men 
and  horses,  assembled  round  a  fire ;  carefulty 
noting  the  nature  of  the  intervening  ground,  he 
rg-descended  the  hill,  and  again  threw  himself 


THE  PRAIRIE- BIRD. 


175 


upon  the  trail  of  the  Osage,  which  continued,  as 
he  expected,  to  lead  him  in  the  direction  of  the 
unknown  band. 

As  he  advanced  he  felt  the  necessity  of  using 
the  greatest  caution  lest  he  should  inadvertently 
come  within  sight  of  any  scouts  or  stragglers 
from  the  valley  below  ;  but  fortune  and  his  own 
SKill  so  far  favoured  his  approach  that  he  reached 
unperceived  a  point  whence  he  could  more 
clearly  see  the  circle  assembled  round  the  fire, 
and  could  distinguish  the  horses  and  the  men 
sufficiently  to  ascertain  that  they  belonged  to 
some  mountain  tribe  bent  on  a  war  excursion, 
as  they  had  with  them  neither  their  women  nor 
their  lodges.  With  awakened  curiosity  and  in- 
terest, the  youth  now  crept  to  a  spot  at  a  little 
distance,  where  a  confused  pile  of  huge  stones, 
here  and  there  overgrown  with  stunted  shrubs, 
offered  a  sheltered  retreat,  whence,  without  be- 
ing himself  seen,  he  could  observe  all  that  passed 
below.  In  making  his  way  to  the  place  he  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  find  what  might  almost 
be  called  a  beaten  path,  upon  which  the  recent 
tracks  of  men  and  horses,  as  well  as  of  bison, 
^  were  clearly  discernible. 

He  had  scarcely  time  to  conceal  himself,  when 
he  perceived  two  men  coming  directly  towards 
his  hiding-place,  in  one  of  whom  he  recognised 
the  Osage  chief,  while  the  other  belonged  ap- 
parently to  some  tribe  of  Indians  that  he  had 
never  seen  before.  They  came  slowly  up  the 
path  before-mentioned,  stopping  almost  at  every 
step,  and  conversing  in  the  language  of  signs, 
by  which  means  their  expressions  of  mutual 
friendship  were  as  intelligible  to  the  quick-wit- 
ted youth  as  they  were  to  each  other.  The 
stranger  was  a  fine-looking  Indian,  and  though 
lower  in  stature  than  his  gigantic  companion, 
had  the  appearance  of  great  muscular  strength, 
and  his  dress  betokened,  according  to  Indian 
notions  of  magnificence,  a  chief  of  high  degree. 
His  black  hair  was  clubbed  behind  his  head,  and 
fastened  with  several  painted  feathers  bound 
with  fillets  of  ermine  ;  his  hunting-shirt  was  of 
the  skin  of  the  mountain  goat,  and  both  it  and 
his  deerskin  leggins  were  ornamented  with  por- 
cupine quills,  and  fringed  with  the  scalp-locks 
of  enemies  slain  in  battle  ;  he  carried  in  his 
hand  a  long  lance,  also  decorated  with  scalp- 
locks,  and  at  his  back  hung  a  quiver  made  from 
the  skin  of  the  panther,  in  which  bristled  a  score 
of  arrows  beautifully  tipped  with  sharp  flint,  and 
attached  to  it  by  a  leather  thong,  was  a  bow  so 
short,  that  it  looked  more  like  the  plaything  of 
a  boy  than  the  deadly  weapon  of  a  warrior. 

Wingenund  wondered  to  what  tribe  the  stran- 
ger might  belong ;  and  as  the  two  Indians  seated 
tliemselves  upon  a  fragment  of  rock  only  a  few 
yards  from  the  recess  in  which  he  was  en- 
sconced, he  trusted  that  some  signal  would  pass 
by  which  his  curiosity  might  be  afterwards  sat- 
isfied ;  at  all  events,  it  seemed  clear  that  they 
were  already  upon  the  best  terms  with  each 
other,  for  they  smiled  and  grinned,  each  placing 
a  hand  upon  the  heart  of  the  other,  after  which 
Mahega  extended  his  arms  like  a  flying  bird,  and 
then  passed  his  right  hand  with  a  rapid  move- 
ment round  his  own  scalp  ;  from  which  sign  the 
yoHth  mstantly  knew  that  their  plot  was  to  at- 
tack and  kill  the  Upsarokas. 

"  Double-tongued    cowardly   snake !"    said 
Wingenund  to  himself,  "  he  made  a  league  with 


the  Dahcotahs  to  destroy  his  Ler.ape  friends, 
and  now  he  makes  one  with  a  stranger  tribe  to 
destroy  those  with  whom  he  eats  and  smokes." 

That  the  youth  rightly  conjectured  the  object 
of  the  interview  he  could  no  longer  doubt,  when 
Mahega,  pointing  directly  to  the  valley  where 
the  Crows  were  encamped,  repeated  again  the 
signals  for  attack  and  slaughter.  Not  a  word 
passed  during  this  time,  excepting  when  the 
stranger  drew  from  under  his  hunting  shirt  a 
small  whistle,  made  apparently  either  from  a 
bone  or  a  reed,  and  quaintly  ornamented  with 
stained  quills  and  the  down  from  the  breast  ot 
some  mountain  bird  ;  having  applied  this  to  his 
lips,  he  drew  from  it  a  peculiar  sound,  n-ot  re- 
markable for  its  shrillness,  rut  different  from 
any  tone  that  Wingenund  reiAembered  to  have 
heard  before. 

After  two  or  three  attempts,  Mahega  suc- 
ceeded in  sounding  it  correctly  ;  and  nodding 
intelligently  to  the  stranger,  concealed  it  care- 
fully in  his  belt ;  they  then  exchanged  the  names 
or  war-cry  by  which  they  were  lo  recognize  each 
other,  Mahega  teaching  his  new  friend  to  say 
'■'Washashe,'"  and  learning  in  return  to  pronounce 
Kain-na,"  which  he  repeated  three  or  four  times 
so  distinctly,  that  Wingenund  caught  and  re- 
membered it.  These  preparatory  civilities  having 
passed,  they  proceeded  to  the  interchange  of  pre- 
sents, by  which  their  alliance  was  to  be  cemented. 

Mahega  drew  from  his  girdle  a  pistol,  which 
he  gave,  together  with  a  small  leather  poucl 
containing  lead  and  powder,  to  the  strangei 
chief,  who  received  it  with  an  air  so  puzzled 
and  mysterious,  that  Mahega  could  scarcely  re- 
frain from  smiling.  He  turned  the  pistol  over 
and  over,  looking  down  the  barrel,  and  examin- 
ing the  lock,  with  a  curiosity  that  he  cared  not 
to  conceal ;  he  pointed  it,  however,  towards  a 
mark  in  an  adjoining  rock,  and  made  a  sound 
with  his  lips,  which  was  intended  to  imitate  its 
report,  repeating  at  the  same  time  the  word 
"  sachsi-nama,"  as  if  to  show  that  the  name 
and  us«  of  the  weapon  were  not  strange  to  him, 
although  he  might  never  have  seen  one  before. 
Mahega  then  proceeded  to  show  him  how  to  use 
it,  making  signs  that  with  it  he  might  kill  all  his 
enemies ;  and  upon  the  stranger  expressing  a 
wish  to  see  an  instance  of  its  power,  he  placed 
a  thin  flat  stone  at  the  distance  of  a  few  yards, 
and  split  it  in  two  at  the  first  shot ;  after  which 
he  reloaded  it,  showing  at  the  same  time  the 
use  of  the  priming-pan  and  trigger. 

It  was  not  without  a  look  of  gratified  pride 
that  he  placed  the  pistol  in  his  belt,  repeating 
again  and  again,  "  sachsi-nama,"  "  nahtovi- 
nama."  He  then  unslung  the  short  bow  that 
hung  at  his  back,  and  presented  it,  with  the 
panther-skin  quiver  full  of  arrows,  to  the  Osage 
chief,  who  received  the  gift  with  every  appear- 
ance of  satisfaction,  and  they  parted,  theformei 
returning  towards  the  encampment  of  his  tribe, 
after  he  had  told  Mahega  that  the  name  of  the 
bow  was  "nutsi-nima."* 


*  Of  all  the  Indian  nations  who  inhabit  the  wild  region* 
near  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  range,  the  most  fierce 
and  powerful  are  the  Black-feet.  Few,  if  any,  white  men 
have  penetrated  into  the  heart  of  their  country,  and  rtj- 
turned  to  tell  their  tale.  Very  little  is  known,  therefore, 
either  of  their  customs  or  language :  and  it  may  not  be 
uninteresting  for  the  reader  to  be  informed,  that  every 
particular  mentioned  respecting  them  in  this  volume  was 
obtained  direct  from  a  French  trader,  who  had  been  per 


176 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Foi  some  time  after  the  departure  of  his  new  I  him  that  he  had  news  ol  great  importance  to 
..y,  the  Osage  remained  upon  his  seat  examin-    communicate  to  the  Crow  chiefs,  and  that  no 


ing  the  how,  which  at  first  sight  he  had  consid- 
ered a  mere  toy,  hut  which  he  found,  to  his  as- 
tonishment, required  all  his  force  to  draw  it  to 
its  full  power.  Being  formed  of  bone,  strength- 
ened tliroughout  with  sinew,  it  was  stiff  and 
clastic  to  an  extraordinary  degree ;  and,  al- 
though not  more  than  three  feet  in  length,  would 
drive  an  arrow  as  far  as  an  ordinary  six-feet  bow. 
When  he  had  sufficiently  examined  his  new 
acquisition,  it  occurred  to  the  chief  that  he  could 
not,  without  risk  of  detection,  carry  it  into  the 
Crow  camp.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  hide  it 
in  a  dry  cleft  of  the  rock,  and  take  it  out  again 
after  the  issue  of  his  plot  should  be  decided. 

This  resolution  threatened  to  bring  about  an 
unexpected  catastrophe,  as  it  happened  that  he 
approached  the  very  recess  in  which  Wingenund 
was  stationed.  Drawing  the  knife  from  his  belt, 
the  youth  stood  in  the  inmost  corner  of  the  cav- 
ern, ready,  as  soon  as  discovery  became  inevita- 
ble, to  spring  upon  his  powerful  enemy  ;  but  fate 
had  otherwise  decreed,  and  the  Osage  passed 
on  to  a  higher  and  narrower  cleft,  where  he  de- 
posited the  quiver  and  the  bow,  carefully  closing 
the  aperture  with  moss  and  lichen. 

It  was  not  until  he  had  gone  some  distance 
on  his  homeward  way,  that  Wingenund  emerged 
from  his  hiding-place,  and,  having  possessed 
himself  of  the  quiver  and  bow,  returned  slowly 
upon  the  Osage's  trail  towards  the  IJpsaroka 
camp,  proving  as  he  went  the  surprising  strength 
of  the  weapon,  and  admiring  the  straightness 
and  beauty  of  the  war-arrows  with  which  the 
quiver  was  supplied.* 

Following  unperceived,  and  at  some  distance, 
the  steps  of  the  Osage,  he  found  tjiat  the  latter 
took  a  shorter,  though  a  somewhat  steeper  and 
more  rugged,  way  than  that  by  which  he  had 
come ;  so  that  very  little  more  than  two  hours 
of  brisk  walking  brought  him  within  sight  of  the 
watch-fires  of  the  Upsaroka  camp,  just  as  day 
closed,  and  their  light  began  to  shine  more 
brightly  through  the  valley.  Availing  himself 
of  the  shelter  of  a  stunted  pine,  the  youth  lay 
down  for  some  time,  and  did  not  re-enter  the 
camp  until  late  at  night,  when  he  made  his  way 
without  interruption  to  Besha's  tent,  giving  to 
the  outposts  by  whom  he  was  challenged  the 
countersign  taught  him  by  the  horse-dealer. 

On  the  following  morning,  before  sunrise, 
Besha  was  aroused  by  Wingenund,  who  told 


iniued  to  marry  a  Black-foot  wife,  and  had  resided  nine- 
leen  years  among  them.  The  construction  of  their  lan- 
guage is  very  remarkable,  and  some  account  of  it  would 
doubtless  be  gladly  received  by  i)hilologists ;  but  such  a 
subject  cannot  be  treated  in  a  work  like  the  present. 
With  respect  to  the  words  referred  to  in  the  te.xt,  it  will 
be  seen  tjiat  they  show  the  syntheiic  n.iture  of  the  lan- 
gcace,  "nlma"  being  the  root,  anil  signifying  a  laeapon. 
Hence  came  "  suksinftma,"  rifle ;  literally,  "  heavy-weap- 
on ;"  "saksinaraa,"  pistol;  literally,  "light-weapon;" 
"  nahtovinftrna,"  wonderful,  or  medicine-weapon ;  and 
"  nilsin&ma,"  literally,  useless-weapon  ;  which  Intter  name 
h.is  probably  been  given  to  the  bow  since  the  Black-feet 
have  learnt  ihe  superior  efficacy  of  fire-arms. 

*  It  may  Lot  be  generally  known  to  European  readers 
that  the  arrows  used  by  the  western  Indians  are  of  two 
sorts.  The  hunting-arrow,  which  has  a  head  tapering  In 
the  form  of  an  acute  lozenge,  and  tirmly  secured  to  the 
shaft,  so  as  to  be  easily  withdrawn  from  a  wound,  and 
the  war-arrow,  sometimes  poisoned,  but  always  barbed 
like  a  fiah-hook,  and  having  its  head  so  slightly  fastened 
to  the  shaft,  as  to  renxiun  infi.\ed  In  the  wound  when  the 
wood  is  puUed  aot 


time  should  be  lost  before  they  were  summoned 
to  council.     The  horse-dealer  rubbed  his  eyes, 
as  he  wakened  by  degrees,  and  listened  to  tliis 
intelligence,  which  he  suspected  at  first  to  be 
some  trick  on  the  part  of  the  youth  for  the  liber- 
ation of  his  friends  ;  but  there  was  an  earnest 
simplicity  in  his  manner  that  carried  conviction 
with  it ;  and  Besha  endeavoured,  as  he  threw 
on  his  hunting-shirt,  and  fastened  his  belt,  to 
learn  from  the  youth  the  nature  and  purport  of 
his  intelligence.     The  latter  seemed,  however, 
to  be  in  no  very  communicative  mood  ;  he  mere- 
ly replied,  "  Wingenund  speaks  not  the  Upsaro- 
ka tongue  ;  let  Besha  repeat  to  the  council  word 
after  word  what  he  hears,  that  will  be  enough  ; 
he  will  serve  both  the  Crows  and  the  Delawares, 
and  will  obtain  thanks  and  presents  from  both. 
Let  Mahega,  too,  be  called  to  attend  the  council." 
The  horse-dealer  having  departed  upon  hts 
errand,  Wingenund  found  an  opportunity  to  de- 
tail briefly  to  Paul   Miiller  and  Ethelston  the 
discovery  that  he  had  made  on  the  preceding 
evening;  but  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  he 
could  obtain  from  neither  any  information  res- 
pecting the  mountain  tribe  with  whom  the  Osage 
was  carrying  on  his  treacherous  intrigue. 

"  Let  my  son  boldly  speak  the  truth,"  said  the 
Missionary,  "  and  leave  the  result  to  God." 

"  Wingenund  never  told  a  lie,"  replied  the 
young  Delaware  ;  and  the  bright,  fearless  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance  warranted  the  proud 
assertion. 

"  How  many  are  there  in  our  crowded  cities 
and  churches,"  said  the  Missionary  K)oking  af- 
ter the  youth  as  he  re-entered  the  horse-dealer's 
lodge,  "who  dare  echo  that  speech"!  yet  me- 
thinks,  as  far  as  memory  and  conscience  serve 
him,  he  has  said  no  more  than  the  truth.  7 
have  known  him  from  his  childhood,  and  believe 
him  to  be  as  much  a  stranger  to  falsehood  as  to 
fear." 

"  They  are  cousins-german,  my  worthy  friend," 
said  Ethelston,  "  and  generally  dwell  together ! 
I  wonder  not  at  the  affection  which  Reginald 
bears  to  that  youth  ;  nature  has  stamped  upon 
his  countenance  all  the  high  and  generous  quali- 
ties that  endear  man  to  his  brother.  Let  us  en- 
deavour to  be  present  at  the  council  which  is 
now  assembling ;  we  have  been  such  quiet  pris- 
oners, that  perhaps  our  guards  will  allow  us  to 
be  spectators  on  this  occasion." 

Besha  happening  to  pass  at  this  moment,  ob- 
tained for  them  the  desired  permission,  which 
was  the  rnore  readily  granted  that  the  Crow 
sentries  themselves   were  desirous   of  seeing 
what  was  going  forward,  and  knew  that  no  dan- 
ger could  be  apprehended  from  the  two  unarmed 
captives.     The  spectacle  that  met  their  view 
when  they  issued  from  the  lodge  was  striking 
and  picturesque  ;  runners  had  been  sent  through- 
out the  camp,  and  all  the  principal  chiefs,  braves, 
and  medicine-men  were  already  assembled  in  a 
semicircle,  the  concave  centre  of  which  was 
formed  by  the  lodge  of  White-Bull  and  his  father, 
the  latter  of  whom  had  put  on  for  the  occasion 
a  magnificent  head-dress  of  painted  eagle- feath- 
ers, which  betokened  his  rank  as  head-chief 
of  the  band.     The  horse-dealer  stood  in  front 
of  his  own  lodge  to  the  left,  and  frequent  were 
the  glances  directed  to  him  from  all  quarters,  it 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


177 


hanngbeen  generally  understood  that  the  coun- 
liil  was  summoned  to  consider  matters  brought 
forward  by  him.  Behind  him  stood  Wingenund, 
wrapped  in  a  loose  blanket,  which  partially  con- 
cealed his  features  and  covered  entirely  the  rest 
of  his  person  ;  on  the  opposite  wing  of  the  cir- 
cle, and  at  a  distance  of  twenty-live  or  thirty 
yards,  stood  Mahega,  his  gigantic  stature  shown 
off  to  the  best  advantage  by  the  warlike  dress 
which  he  had  put  on  complete  for  the  solemn 
occasion,  his  neck  and  arms  being  covered  with 
beads  of  various  colours,  and  his  fingers  playing 
unconsciously  with  the  weighty  iron-pointed 
mace  or  war-club  which  had  slain  so  many  of 
those  whose  scalp-locks  now  fringed  his  leathern 
Bhirt  and  hose.  The  warriors  and  other  Indians 
of  inferior  degree  stood  in  the  back-ground,  and 
some,  anxious  to  get  a  better  view  of  what  was 
going  forward,  had  perched  themselves  upon  the 
adjoining  rocks  and  cliffs,  where  their  dusky 
forms,  dimly  seen  through  the  mists  which  were 
now  vanishing  before  the  beams  of  the  rising 
sun,  gave  a  wild  and  picturesque  effect  to  the 
scene. 

Nearly  half  an  hour  was  consumed  by  the 
soothsayers,  or  medicine-men,  in  going  through 
their  formal  mumnfteries,  to  ascertain  whether 
the  hour  and  the  occasion  were  favourable  for 
the  proposed  business  ;  and  it  was  not  until  the 
medicine-pipe  h^id  been  passed  round,  and  the 
chief  functionary  had  turned  gravely  to  the 
north,  south,  east,  and  west,  blowing  to  each 
quarter  successively  a  whiff  of  medicine-smoke, 
that  he  gave  his  permission  for  the  council  to 
proceed  with  its  deliberaJ.ions. 

Duiing  all  this  time  a  profound  silence  reigned 
thioughout  the  camp,  the  women  suspending 
their  scolding,  chattering,  and  domestic  avoca- 
tions, and  even  the  children  peeping,  half  fright- 
ened, from  behind  their  mothers,  or  stealing 
away  to  some  spot  where  they  might  laugh  and 
play  without  fear  of  being  whipped  for  disturb- 
ing the  solemnities. 

The  venerable  father  of  White-Bull  now  re- 
turned the  great  pipe  to  the  medicine-men,  say- 
ing, in  a  voice  distinctly  audible  throughout  the 
circle,  "  Besha  has  called  the  chiefs  and  braves 
of  the  Upsaroka  together  ;  they  are  come — their 
ears  are  open — let  the  one-eyed  man,  who  brings 
horses  from  the  far  prairies,  speak  with  a  single 
tongue." 

Thus  called  upon,  the  horse-dealer  stepped 
forward,  saying,  "  Besha  is  neither  wise  in 
council,  nor  a  chief  among  warriors  ;  he  has 
travelled  far  among  the  eastern  tribes,  and  he 
knows  their  tongues  ;  he  stands  here  to  give 
out  of  his  mouth  what  goes  in  at  his  ear.  Let 
the  Upsaroka  warriors  listen  ;  they  are  not 
fools ;  they  will  soon  know  if  lies  are  told  to 
them.  Let  them  look  at  this  youth  ;  his  blanket 
in  that  of  Besha's  slave  ;  he  is  not  what  he 
seems ;  he  is  a  son  of  the  Lenape,  a  friend  of 
tbe  whites  ;  yet  he  is  come  alone  into  the  camp 
to  show  to  the  Upsaroka  that  a  snake  is  crawl- 
ing among  their  lodges." 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  assembly  as  Be- 
Bha  pronounced  these  words,  and  pointed  to 
V/ingenund,  who,  throwing  the  blanket  into 
the  hollow  of  his  left  arm,  advanced  to  the  front, 
and,  with  a  slight  inclination  to  the  old  chief, 
awaited  his  permission  to  proceed. 

The  youth,  the  graceful  form,  the  open  coun- 
M 


tenance,  and  the  dignified  bearing  of  Winge. 
nund  as  he  stood  forward  in  the  assembled  cir- 
cle, prepossessed  the  Crows  strongly  in  his  fa- 
vour ;  and  they  awaited,  with  excited  curiosity, 
the  intelligence  that  he  had  to  communicate  ; 
but  their  chief  did  not  appear  disposed  to  gratify 
their  i^F. patience,  for  after  whispering  a  few 
words  to  a  messenger  who  stood  beside  him,  ha 
relapsed  into  silence,  scanning  with  a  fixed  gaze 
the  countenance  of  the  young  Delaware.  The 
latter  bore  the  scrutiny  with  modest,  yet  undis- 
turbed composure,  and  not  a  voice  was  raised 
in  the  council  until  the  return  of  the  messenger, 
conducting  a  Crow  doctor  or  conjuror,  some- 
what advanced  in  years,  who  took  his  station 
by  the  chief,  and  gave  a  silent  assent  to  the 
whispered  orders  that  he  received. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  with  what  mingled 
feelings  of  surprise  and  indignation  the  haughty 
Osage  beheld  the  young  Delaware  thus  stand- 
ing forward  in  the  midst  of  the  council-circle , 
that  his  presence  boded  no  good  to  himself  he 
well  knew ;  but  how  and  wherefore  he  came, 
and  why  he,  belonging  as  he  did  to  a  hostile 
band,  was  thus  permitted  to  appear  before  the 
assembly  of  Crow  warriors,  he  was  quite  at  a 
loss  to  understand.  His  suspense,  however, 
was  not  destined  to  be  of  long  duration  ;  for,  as 
soon  as  Besha,  in  obedience  to  a  signal  from 
the  chief,  had  desired  Wingenund  to  speak  what 
he  had  to  say,  the  youth  came  another  step  for- 
ward, and  said,  in  a  clear  voice — 

"  There  is  a  snake  among  the  lodges  of  the 
Upsaroka — a  hidden  snake,  that  will  bite  before 
its  rattle  is  heard." 

The  Crows  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as 
Besha  translated  this  sentence,  and  the  old  con- 
juror gave  a  slight  nod  to  the  chief,  indicating 
that  the  youth's  meaning  was  rightly  given.  It 
may  be  as  well  to  inform  the  reader,  that  the 
said  conjuror  had  in  early  life  been  taken  pris- 
oner by  the  Pawnees,  with  a  party  of  whom  he 
had  been  conveyed  to  a  great  council  held  with 
the  Indian  agents  at  St.  Charles's,  in  Missouri, 
respecting  the  cession  and  appropriation  of  ter- 
ritory. Several  of  the  Western  Delawares  had 
been  present  at  this  meeting,  which  was  pro- 
tracted for  many  weeks,  and  the  Crow  prisoner 
had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  their  tongue, 
which,  however  slight  it  might  be,  had  occa- 
sioned him  to  be  sent  for  on  this  occasion  to 
check  any  propensity  for  untruth  that  might  be 
entertained  by  the  horse-dealer.  Whether  the 
latter  was  influenced  by  these,  or  by  other  mo- 
tives, he  rendered  faithfully  the  conversation 
that  ensued,  and  therefore  it  is  not  necessary  to 
notice  further  the  part  played  by  the  interpreter. 

"  Who  is  it  that  speaks  T'  demanded  the  old 
chief,  with  dignity  ;  "  the  Crows  open  not  their 
ears  to  the  idle  words  of  strangers." 

"  Then  let  thenri  shut  their  ears,"  replied  the 
youth,  boldly.  "  Before  another  sun  has  set, 
they  will  wish  they  had  listened  to  the  words  of 
Wingenund  !" 

"  Who  is  Wingenund  1  Is  he  not  an  enemy'? 
have  not  his  people  shed  Upsaroka  blood  1  why 
then  should  they  believe  his  words  V 

"  Wingenund  is  the  son  of  a  Lenape  chief. 
For  a  thousand  summers  his  fathers  have  hunt- 
ed over  forest  and  plain  beyond  the  Great  River. 
Wingenund  has  heard  of  their  deeds,  and  he 
will  not  stain  his  lips  with  a  lie.    The  Lenap^ 


J78 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIKU. 


uave  taken  Cro\i  scalps  in  defence  of  their  own  ; 
Wingenund  will  not  deny  it ;  but  he  came  here 
to  serve  his  white  friends,  not  to  hurt  the  Up- 
saroka." 

On  hearing  this  bold  reply,  White-Bull  bent 
his  brow  fiercely  upon  the  speaker;  but  the 
youth  met  his  eye  with  a  look  of  bright  un- 
troubled confidence,  while  he  quietly  awaited 
the  chief's  further  interrogation. 

"  Let  the  son  of  the  Lenape  speak,  but  let  him 
beware ;  if  his  tongue  is  forked,  the  Upsaroka 
knives  will  cut  it  out  from  his  head." 

"  Wingenund  is  not  a  woman,  that  he  should 
be  frightened  with  big  words.  When  he  speaks, 
the  truth  comes  from  his  lips  ;  and  if  he  chooses 
to  be  silent,  the  Upsaroka  knives  cannot  make 
him  speak,"  replied  the  youth,  with  a  look  of 
lofty  scorn. 

"Is  it  sol  we  shall  see,"  cried  White-Bull, 
springing  forward,  at  the  same  time  drawing 
his  knife,  with  which  he  struck  full  at  the  naked 
breast  of  the  youth.  Not  a  muscle  moved  in 
the  form  or  countenance  of  Wingenund  ;  his 
eye  remained  steadily  fixed  on  that  of  the  Crow, 
and  he  did  not  even  raise  in  his  defence  the 
arm  ov«?r  which  his  blanket  was  suspended. 
Nothing  c.ould  have  saved  him  from  instant 
death,  had  n.ot  White-Bull  himself  arrested  the 
blow  just  as  it  was  falling,  so  that  the  point  of 
the  knife  scratched,  but  did  not  penetrate  the 
skin.  Wingenund  sroiled,  and  the  Crow  warrior, 
partly  ashamed  of  his  own  ebullition  of  temper, 
and  partly  in  admiratiort  of  the  cool  courage  of 
the  young  Delaware,  said  to  his  father,  "  Let 
him  speak ;  there  are  no  lies  upon  his  tongue." 
The  old  man  looked  for  a  moment  sternly  at 
his  son,  as  if  he  would  have  reproved  him  for 
his  violence,  in  interrupting  the  business  of  the 
council,  but  apparently  he  thought  it  better  to 
let  it  pass  ;  and  turning  toward  Wingenund,  he 
said,  in  a  milder  tone  than  he  had  yet  used, 
"  Let  the  young  stranger  speak,  if  he  will  ;  his 
words  will  not  be  blown  away  :  if  he  has  seen 
a  snake,  let  him  show  it,  and  the  chiefs  of  the 
Upsaroka  will  owe  him  a  debt." 

Thus  appealed  to,  Wingenund,  slowly  raising 
the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand,  pointed  it  full 
upon  Mahega,  saying,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  There 
is  the  snake !  Fed  by  the  hand  of  the  Upsaro- 
Ica,  clad  in  their  gifts,  warmed  by  their  fire,  he 
jow  tries  to  bite  them,  and  give  them  over  to 
iheir  enemies,  even  as  Lis  black  heart  and  fork- 
id  tongue  have  before  destroyed  those  whom 
ae  called  brothers." 

It  is  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  paint  the 
rage  of  the  conscious  Osage,  on  hearing  this 
charge  ;  he  concealed  it,  however,  by  a  strong 
effort,  under  a  show  of  just  indignation,  ex- 
claiming aloud,  "  The  Upsaroka  warriors  are 
not  fools,  that  they  should  believe  the  idle  words 
of  a  stranger  boy,  a  spy  who  stole  into  their 
camp  by  night,  and  now  tickles  their  ears  with 
lies." 

"The  young  Lenap6  must  tell  more,"  said 
the  old  chief,  gravely,  "  before  the  Upsaroka 
can  believe  bad  things  of  a  warrior  who  has 
smoked  and  fought  with  them,  and  has  taken 
the  scalps  of  their  enemies." 

Thus  called  upon,  Wingenund  proceeded  to 
relate  distinctly  the  circumstances  narrated  in 
the  last  chapter.  His  tale  was  so  clearly  told  ; 
his  description  of  the  locality  so  accurate,  that 


the  attention  of  the  whole  councU  was  rivetet?, 
and  they  listened  with  the  most  profound  atten- 
tion. A  cloud  gathered  upon  the  brow  of 
White-Bull,  and  the  gigantic  frame  of  Mahega 
swelled  with  a  tempest  of  suppressed  passion. 
Independently  of  the  dangers  that  now  threat- 
ened him,  his  proud  spirit  chafed  at  the  thought 
of  being  thus  tracked,  discovered,  exposed,  and 
disgraced  by  a  boy,  and  his  fury  was  heightened 
by  observing  the  bright  eye  of  the  Delaware 
youth  fixed  upon  him  with  a  steady,  searching 
gaze,  indicative  at  once  of  conscious  truth  and 
triumph.  Still  he  resolved  to  hold  out  to  the 
last ;  iie  trusted  that  after  the  great  services  he 
had  rendered  in  battle  to  the  Crows,  they  would 
at  least  believe  his  word  before  that  of  an  un- 
known youth,  who  came  amongst  them  under 
such  suspicious  circumstances.  These  reflec- 
tions passing  rapidly  through  his  mind,  restored 
his  disturbed  self-possession,  and  enabled  him 
to  curl  his  haughty  features  into  an  expression 
of  sneering  contempt, 

Great  was  the  excitement  among  the  Crews 
as  Wingenund  described,  with  unerring  minute- 
ness and  accuracy,  the  dress  and  equipments  o! 
the  stranger  with  whom  Mahega  had  held  the 
interview,  and  there  was  a  dead  silence  in  the 
council  when  the  interpreter  was  ordered  to  in- 
quire whether  he  knew  to  what  tribe  the  strange 
Indian  belonged. 

"Wingenund  knows  not,"  he  replied;  "but 
he  heard  the  name  that  was  taught  to  the  Osage 
as  the  battle-cry  of  his  new  allies." 

"  E-chi-pe-td .'"  shouted  the  impetuous  White- . 
Bull,  who  had  already  recognised  in  the  youth's 
description  oae  of  the  warriors  of  the  Black-feet, 
the  hereditary  enemies  of  his  tribe. 

"  It  was  not  so,"  replied  Wingenund  gravely. 
"  Ka-in-na*  was  the  name ;  it  was  twice  spo- 
ken." 

A  deep  murmur  ran  round  the  assembly, 
White-Bull  exchanged  a  significant  glance  with 
the  nearest  of  'lis  braves,  and  again  a  profound 
silence  reigned  throughout  the  assembly. 

Mahega  now  felt  that  the  crisis  of  his  fate 
was  at  hand,  and  that  everything  must  depend 
on  his  being  able  to  throw  discredit  on  the  tale 
of  Wingenund.  This  was  not,  however,  an 
easy  task,  for  he  suspected  Besha  of  a  secret 
leaning  to  the  Delaware  side,  while  the  fierce 
and  lowering  looks  of  the  bystanders  shovVed 
him  how  little  was  wanting  to  make  the  smoth- 
ered flame  burst  forth. 

These  indications  did  not  escape  the  aged 
chief,  who  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  serious  and 
warning  tone,  the  purport  of  which  was  to  re- 
mind them  that  the  present  council  was  sacred 
to  the  Medicine,  and  was  not  to  be  desecrated 
by  any  violence  or  shedding  of  blood.  He  con- 
cluded by  saying,  "  Let  the  Washashe  speak  for 
himself,  and  let  Besha  give  his  words  truly,  if 
he  does  not  wish  to  have  his  ears  cut  off." 

Thus  admonished,  the  horse-dealer  lent  all 
his  attention  to  the  Osage,  who  came  forward 


*  The  name  by  which  the  Black-feet  .ire  generally 
known  among  the  Crows  is  "  Echipeta."  In  their  owa 
lonsiuc  they  call  themselves  Siksikaga  ;"  both  words  hav 
ing  the  signification  of  Black-feet.  They  are  divided  into 
three  bands,  the  largest  of  which  is  called  by  the  generic 
name  above  mentioned,  as  being  that  of  the  tribe;  the 
other  two  bands  are  called  "Piecan"  or  "Piegan"  (the 
meaning  of  which  word  is  not  known  to  th«  author)  and 
Ka-in-na  or  "  Bloody-nien,"  which  last  are  held  to  be  th< 
most  fierce  and  formidable  of  the  three 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


179 


to  address  the  council  with  an  imposing  dignity 
ol  manner  that  almost  made  the  most  suspicious 
of  his  hearers  douht  the  truth  of  the  accusations 
biought  against  him. 

Being  now  in  front  of  the  semicircle,  which 
was  not  more  than  twenty  yards  in  W'dth,  he 
was  directly  opposite  to  VVingenund,  who  stood 
forward  a  few  feet  in  advance  of  its  other  wing. 
Tne  contrast  offered  by  the  stature  and  bearing 
of  the  accuser  and  the  accused,  the  slight,  ac- 
tive frame,  the  youth  and  grace  of  the  one,  and 
Ihe  haughty  air  and  gigantic  bulk  of  the  other, 
struck  Ethelston  so  forcibly  that  he  could  not 
forbear  whispering  to  Paul  Miiller,  "  Worthy 
Father,  does  not  the  scene  recall  to  mind  the 
meeting  between  the  Hebrew  shepherd  and  the 
Gi^nt  of  Gath^" 
1^  "  It  does,  my  son,  and  I  misjudge  the  looks 

«f  the  Osage  if  they  part  hence  without  the 
Bhedding  of  blood.  I  have  long  studied  his 
countenance,  and,  however  skilfully  he  has  sub- 
dued its  expression,  I  can  trace  the  full  storm 
of  passions  raging  within  his  breast." 

Further  discourse  was  prevented  by  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Osage's  speech,  which  he  de- 
livered with  a  tone  and  gesture  of  indignation, 
suitable  to  one  who  declared  himself  injured 
and  belied. 

He  began  by  recapitulating  the  services  that 
he  had  rendered  to  the  Crows,  the  faithful  war- 
riors that  he  had  lost  in  their  cause,  and  the 
valuable  presents  concealed  in  the  cache,  to 
which  he  was  even  now  conducting  them  ;  on 
the  other  hand,  he  painted  the  injuries  they  had 
received  from  the  Lenape,  who  had  come  into 
their  country  in  league  with  the  white-skins,  the 
bane  of  theii  tribe  and  race,  that  their  hands 
were  still  wet  whh  Upsaroka  blood ;  and  "  whose 
is  the  forked  tongue,"  said  he,  "  that  is  to  cover 
with  lies  and  dirt  the  fame  of  the  great  chief  of 
the  Washashe,  the  sworn  brother  of  the  Upsa- 
roka  1  '  Who,  but  a  boy,  a  stranger,  a  liar,  and 
a  spy,  telling  his  idle  dreams  to  the  council  to 
break  the  friendship  of  warriors  whom  his  cow- 
ardly tribe,  and  their  pale-faced  allies,  dared  not 
meet  in  the  field  !" 

During  the  whole  of  this  tirade,  which  was 
delivered  with  much  vehemence  and  gesticula- 
tion, Wingenund  stood  motionless  as  a  statue, 
his  calm  eye  fixed  upon  the  excited  countenance 
of  his  opponent  with  an  undisguised  expression 
of  contempt. 

Receiving  no  reply,  Mahega  continued: 
"Chiefs  and  brothers,  you  are  wise  in  council 
— men  of  experience ;  your  ears  will  not  be 
tickled  with  the  idle  songs  of  this  false-tongued 
singing-bird ;  a  messenger  who  brings  such 
news  to  the  great  council  of  the  Upsaroka — who 
tells  them  that  their  brother  who  has  fought  by 
their  side,  and  smoked  at  their  fire,  is  a  forked 
snake,  he  must  bring  something  better  able  to 
convince  them  than  the  cunning  words  coming 
from  his  own  lying  lips  !" 

These  words,  supported  by  the  commanding 
tone  assumed  by  the  Osage,  were  not  without 
their  effect  upon  the  minds  of  that  fierce  and 
deeply-interested  assemblage. 

Wingenund  waited  until  the  speech  of  his  an- 
tagonist had  been  translated  to  them,  when  he 
replied,  with  unmoved  composure,  "  If  the  Crow 
warriors  require  better  witness  than  words,  it 
is  not  difficult  to  find  •  they  have  already  been 


told  that  the  Kain-na  stranger  gave  to  Mahega 
a  present  of  a  bow  and  arrows,  which  he  hid  in 
the  rocks  ;  Wingenund  took  them  out,  and  here 
they  are." 

As  the  youth  spoke  he  dropped  the  b/anket 
that  had  been  thrown  over  his  left  arm  and 
shoulder,  holding  up  to  the  council  the  bow  and 
arrows,  which  all  present  instantly  recognised 
as  being  made  and  ornamented  by  the  Black- 
feet. 

"Are  the  warriors  yet  convinced,"  continued 
the  youth,  raising  his  voice,  "  or  do  they  wish  for 
more  1  if  they  do,  let  them  seize  the  Washashe 
wolf,  they  will  find  in  his  belt — " 

He  was  not  allowed  to  finish  the  sentence , 
the  storm  that  had  long  been  brooding,  now 
burst  in  all  its  fury.  Mahega,  driven  to  despe- 
ration by  the  damning  evidence  brought  against 
him,  and  reckless  of  all  save  the  gratification 
of  his  fierce  revenge,  whirled  his  iron-pointed 
mace  around  his  head,  and  launched  it  with 
tremendous  force  at  Wingenund. 

Never  had  the  latter  even  for  an  instant  taken 
his  falcon  eye  off  the  Osage  ;  but  so  swift  was 
the  motion  with  which  the  weapon  was  thrown, 
that  although  he  sprung  lightly  aside  to  avoid 
it,  the  spiked  head  grazed  and  laid  open  his 
cheek,  whence  it  glanced  off,  and  striking  an 
unlucky  Grow  who  stood  behind  him,  felled 
him,  with  a  broken  arm,  to  the  ground.  Even 
in  the  act  of  stooping  to  escape  the  mace,  Win- 
genund fitted  an  arrow  into  the  Black-foot  bow 
which  he  held  in  his  hand  ;  and  rising  quick  as 
thought,  let  it  fly  at  his  gigantic  adversary  with 
so  true  an  aim,  that  it  pierced  the  wind-pipe, 
and  the  point  came  out  at  the  back  of  his  neck; 
close  to  the  spine.  While  the  Osage,  haif 
strangled  and  paralysed,  tugged  ineffectually  at 
the  fatal  shaft,  Wingenund  leaped  upon  him 
with  the  bound  of  a  tiger,  and  uttering  aloud 
the  war-cry  of  the  Lenape,  buried  his  knife  in 
the  heart  of  his  foe.  With  one  convulsive 
groan  the  dying  Osage  fell  heavily  to  the  earth  ; 
and  ere  the  bystanders  had  recovered  from  their 
astonishment,  his  blood-stained  scalp  hung  at 
the  belt  of  the  victorious  Delaware. 

For  a  moment  all  was  tumult  and  confusion  ; 
the  few  remaining  Osages  made  a  rush  towards 
Wingenund  to  avenge  the  death  of  their  chief, 
but  they  were  instantly  overpowered,  and  se- 
cured with  thongs  of  pliant  bark,  while  White- 
Bull  sprang  into  the  arena  of  combat,  and  in  a 
voice  of  thunder  shouted  to  his  waniois  to 
stand  back  and  unstring  their  bows. 

During  the  brief  but  decisive  conflict  the  ap- 
pearance of  Wingenund  was  so  much  changed, 
that  Ethelston  declared  to  his  friend  after- 
wards that  he  should  not  have  recognised  him. 
The  muscles  of  his  active  frame  swelled  with 
exertion,  while  the  expanded  nostril  and  flash- 
ing eye  gave  to  his  countenance  an  expression 
of  fierce  excitement,  almost  amounting  to  fero- 
city. Now  that  the  struggle  was  over,  he  resum- 
ed without  an  effort,  the  habitual  quiet  gentleness 
of  his  demeanour,  and  turning  to  Besha,  said. 
"  Let  the  Upsaroka  chiefs  look  below  the  belt  of 
that  dead  wolf;  perhaps  they  will  find  the  sig- 
nal whistle  of  the  Kainna." 

The  horse-dealer  stooped  ;  and  searching  as 
he  was  directed,  found  a  small  leathern  bag,  on 
opening  which  there  fell  out,  as  Wingenund  had 
said,  the  whistle  of  the  Black-foot  chief;  a  veil 


180 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


f  indignation  burst  from  the  assembly,  some 
of  the  nearest  of  whom  Vented  their  rage  by 
bestowing  sundry  kicks  upon  the  inanimate  re- 
mains of  the  treacherous  Osage. 

Popularity  is  a  plant  that  springs  up  as  sud- 
denly, and  perishes  as  rapidly  among  the  tribes 
of  the  western  wilderness,  as  among  the  mobs 
of  Pans  or  of  London  ;  and  Wingenund,  whose 
life  would  scarcely  have  been  safe  had  he  been 
found  an  hour  earlier  in  the  Crow  camp,  was 
now  its  hero  and  its  idol.  To  say  that  the 
youth  was  not  elated,  would  be  to  say  that  he 
was  not  human ;  for  he  had  avenged  the 
slaughter  of  his  kindred,  and  had  overcome  the 
most  powerful  and  renowned  warrior  in  the  Mis- 
souri plains,  the  fell  destroyer  of  the  race  of 
Tamenund.  But  so  well  had  he  been  trained 
in  the  school  of  self-command,  that  neither 
Ethelston,  nor  Paul  Miiller,  who  had  known  him 
from  his  childhood,  could  trace  in  his  demean- 
our anything  different  from  its  usual  quiet  mod- 
esty ;  and  they  waited,  with  no  little  impatience, 
to  see  what  results  would  ensue  from  his  tri- 
umph in  respect  to  their  own  release. 

The  Crow  chiefs  and  warriors  did  not  forget, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  scene  just  described, 
the  threatened  attack  to  which  the  treachery  of 
Mahega  had  exposed  them  ;  and  they  now 
crowded  round  Wingenund,  while  White-Bull 
put  many  questions  to  him,  through  Besha,  re- 
specting the  position  and  apparent  numbers  of 
the  Black-feet,  to  all  which  he  answered  with  a 
precision  that  increased  the  high  opinion  that 
they  already  entertained  of  his  quickness  and 
intelligence.  White-Bull  even  condescended 
so  far  as  to  explain  to  him  his  own  projects  for 
withdrawing  his  band  from  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  formidable  Kainna  to  some  more  secure 
position.  A  slight  smile  curled  the  lip  of  the 
young  Delaware  as  he  said  to  Besha,  "The 
council  of  the  Crow  chief  does  not  seem  good 
to  Wingenund  ;  if  White-Bull  will  agree  to  his 
terms,  he  will  place  the  Kainna  chief,  and  half 
a  score  of  his  best  warriors  as  captives  in  this 
camp  before  to-morrow  at  midday  !" 

A  general  murmur  of  surprise  followed  these 
words  ;  and  White-Bull,  somewhat  nettled,  in- 
quired what  might  be  the  tenns  proposed. 

"They  are,"  said  Wingenund,  "first,  that 
the  two  white  prisoners  shall  be  immediately 
restored  to  their  friends ;  secondly,  that  the 
Osages  shall  be  given  up  to  the  Lenape  ;  third- 
ly, that  there  shall  be  peace  and  friendship  be- 
tween the  friends  of  Wingenund  and  the  Upsa- 
roka  until  the  snow  falls  again  upon  the  earth." 

The  leaders  having  conversed  apart  for  a  few 
minutes,  White-Bull  said,  "If  Wingenund  fails, 
and  the  Kainna  take  many  scalps  from  the  Up- 
saroka,  what  will  happen  then  1" 

"They  will  take  the  scalp  of  Wingenund 
.00,"  replied  the  youth  calmly. 

Again  the  Crow  chiefs  consulted  together  for 
some  time,  and  at  length  they  resolved  to  agree 
to  the  terms  proposed  by  Wingenund.  The 
medicine-pipe  was  brought,  and  was  passed 
from  the  chief  to  him,  as  well  as  to  Ethelston 
and  the  Missionary  ;  after  which  Wingenund 
s?td  to  White-Bull,  "  There  is  no  time  to  be 
lo-t, ;  let  sixty  of  the  best  warriors  be  chosen, 
tv'^3nty  to  go  with  Wingenund,  and  forty  with 
V^ite-Bull,  and  let  one  be  found,  very  large 
ai  1  tall ;  let  him  put  on  the  dress  of  Mahega  ;  j 


Wingenund  will  take  the  whistle,  and  all  will 
be  ready." 

A  short  time  sufficed  to  collect  and  marshal 
the  party ;  and  Ethelston  was,  at  his  own  earn- 
est request,  permitted  to  join  the  band  led  by 
the  Delaware  youth,  being  anxious  to  see  the 
manceuvios  about  to  take  place,  and  Besha 
having  made  himself  responsible  for  his  fidel 
ity. 

Wingenund  led  the  way  at  a  swift  pace,  un- 
til he  gained  the  summit  of  the  first  range  0/ 
hills ;  nor  did  he  slacken  it  until  he  had  crossed 
the  valley  beyond,  and  stood  upon  the  opposite 
brow  of  the  heights,  whence  the  Black-fooC 
band  was  visible.  Here  he  concealed  and  halt- 
ed  his  party,  until  he  had  crept  forward  and  ex- 
amined all  the  range  of  hills  within  sight.  As 
soon  as  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  all  was 
quiet,  he  drew  his  party  gently  on,  and  at  length 
succeeded  in  hiding  White-Bull  and  his  forty 
men  behind  some  rocks  in  the  steepest  and  nar 
rowest  part  of  the  gorge  leading  down  to  the 
glen  below.  His  quick  eye  had  noted  the  spot 
before,  and  a  more  minute  inspection  now  con- 
vinced him  that  there  was  no  other  pass  by 
which  the  enemy  could  ascend  the  height,  and 
that  a  handful  of  determined  men  might  de- 
fend it  against  ten  times  their  number. 

Having  warned  White-Bull  to  keep  his  own 
men  close,  and  to  stir  neither  hand  nor  foot 
until  he  heard  the  Lenape  war-cry,  which  was 
the  appointed  signal,  he  retreated  with  his  own 
band  of  twenty  men  to  the  point  where  the  in- 
terview between  Mahega  and  the  Black-foot 
had  taken  place,  which  was  about  forty  yards 
higher  up  the  mountain,  and  where  the  gorge 
was  almost  as  narrow  and  precipitous  as  at  the 
pass  below.  Here  he  concealed  his  men  among 
the  rocks,  and  Ethelston  primed  and  loaded 
three  rifles  which  they  had  taken  from  the 
Osages,  and  which  were  now  destined  for  the 
use  of  Wingenund  and  himself 

For  several  weary  hours  the  youth  watched 
in  vain  for  the  approach  of  the  Black-feet ;  and 
any  nerves  less  steady  than  his  own,  would 
have  been  shaken  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
disagreeable  consequences  that  might  result 
from  the  failure  of  his  plot.  He  lay,  however, 
still  and  motionless  as  the  stone  upon  which  his 
elbow  rested,  until,  just  as  the  grey  hue  of  even- 
ing was  beginning  to  steal  over  the  landscape- 
he  descried  an  Indian  slowly  ascending  the 
steep,  followed  at  a  distance  by  a  long  line  of 
warriors.  A  low  whistle  from  Wingenund 
warned  his  party  to  be  ready,  but  he  rpoved  not, 
until  the  advancing  band  were  sufficiently  near 
for  him  to  recognise  in  their  leader  the  chie* 
who  had  conferred  with  Mahega  on  the  preced- 
ing day. 

While  they  were  approaching  in  careless  se 
curity,  the  Crows  prepared  for  the  attack,  each 
man  being  provided  with  a  tough  halter  of  bi- 
son-hide, in  addition  to  his  usual  weapons  ol 
bow,  knife,  and  war-jlub,  and  the  leader  of  thb 
Black-feet  had  already  passed  the  lower  gorge, 
(where  White-Bull  and  his  party  were  conceal-  I 
ed,)  ere  he  sounded  the  signal  preconcerted 
with  Mahega.  Wingenund  immediately  replied 
by  a  fiimilar  sound  drawn  from  the  whistle 
which  he  had  secured,  desiring  at  the  same  time 
the  Ci-ow  who  wore  the  dress  of  the  slain 
Osagt?  to  show  himself  at  the  edge  of  the  roch 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


181 


&kirting  the  pass.  The  Black-foot  chiei,  «om- 
pietely  deceived,  toiled  lazily  up  the  steep  and 
narrow  ascent,  beckoning  to  his  men  to  follow  ; 
and  just  as  he  reached  the  upper  station  Win- 
genund,  seeing  that  twelve  or  fourteen  of  them 
were  now  fairly  caged  between  the  party  below 
rtnd  his  own,  leapt  from  his  concealment  upon 
the  astonished  leader  of  the  Black-feet,  and 
dealing  him  a  blow  on  the  head  that  stunned 
and  disabled  him,  shouted  aloud  the  war-cry  of 
the  Lenape. 

No  sooner  was  the  signal  uttered,  than  White- 
Bull  rushed  from  his  ambuscade,  and  seized  the 
pass  below ;  so  that  the  unfortunate  Black-feet, 
enclosed  between  the  two  parties,  panic-struck 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack,  and  the  fall  of 
their  leader,  could  neither  fight  nor  fly  ;  and  in 
spite  of  their  desperate,  but  unavailing  attempts 
at  resistance,  were  all  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  disarmed  and  securely  bound. 

Meanwhile  the  main  body  of  their  comrades 
made  a  gallant  attempt  to  force  the  lower  pass, 
but  it  was  so  stoutly  defended  by  the  Crows, 
and  was  in  itself  so  narrow  and  difficult,  that 
they  were  soon  forced  to  retire  with  loss.  Nei- 
ther could  those  who  succeeded  to  the  com- 
mand bring  them  again  to  the  attack.  The  war- 
cry  of  the  Lenape  had  never  before  been  heard 
in  these  glens,  and  the  dismayed  Black-feet 
thought  that  the  evil  spirits  were  fighting 
feigainst  them ;  while  to  increase  their  terror, 
Ethelston  and  Wingenund  ftred  two  of  the 
rifles  over  their  heads,  the  bullets  from  which 
whistled  past  them,  and  the  echoes  of  their 
report,  prolonged  by  the  rocks  and  crags  around 
died  away  at  length  like  the  muttered  thunder 
of  a  distant  storm.  Terrified  by  the  suddenness 
of  the  attack,  and  by  the  noise  of  the  fire  arms, 
ignorant  of  the  number,  position,  and  even  of 
the  nation  of  their  unexpected  assailants,  and 
fearful  that  another  manceuvre  might  cut  off 
their  retreat,  they  fled  precipitately  down  the 
mountain  side,  and  halted  not  until  they  brought 
their  tale  of  disgrace  and  disaster  into  the 
Kainna  camp. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  after  the  events 
above  narrated,  Wingenund  and  White-Bull 
stood  together  before  the  lodge  of  the  aged 
chief  of  the  Crows,  whom  the  former  addressed 
as  follows: — "My  father,  see  there  the  Kainna 
chief,  and  twelve  of  his  best  warriors  ;  they  are 
prisoners  ;  their  life  hangs  upon  my  father's 
breath  ;  the  promise  of  Wingenuod  has  not  been 
blown  away  by  the  wind." 

Besha  having  duly  translated  this  address, 
was  desired  by  the  old  chief  (whose  astonish- 
ment was  scarcely  exceeded  by  his  delight)  to 
bestow  the  highest  praise  that  he  could  express 
upon  the  young  Delaware's  skill  and  courage ; 
to  which  effusion  of  complimentary  eloquence 
he  replied,  "  My  father,  Wingenund  has  not 
Been  many  summers  ;  he  has  no  skill  in  speech, 
nor  experience  in  council ;  but  he  knows  that 
the  Great  Spirit  loves  a  single  tongue,  and  a 
true  heart.  Mahega  was  cunning  as  a  wolf, 
Bwift  as  a  deer,  strong  as  a  bison-bull ;  but 
there  was  poison  in  his  heart,  and  lies  dwelt 
under  his  tongue,  hke  snakes  under  a  smooth 
stone.  What  is  the  end  ]  The  mountain-buz- 
eards  pick  his  bones ;  and  when  his  children 
ask, — where  is  the  grave  of  Mahega  1  there 
shall  be  none  to  answer.    My  father,  when  the 


sun  has  risen,  the  treaty  shall  be  made,  the 
pipe  of  peace  shall  be  smoked,  and  the  Medicine 
of  the  White  tent  shall  bring  many  good  things 
to  the  Upsaroka." 

Having  thus  spoken,  Wingenund  retired  to 
the  lodge  of  Besha  ;  and  the  captive  Black-feet 
having  been  placed  under  a  guard,  White-Bull 
remained  in  consultation  with  his  father,  while 
the  other  warriors  soon  forgot  in  sleep  the  fa- 
tigues of  the  past  eventful  day. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

Wingenund  and  his  friends  return  towards  their  canip.- 
A  serious  adventure  and  a  serious  argument  occur  by 
the  way. — Showing,  also,  how  the  extremes  of  grief, 
surprise,  and  joy  may  be  crowded  into  the  space  of  a 
few  minutes. 

The    result   of   the    consultation    between  ' 

White-Bull  and  his  father  was,  that  the  terms 
of  the  treaty  made  with  Wingenund  should  be 
strictly  observed  ;  but  lest  the  ingenuous  reader 
should  be  misled  into  the  belief  that  this  resolu- 
tion was  influenced  by  any  considerations  of 
good  faith  or  honesty,  it  may  be  as  well  to  in- 
form him  that  the  advantages  and  disadvan- 
tages of  the  two  opposite  courses  were  die- 
cussed  with  the  most  deliberate  calculation, 
and  the  path  of  honour  was  at  length  selected 
upon  the  following  grounds  : — • 

First.  It  was  expedient  to  make  friends  with 
the  allied  band,  inasmuch  as  the  latter  were 
formidable  enemies  from  their  courage,  skill, 
and  equipment. 

Secondly.  They  had  many  bales  of  cloth,  blan- 
kets, and  other  goods,  of  which  they  would 
probably  make  liberal  presents  to  their  friends  ; 
and 

Thirdly.  The  Crows  having  just  incensed  and 
triumphed  over  their  hereditary  foes  the  Black- 
feet,  they  might  expect  reprisals  from  the  latter ; 
in  which  event,  the  alliance  of  a  band  com- 
manding upwards  of  twenty  "medicine-fire- 
weapons,"  was  not  to  be  despised. 

Having  embraced  this  resolution,  and  com- 
municated it  by  secret  messengers  to  the  prin- 
cipal braves  and  conjurers,  the  worthy  sire  and 
son  summoned  them  to  a  grand  council  on  the 
following  morning,  at  which  the  treaty  was 
ratified  in  due  form  ;  Wingenund,  Paul  Miiller, 
and  Ethelston  representing  the  allied  band,  and 
each  party  loading  the  other  with  praises  and 
compliments,  until  the  oily  tongue  of  Besha  was 
almost  weary  of  translating  and  retranslating 
their  expressions  of  mutual  amity  and  fidelity. 

The  four  unhappy  survivors  of  Mahega's  band 
were  now  brought  forward,  their  arms  being 
securely  pinioned  behind  them,  and  Besha  in« 
quired  of  Wingenund  his  wishes  concerning 
them.  It  needed  only  a  word  from  his  lips^ 
and  they  would  have  been  stabbed,  burnt,  oi 
more  slowly  tortured  to  deaih  on  the  spon. 
The  youth  looked  at  them  sternly  for  a  moment, 
and  Paul  Miiller  trembled  lest  the  vengeful  in- 
stinct of  his  race  should  guide  his  decision  ;  but 
he  replied,  "  Wingenund  will  take  them  with 
him  to  the  Lenape  camp.  War-Eagle,  Netis, 
and  the  Black  Father  shall  holil  a  council,  and 
what  they  think  best,  it  shall  b(!  done." 

Ethelstoa  Paul  Miillei;  and  Wingenund  now 


183 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


prepared  to  bid  adieu  to  their  Crow  friends,  it 
ftaving  been  agreed  that  White-Bull,  acconnpa- 
nied  by  some  of  his  principal  braves,  should 
visit  the  Delaware  camp  on  the  following  day 
to  interchange  presents,  and  confirm  the  alliance 
thus  happily  and  unexpectedly  commenced ; 
aad  as  a  further  proof  of  his  friendly  disposition, 
the  Crow  chief  permitted  Bending-willow  to 
send  a  girdle  of  delicate  fawn-skin,  adorned 
with  feathers  and  stained  quills,  to  the  "  Great 
Hedicine  of  the  white  tent." 

Wingenund  had  still  kept  possession  of  the 
three  Osage  rifles,  one  of  which  was  in  the 
hands  of  Ethelston,  and  the  other  two  he  now 
loaded,  and  offered  one  to  Paul  Miiller. 

•'  Nay,  my  son,"  said  the  Missionary,  smiling, 
"  these  hands  are  not  skilled  in  the  use  of  the 
firelock  ;  neither  do  they  desire  to  be  acquainted 
with  any  weapon  more  dangerous  than  this 
oaken  staff.  The  shedding  of  human  blood 
would  ill  beseem  a  humble  minister  of  the 
Gospel  of  Peace." 

"  The  words  of  the  Black  Father,"  said  the 
youth  respectfully,  "  are  full  of  goodness  and 
truth  ;  but  he  must  not  forget  that  the  path 
lies  over  rough  and  dangerous  places ;  that 
there  are  four  prisoners,  who  may  attempt  to 
overcome  or  escape  from'  us,  and  that  we  may 
meet  enemies  by  the  way ;  therefore  Winge- 
nund wished  to  give  the  Black  Father  a  wea- 
pon to  defend  himself" 

"  The  motive  my  son,  was  natural  and  blame- 
less ;  nevertheless,  I  purpose  to  abstain  from 
handling  any  deadly  weapon,  and  to  entrust 
my  personal  safety  to  Him  who  has  so  mar- 
vellously preserved  us  through  trials,  captivity, 
and  dangers  innumerable.  My  children,"  con- 
tinued the  worthy  man  in  the  English  tongue, 
"  before  we  depart  hence  to  revisit  ourfriends, 
.et  us  together  thank  God  for  the  great  mer- 
cies shown  unto  us  ;  let  us  implore  his  fur- 
ther protection  for  ourselves  and  all  dear  to  us  ; 
and  let  us  humbly  entreat  Him,  in  His  own 
good  time,  to  soften,  turn,  and  enlighten  the 
hearts  of  those  benighted  children  of  the  wil- 
derness, so  that  they  may  hereafter,  with  us, 
be  brought  to  His  heavenly  kingdom." 

As  he  said  these  words  the  venerable  Mis- 
sionary dropped  upon  his  knees,  Ethelston  and 
Wingenund  kneeling  beside  him,  while  he  utter- 
ed a  fervent  prayer,  which  embraced,  in  simple 
yet  eloquent  language,  all  the  objects  above  al- 
luded to. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  Crows  at  the 
attitude  of  the  three,  and  their  sudden  abstrac- 
tion from  all  that  was  passing  around,  but  Besha 
having  whispered  to  the  chief  that  they  were 
talking  to  the  Great  Spirit,  he  made  a  signal  that 
profound  silence  should  be  observed,  fearful  that 
if  they  were  disturbed  or  anyways  annoyed, 
they  would  invoke  evil  upon  himself  and  his  tribe. 

The  prayer  was  concluded,  and  they  were 
about  paying  their  farewell  salutations  to  the 
chiefs,  when  the  low  wailing  of  a  female  voice 
from  an  adjoining  lodge  caught  the  Missionary's 
ear, — an  ear  to  which  the  accents  of  distress 
ever  found  immediate  entrance.  Having  desir- 
ed Besha  to  enquire  into  the  cause  of  her  com- 
jilaint,  he  learnt  that  she  was  the  wife  of  the  man 
who  had  been  struck  down  by  Mahega's  war- 
Hub,  after  it  had  grazed  the  cheek  of  Winge- 
nund and  that  her  husband  was  now  lying  in  a 


state  of  great  misery  and  suffering.  In  spite  ol 
a  gesture  of  impatience  from  the  Delaware 
youth,  whose  feet  burned  to  be  upon  the  home- 
ward path,  the  Missionary  approached  the  suf- 
ferer, and  carefully  examined  his  condition.  Ho 
found  tkat  the  bones  of  the  broken  arm  had  been 
joined  with  tolerable  skill  and  success,  acd  that 
it  was  well  secured  by  bandages  to  a  straight 
splinter  of  pine-wood,  but  whether  owing  to  the 
roughness  of  the  treatment,  or  the  pain  he  had 
undergone,  he  was  now  in  a  high  and  dangerous 
state  of  fever.  The  Missionary  had  still  con- 
cealed in  his  girdle  a  small  bag,  containing, 
among  other  medicines,  a  few  powders  exact- 
ly adapted  to  the  emergency  ;  of  these  he  mix- 
ed one  with  a  little  water,  and  having  given  it 
to  his  patient,  left  another  with  Besha,  desiring 
that  it  might  be  administered  at  noon,  and  that 
no  meat  should  be  given  to  him  until  the  follow- 
ing day.  "  With  these  remedies,  and  with 
the  blessing  of  the  Great  Spirit,"  said  he,  as  he 
retired,  "  the  man  will  soon  be  well." 

"  Did  I  understand  rightly,"  said  Ethelston 
to  Wingenund,  "  that  White-Bull  comes  over 
to-morrow  with  his  braves  to  complete  the 
treaty  with  us,  aud  exchange  presents." 

"  It  is  so  settled,"  replied  the  youth. 

"  Would  it  not  then  be  better  to  let  him  and 
his  men  bring  with  them  the  Crow  prisoners, 
they  are  four  desperate  men,  and  only  we  two 
are  armed  ;  if  they  mutiny  by  the  way,  we  sha.1 
be  obliged  to  shoot  them  in  self-defence." 

"  My  brother  does  not  know  the  Washashe 
and  the  Upsaroka,"  said  Wingenund,  smiling 
"both  of  them  love  the  Pale-faces  and  the  Le- 
nape  as  the  wolf  loves  the  deer.  No,  my  broth- 
er, let  the  prisoners  go  with  us  ;  our  eyes  must 
be  open  ;  if  they  try  to  run  away  or  do  us  harm, 
the  rifle  must  keep  them  quiet." 

The  youth  spoke  these  words  in  a  low,  deter- 
mined tone,  and  Ethelston  feeling  that  he  could 
not  gainsay  their  truth,  listened  while  Wingenund 
repeated  the  warning  to  the  Osages  in  their 
own  tongue,  informing  them  that  if  they  made 
the  slightest  attempt  at  escape,  or  demonstra- 
tion of  violence  by  the  way,  they  would  be  in- 
stantly shot ;  a  sullen  and  silent  inclination  of 
the  head,  signifying  that  he  was  understood, 
was  the  only  reply  ;  and  once  more  greeting 
their  Crow  allies,  the  little  party  moved  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  Delaware  camp,  Wingenund 
leading  the  way,  with  a  loaded  rifle  in  his  hand, 
the  B^ack-foot  bow  and  quiver  slung  at  his  back, 
and  a  knife  and  pistol  taken  from  one  of  the 
Osages,  being  fastened  in  his  girdle  ;  next  came 
the  four  prisoners,  with  their  arms  still  pinioned, 
but  their  legs  entirely  at  liberty ;  Paul  Miiller 
and  Ethelston  brought  up  the  rear  ;  the  latter 
carrying  two  loaded  rifles,  one  in  his  hand,  and 
the  other  slung  over  his  shoulder. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  morning,  the  grey 
mists  had  arisen  from  the  valley  and  curled  in 
spiral  folds  round  the  rugged  and  precipitous 
rocks  that  frowned  above  it.  Short  and  scant 
as  was  the  herbage,  still  as  it  glistened  in  ine 
early  dew  and  hung  forth  its  diamond  drops  in 
the  sun,  it  imparted  a  touch  of  sweetness  to 
scenery,  the  dreary  barrenness  of  which  might 
otherwise  have  oppressed  the  mind  of  the  trav- 
eller with  a  feeling  of  desolation.  Never,  per- 
haps, over  that,  or  over  any  other  mountain 
1  track  passed  a  lighter  foot  or  a  more  rejoicing 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


183 


heart  than  that  of  our  young  friend  Wingenund. 
The  dreams  of  boyhood,  dreams  that  a  few 
weeks  ago  he  had  himself  deemed  visionary,  or 
at  least  remote,  were  already  accomplished  ;  he 
had  won  the  gold  spurs  of  Indian  chivalry ;  in 
the  dance,  or  the  council,  or  the  field,  neither 
envy  nor  detraction  could  now  forbid  his  mix- 
ing with  the  braves  and  warriors  of  his  tribe  ; 
and  his  heart  exulted  within  him  as  he  thought 
of  presenting  to  Netisand  War-Eagle  the  scalp 
of  their  arch  enemy,  the  insolent  captor  of  Prai- 
rie-bird, the  great  warrior  of  the  Osages,  slain 
by  his  own  hand.  These  were  feelings  which 
the  boy-hero  could  share  with  none,  for  with 
Ethelston  he  was  as  yet  little  acquainted,  and 
Paul  Miiller  he  knew  to  be  averse  to  all  thoughts 
of  strife  and  conflict ;  still  the  feelings  arose 
unchecked  and  unrepressed  within  his  bosom 
when  he  remembered  the  name  by  which  he  was 
called,  the  deeds  of  those  who  had  borne  it  be- 
fore him  ;  and  mingled  with  these  memories  of 
the  past  came  the  proud  reflection,  that  where- 
ever  the  Delaware  tongue  w_asyet  spoken  among 
the  scattered  bands  of  the  Ancient  People  on  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri  and  Ohio,  of  Susquehana 
and  Miami,  the  song  of  Lenape  warrior  and  Le- 
nape  maiden  would  tell  how  the  scourge  of  their 
tribe,  Mahega,  the  Bloody-hand,  had  been  slain 
by  Wingenund,  the  brother  of  War-Eagle  ! 

The  events  of  the  preceding  days  had  been  to 
the  youth  the  realized  romance  of  his  life,  and 
as  he  strode  along  the  mountain-side,  he  felt  as 
if  his  expanded  chest  were  a  world  too  narrow 
for  the  high  emotions  that  swelled  within  it. 

Perhaps  it  may  seem  unnatural  to  the  reader 
that  amidst  all  the  excitement  of  awakened 
hope,  ambition,  and  exultation,  tlie  youth  for- 
got not  for  a  moment  the  perils  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  It  is  our  business  to  describe 
the  Indian  character,  not  as  it  might  be,  if  de- 
signed "  to  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a  tale," 
but  as  it  is,  with  all  those  lights  and  shades 
which  distinguish  it  from  that  of  white,  men  ; 
and  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features — one, 
which  has  also  escaped  the  observation  of  thos^ 
writers  who  are  chiefly  quoted  as  authority  on 
this  subject — is  that  power  of  reserved  abstrac- 
tion which  the  mind  of  the  Indian  acquires  as  a 
result  of  an  early  and  constant  habit  of  control 
over  the  will.  Thus,  during  the  wildest  flight 
of  his  imagination,  and  the  highest  aspirations 
of  his  ambitious  hopes,  under  an  excitement 
which  would  have  rendered  an  English  youth  of 
his  years  blind,  and  deaf,  and  careless  for  a  mo- 
ment of  all  that  was  passing  around,  the  quick 
eye  of  Wingenund  roved  with  incessant  motion 
from  hill  to  vale,  embracing  every  hollow  that 
might  contain  an  ambush,  and  every  crag  near 
his  path  that  nwght  give  shelter  to  a  foe. 

Ethelston  conversed  little  with  the  Mission- 
ary, for  there  was  a  thought  which  lay  close  to 
his  heart,  and  made  its  pulses  throb  more  quick- 
ly at  every  step  that  he  made  towards  the  Del- 
aware camp.  Already  they  were  within  a  few 
miles  of  it  when,  in  passing  a  streamlet  that 
flowed  across  their  path,  Wingenund  suddenly 
turned  and  proposed  to  his  companions  to  re- 
I'te&h  themselves  with  a  drink. 

Passing  the  Osages,  he  came  back  to  Ethel- 
ston, ar.d  said  to  him,  while  the  Missionary  filled 
a  small  tin  cup  with  water,  "  My  brother's  eyes 
have  been  shut,  let  him  be  ready  now ;  one  of 


the  prisoners  is  free,  and  iias  almost  cut  the 
bands  of  a  second." 

Accustomed  to  dangers  and  emergencies, 
Ethelston  did  not  start,  nor  take  any  outward 
notice  of  the  young  Delaware's  observations, 
but  he  replied,  "  It  is  true,  I  have  been  heed- 
less, but  it  is  not  too  late  to  repair  the  error; 
seize  hira  while  he  is  drinking ;  I  will  secure 
the  others ;  do  not  take  life,  if  it  can  be  avoided." 

Wingenund  took  the  hint  and  carried  the  cup 
round,  ofl'ering  a  draught  to  each  of  the  pinioned 
Osages,  without  appearing  to  notice  the  severed 
thong  hanging  from  the  wrist  of  the  one  who 
had  freed  himself 

Thus  thrown  off  his  guard,  and  thinking  he 
was  unsuspected,  the  Osage  stooped  to  drink 
from  the  cup,  when  Wingenund  seized  him  with 
his  left  hand,  and,  presenting  a  pistol  to  his 
breast,  said  to  him,  in  his  own  tongue,  "  If  you 
stir,  you  die."         €> 

Reckless  of  consequences,  and  despairing  of 
mercy  in  the  Delaware  camp,  the  fierce  Osage 
sprang  upon  the  youth,  and  strove  to  wrench 
the  pistol  from  his  grasp.  Being  a  powerful 
man,  he  might  have  succeeded  in  the  attempt, 
had  not  a  blow  from  the  butt  end  of  Ethelston's 
rifle  laid  hira  stunned  and  prostrate  on  the 
ground. 

The  three  other  prisoners,  seeing  their  com- 
rade's helpless  condition,  ceased  from  the  vio- 
lent efforts  which  they  had  been  making  to  free 
themselves,  and  by  the  time  that  he  had  recov- 
■  ered  from  the  effects  of  the  blow,  his  arms  were 
pinioned  more  strongly  than  before,  anl  the 
thongs  by  which  the  others  were  fastened  were 
re-examined  and  secured. 

While  engaged  in  this  operation,  Wingenund 
showed  to  Ethelston  a  sharp  flint  with  which 
the  Osage  had  cut  his  own  bands,  and  had  be- 
gun to  separate  those  of  his  next  comrade  in 
the  line  of  march ;  a  few  minutes  more,  and 
his  hands  would  also  have  been  free,  in  which 
case  the  task  of  our  two  friends  would  not  have 
proved  so  easy. 

Ethelston  well  understood  Wingenund'3 
meaning,  as  the  latter  showed  him  the  half- 
cut  thong  on  the  wrist  of  the  second  Indian, 
and  he  said,  "  I  confess  I  was  blind,  my  young 
friend,  and  am  ashamed  of  myself;  you  wiU 
have  but  a  low  opinion  of  ray  talents  as  a  war- 
rior." 

"  My  brother's  eye  may  have  wandered  a  lit- 
tle," replied  the  youth,  smiling,  "  because  he  is 
not  skilled  in  the  Washashe  tricks ;  but  his 
heart  is  in  the  right  place,  and  his  hand  knows 
how  to  strike ;  a  few  suns  will  rise  and  set  be- 
fore the  skull  of  that  dog  forgets  what  my  broth- 
er bestowed  upon  it." 

"  It  was  time  to  strike  hard,  because  I  did 
not  wish  to  strike  twice.  As  I  had  requested 
you  not  to  shoot,  I  felt  that  I  had  made  myself 
answerable  for  your  safety,  and  if  that  second 
fellow  had  succeeded  in  freeing  his  hands,  we 
might  have  had  some  troublesome  work  of  it. 
But  tell  me,  Wingenund,  how  did  you,  while 
walking  in  Iront,  discover  what  was  passing 
behind  you  1" 

"  The  Osage  told  me  himself,"  replied  the 
youth,  again  smiling. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  for  assuredly  he 
never  spoke." 

"  Not  with  his  tongue,  but  plainly  enough  with 


184 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


his  face.  I  looked  round  once  or  twice,  and  my 
eye  met  his  ;  I  saw  there  was  mischief,  for  he 
looked  too  good.  When  I  passed  to  ask  you 
for  the  cup,  I  looked  again,  quickly,  but  closer, 
and  saw  that  his  hands  were  free,  though  he 
Kept  them  together  as  before." 

Ethelston  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  the 
youtlrs  notion  of  the  ill-favoured  Osage  "  look- 
ng  too  good,"  but  feeling  both  amused  and  in- 
crested  by  his  replies,  he  again  said,  "  I  must 
own  my  admiration  of  your  quick-sightedness, 
for  doubtless  the  Osage  tried  to  make  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  deceive  you." 

"  He  has  not  the  face  of  an  Indian  warrior," 
said  the  youth,  scornfully.  "  "When  a  deed  is  to 
be  done  or  concealed,  let  my  brother  try  and 
read  it  in  the  face  of  War-Eagle,  or  any  great 
chief  of  the  Lenape  !  As  well  might  he  strive  to 
count  the  stones  in  the  deenest  channel  of  the 
great  Muddy  River,*  or  th*stars  of  heaven  in 
a  cloudy  night !" 

The  party  had  now  struck  a  broad  trail,  lead- 
ing across  the  valley,  and  up  the  opposite  height, 
in  the  direction  of  the  Delaware  camp  ;  the 
Osage  prisoners  were  therefore  sent  to  the 
front,  and  ordered  to  march  forward  on  the  trail, 
by  which  means  Wingenund  enjoyed  the  ad- 
vantage of  watching  their  movements,  while  he 
continued  to  converse  with  his  friends. 

"I  own,"  said  Ethelston,  "that  I  had  not  be- 
fore considered  a  command  over  the  muscles 
of  the  countenance  as  being  a  matter  of  so 
much  importance  in  the  character  of  an  Indian 
warrior." 

"  Nevertheless  the  youth  is  right  in  what  he 
says,"  replied  Paul  Miiller.  "  Where  cunning 
and  artifice  are  so  often  resorted  to,  a  natural 
and  unconcerned  air  of  candour  is  an  admirable 
shield  of  defence  :  the  quickness  of  sight  which 
you  lately  observed  in  Wingenund,  is  a  heredi- 
tary quality  in  his  race.  The  grandfather  Ta- 
menund  was  so  celebrated  for  it,  that  he  was 
called  by  a  name  signifying,  '  The  man  who  has 
eyes  in  his  back :'  he  was  killed  only  twenty 
years  ago,  during  the  fierce  irruption  made  by  a 
band  of  the  five  nations  into  the  valley  of  Wyo- 
ming, to  which  the  old  man  had  retired  in  the 
hope  of  closing  his  eyes  in  peace." 

"I  have  heard  of  that  tragedy,"  said  Ethels- 
ton ;  "  indeed,  it  occurred  while  I  was  at  school 
on  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum  ;  and  often,  as 
the  boys  went  or  returned,  they  used  to  frighten 
each  other  with  cries  of  'The  Indians  !'  but  I 
have  since  been  much  absent  from  my  own 
country,  and  never  rightly  understood  who  were 
the  actors  in  that  scene  of  terror,  and  what 
were  the  tribes  usually  known  by  the  name  of 
the  Six  Nations,  for  so  I  have  always  heard 
them  called." 

"  There  were  in  fact  only  five,"  replied  the 


*  The  Missouri  is  here  alluded  to,  the  ancient  name  of 
which,  "  Pekitanoiii,"  sifjnifies  "  muddy  water,"  in  the 
language  of  the  Illinois,  once  a  mosft  powerful  tribe,  dwell- 
ing near  its  confluence  with  the  Mississippi.  They  have 
Bince  given  a  name  to  one  of  the  states  of  the  Union,  but 
not  one  of  the  tribe  survives  at  this  day.  Some  anliqua- 
finns  think  that  they  were  formerly  a  branch  of  tlie  great 
nation  of  the  Delawares  (a  supposition  confinnod  by  the 
resemblance  of  their  name,  Il-lcnni,  to  that  of  the  Lenni 
— Lenap*) ;  one  half  of  which  remained  on  the  great 
prairies  bordering  the  Mississippi,  while  the  other  half 
overran,  and  finally  occupied,  the  greater  portion  of 
country  between  the  (y»o  auA  Uip  AUantW'  -~S«»  ^;^a-le- 


Missionary  ;  "  for  although  the  Tnscaroras  join- 
ed the  confederation,  they  did  not  originally  be- 
long to  it.  These  five  are  known  among  white 
men  by  the  following  names  :  the  Mohawks, 
Oneidas,  Cayugas,  Onondagas,  and  Senecas; 
and  it  was  a  band  of  the  latter  that  made  the 
irruption  into  the  valley  of  Wyoming.  I  dare 
say  that  Wingenund  knows  more  of  them  than 
I  do,  for  he  often  heard  Tamenund  speak  of 
them,  and  he  knew  their  history  like  the  tra- 
ditions of  his  own  tribe." 

"  Wingenund  has  not  forgotten,"  replied  the 
youth,  "  what  his  grandfather  taught  him  con- 
cerning the  Five  Nations.  The  names  spoken 
by  the  Black  Father  are  those  commonly  given 
them  ;  but  they  call  themselves  otherwise." 

"  Tell  me,  Wingenund,"  said  Ethelston,  "the 
names  by  which  they  are  known  among  them- 
selves?" 

"  The  Mohawks  are  called  Coningionah  ;  the 
Oneidas,  Oni-eut-kah — or,  '  The  people  of  the 
standing-stone  ;'  the  Cayugas,  Senanda  Wanan- 
du-nah — '  The  people  of  the  great  pipe ;'  the 
Onondagas,  Nundagekah — '  People  of  the  small 
hill ;'  the  Senecas,  Nundawa-gah — '  People  of 
the  big  hill.'  But  the  council  name  of  the  last 
is  different." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  council  name  1" 

"  Many  of  the  nations  have  more  than  one 
name ;  and  the  council  name  is  never  spoken 
except  by  the  chiefs  and  wise  men  in  council  ; 
the  women  and  boys  seldom  know  it ;  and,  if 
they  do,  they  must  not  speak  it." 

"  Did  Tamenund  tell  you  the  council  name  of 
the  Senecas  V 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  Oni-hoout — '  Those  who  shut  the 
door ;'  because  the  Senecas  live  the  furthest  to 
the  southwest,  and  guard  the  others  from  the 
approach  of  their  enemies."* 

"  It  always  appeared  to  me,"  said  Ethelston, 
turning  to  the  Missionary,  "  that  the  variety 
and  arbitrary  alteration  of  Indian  names  pre- 
sent an  insuperable  barrier  in  the  way  of  any 
inquiry  into  their  national  or  local  history." 

"  Certainly,  my  son ;  the  difficulty  is  great, 
and  proceeds  from  various  causes  : — First,  be- 
cause it  is  frequently,  perhaps  generally,  the 
case  among  Indian  nations,  that  the  son  takes 
the  name  of  the  mother,  and  not,  as  with  us, 
that  of  the  father.  Secondly,  there  often  are, 
as  you  have  just  learnt  from  Wingenund,  two 
or  three  names  by  which  the  same  person  or 
tribe  is  designated.  Thirdly,  nothing  is  more 
common  than  for  a  warrior  to  receive  a  new 
name  from  any  daring  or  remarkable  feat  that 
he  may  have  performed,  in  which  case  his  for- 
mer name  is  dropped,  and  soon  forgotten  :  and, 
lastly,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  we,  Ameri- 
cans, Germans,  and  English,  have  obtained  the 
greater  part  of  our  Indian  nomenclature,  both 

*  These,  and  many  other  particulars  respecting  the  Sis 
Nations,  the  author  had  from  the  lipa  of  a  veteran,  who 
WHS  carried  off  as  a  child  by  the  Senecas  when  they 
sacked  Wyoming.  He  was  adopted  into  their  tribe,  and 
lived  with  them  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  during  a  por- 
tion of  which  he  acted  for  them  in  the  capacity  of  inter- 
preter and  Indian  agent:  afterwards  he  retired  to  spend  a 
vigorous  and  green  old  age  in  the  western  part  of  the  stat« 
of  New  York.  He  always  spoke  with  affectionate  en- 
thusiasm of  his  adopted  kindred,  and  it  was  easy  to  seo 
tliat  the  white  man'.s  blood  in  his  veins  circulated  through 
an  Indian  heart.  Those  who  wish  to  know  more  of  the 
early  history  of  the  Five  Nations,  are  referred  to  the  ac 
cuiat<t  &a(S.imeie&tiug  accouut  ^ive'^.  (>f  ihein  hv  C!olden 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


185 


as  to  persons  and  places,  from  the  French ; 
who,  in  the  various  capacities  of  possessors, 
adventurers,  missionaries,  voyageurs,  hunters, 
and  interpreters,  have  overrun  almost  the  whole 
of  this  continent  before  us." 

"  Is  it,  then,  your  opinion  that  the  French 
travellers  and  writers  from  whom  these  names 
have  been  chiefly  derived,  have  been  very 
careless  and  inaccurate  in  their  transcription 
of  them  1" 

"  Extremely  so.  When  they  first  reached 
and  descended  the  Mississippi,  they  called  it  the 
'  Colbert ;'  afterwards  on  finding  what  a  mag- 
nificent river  it  became  when  it  received  the 
waters  of  the  Missouri,  they  called  it  '  La  ri- 
viere St.  Louis,'  by  which  name  it  was  known 
for  many  years,  until  insensibly  it  recovered  its 
Indian  appellation.  When  the  adventurers 
came  to  any  unknown  tribe,  they  called  them 
by  some  name  descriptive  of  the  accidental  cir- 
cumstances under  which  they  first  saw  them, 
and  these  names  they  have  ever  since  retain- 
ed. Thus,  the  Winnebagoes  in  the  north  hap- 
pened, when  first  visited,  to  be  drying  fish  in 
their  camp,  and  thence  obtained  the  pleasant 
name  by  which  they  are  now  known,  '  Les  Pu- 
ans  !'  Another  band,  some  of  whom  had  ac- 
cidentally been  scorched,  by  the  prairie  and  un- 
derwood near  their  encampment  taking  fire, 
have  ever  since  been  called  '  Les  Bois-brules ;' 
another,  *  Les  Gros  Ventres.'*  The  Dahcotah 
nation  they  have  called  '  Les  Sioux  ;'  the  Ari- 
cara,  '  Les  Ris  ;'  and  so  forth,  until  it  is  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  recognize  any  of  the  origi- 
nal Indian  names  under  their  French  disguise." 

"  I  grant  this,"  said  Ethelston.  "  Yet  we 
must  not  forget  that  the  English  have  in  sever- 
al instances  laid  themselves  open  to  the  same 
charge  ;  otherwise  the  great  nation  to  which 
our  young  friend  belongs  would  not  have  been 
called  after  a  Norman  baron  !  But  you  will 
surely  allow  that  the  early  French  missionaries 
in  North  America  were  men  of  great  piety, 
learning,  and  enterprise!" 

"  It  is  true,  my  son,  many  of  them  were  so  ; 
and  none  can  feel  more  grateful  than  I  do  to 
such  of  them  as  laboured  sincerely  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Gospel.  Yet  I  am  bound  to  say, 
that  in  the  best  authorised  account  which  they 
sent  to  France  from  Natchez  of  the  surround- 
ing country,!  there  is  so  much  pedantry,  preju- 
dice, and  fancy,  mingled  with  highly  interest- 
ing information,  that  the  book  cannot  be  quo- 
ted as  one  possessing  historical  authority.  A 
writer  who  gravely  infers  that  the  Mississippi 
Indians  came  from  the  north-eastern  straits, 
from  the  inentity  of  the  Ghoctaws  wit"h  the  peo- 
ple of  Kamchakta  (or  Royaume  des  Chactas), 
must  expect  that  some  of  his  other  arguments 
and  speculations  should  be  received  with  dif- 
fidence.— But  see,  we  have  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  this  range,  and  Wingenund's  sparkling 
eye  is  already  fixed  upon  the  tent  of  Prairie- 
bird." 

"  There  it  is  !"  said  the  youth  ;  "  They  have 
moved  it  since  I  came  away,  and  placed  it  on 
ihat  point  nearer  the  stream." 

Little  did  he  suspect  what  had  occurred  du- 
ring his  brief  absence,  as,  with  a  foot  light  and 
elastic  as  his  heart,  he  put  himself  at  the  head 


*  The  Minnetareea. 

'  The  celebrated  '  I^ettres  Edifiantea." 


of  his  little  party,  and  led  the  way  swiftly  to- 
wards  the  camp. 

As  the  party  drew  near  the  camp  they  fell  in 
with  the  out-piquet  on  guard  in  that  quarter, 
consisting  of  one  of  the  Delaware  braves  and 
two  of  his  men,  to  whom  Wingenund  entrusted 
his  Osage  prisoners,  adding,  "Give  them  water 
and  food,  but  let  them  not  escape." 

The  brave  look  full  in  the  face  of  the  youth, 
then  his  eye  roved  from  the  scalp  at  his  belt  to 
the  pinioned  Osages,  and  a  grim  smile  played 
across  his  features  ;  but  they  almost  instantly 
relapsed  into  the  grave  and  gloomy  expression 
that  they  had  before  worn  ;  not  another  word 
was  spoken,  and  the  three  passed  on  towards 
the  white  tent.  As  they  drew  near,  they  saw 
a  group  of  hunters,  among  whom  were  Pierre 
and  Bearskin,  sitting  round  a  smouldering  fire, 
some  smoking,  and  others  engaged  in  mending 
their  moccasins  or  cleaning  their  pistols  and 
rifles.  There  was  neither  joke  nor  song  amongst 
them  ;  and  although  they  started  up  to  welcome 
their  rescued  and  returning  friends,  the  latter 
perceived  that  something  was  wrong,  and  it 
was  with  aching  and  foreboding  hearts  that 
they  returned  the  friendly  greeting,  and  passed 
onward  towards  the  tent,  before  which  they 
saw  Reginald  and  Baptiste  in  earnest  conver- 
sation. 

Reginald  no  sooner  saw  them,  than  he  sprang 
forward  to  embrace  Ethelston,  exclaiming,  "  God 
be  praised  for  this  great  and  unexpected  com- 
fort 1"  • 

E'thelston  looked  in  his  friend's  face  ;  and  its 
expression  confirming  his  apprehensions,  his 
lip  grew  pale  and  trembled ;  he  gasped  for 
breath,  as,  pressing  Reginald's  hand  within  his 
own,  he  said,  "  Speak — speak  !  tell  me  what  has 
happened  V  then  pointing  to  the  tent,  he  added, 
"  Is  she  safe  ? — is  she  well  V 

"  She  is  safe — she  is  well !"  replied  PwCginald ; 
"  Nevertheless — " 

Ethelston  heard  no  more,  but  a  deep  groan 
relieved  the  oppression  of  his  heart,  as  he  ejac- 
ulated, "  Blessed  be  the  God  of  Mercies  !"  and 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  stood  for  a 
moment  in  silence. 

Reginald  was  surprised  at  this  extraordinary 
emotion  in  his  friend,  usually  so  composed  and 
calm,  and  at  the  deep  interest  that  he  took  ia 
one  whom,  although  betrothed  to  his  intended 
brother-in-law,  he  had  not  yet  seen.  But  ha 
added,  gravely,  "  God  knows,  my  dear  friend, 
that  my  gratitude  is  not  less  fervent  than  yours. 
Precious  as  her  life  is,  it  has  however  been  ran- 
somed at  a  price  dearer  to  me  than  aught  else 
on  earth  besides  herself.  Wingenund,"  he 
continued,  addressing  the  youth  and  affection- 
ately taking  his  hand,  "  you  are  the  son  of  a 
race  of  heroes ;  is  your  heart  firm  1  are  you 
prepared  to  suffer  the  griefs  that  the  Great 
Spirit  thinks  fit  to  sendl" 

The  youth  raised  his  dark  eyes  to  the  speak- 
er's face  ;  and  subduing  by  a  powerful  effort 
the  prescient  agony  of  his  soul,  he  said  in  d 
low  tone,  "  Let  Netis  speak  on  ;  the  ears  oi " 
Wingenund  are  ready  to  hear  what  the  Great 
Spirit  has  sent." 

"  Dear  Wingenund,  alas  !  War-Eagle,  our  be^ 
loved  brother  is — " 

"  Dead !"  interrupted  the  youth  letting  tht 
butt  of  his  rifle  fall  heavily  to  the  ground. 


186 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


"  Nay,  not  yet  dead,  perhaps  worse  than  dead ; 
for  he  is  hurt  beyond  all  hope  of  cure,  yet  suf- 
fers torture  such  as  none  but  himself  could  en- 
«^re  without  complaint." 

It  was  tearful  for  those  who  stood  by  to 
witness  the  agonising  struggle  of  emotions  that 
convulsed  the  frame  of  the  young  Delaware 
on  receiving  this  announcement ;  for  War-Ea- 
gle had  been  to  him  not  only  a  brother,  but 
father,  companion,  and  friend,  the  object  on 
whom  all  the  affections  of  his  young  heart  had 
been  concentrated  with  an  intensity  almost 
idolatrous  ;  yet  even  in  the  extremity  of  an- 
guish he  forgot  not  the  rude  yet  high  philoso- 
phy of  hi-s  race  and  nature  ;  he  could  not  bear 
that  any  human  eye  should  witness  his  weak- 
ness, or  that  any  white  man  should  be  able  to 
say  that  Wingenund,  the  last  of  the  race  of 
Tamenund,  had  succumbed  to  suffering.  Ter- 
rible was  the  internal  conflict ;  and  while  it 
was  yet  uncertain  how  it  might  end,  his  hand 
accidentally  rested  upon  his  belt,  and  his  fingers 
closed  upon  the  scalp  of  Mahega  ;  instantly,  as 
if  by  magic,  the  grief  of  the  loving  brother  was 
crushed  by  the  stoic  pride  of  the  Indian  war- 
rior. 

"  War-Eagle  is  not  dead  ;  his  eyes  shall  look 
upon  the  scalp  of  his  great  enemy  slain  by  the 
hand  which  he  first  taught  to  use  a  bow ;  and 
when  he  goes  to  the  hunting-fields  of  the  brave, 
our  fathers  may  ask  him,  '  Where  is  the  scalp 
of  the  destroyer  of  our  race  V  "  Such  were  the 
thoughts  that  shot  like  wild-fire  through  the 
brain  and  through  the  breast  of  the  young  Dela- 
ware, as,  with  a  countenance  almost  haughty  in 
its  expression,  he  drew  up  his  graceful  form  to 
its  full  height,  saying,  "Where  is  War-Eagle  ! 
Wingenund  would  see  him.  Let  the  Black 
Father  go  too ;  perhaps  his  healing  skill  might 
avail." 

"  I  will  not  deceive  you,  dear  Wingenund ;  no 
human  skill  can  avail  our  departing  friend.  He 
is  now  within  the  tent ;  Prairie-bird  watched 
with  him  all  the  night ;  she  spoke  to  him  often 
words  from  God's  own  book,  and  they  seemed 
to  comfort  him,  for  he  smiled,  and  said  he  would 
gladly  hear  more.  She  has  retired  to  take  a  few 
hours'  sleep,  then  she  will  return  and  resume 
her  sad  but  endearing  task." 

"  Wingenund  will  go  to  him  ;  but  first  let  No- 
tts say  whence  the  wounds  of  War-Eagle  came. 
Have  enemies  been  near  the  camp  1" 

With  the  eloquence  of  deep  feeling  Reginald 
briefly  related  the  circumstances  attending  War- 
Eagle's  devoted  and  heroic  defence  of  Prairie- 
bird  from  the  bears. 

Ethelston  and  Paul  Miiiler  listened  with  sus- 
pended breath,  and  as  he  concluded  exclaimed 
together,  "Noble,  brave,  and  generous  War- 
Eagle!"  while  the  youth,  pressing  his  lips  to- 
gether as  if  steeling  his  breast  against  softer 
impressions,  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  'Twas  well 
done ;  few  are  the  warriors  whose  single  knife 
has  reached  the  heart  of  a  grisly  bear.  Let  us 
go  on  to  the  tent." 

Reginald  led  the  way,  and,  lifting  the  flap,  en- 
tered, followed  by  Ethelston,  Wingenund,  and 
Paul  Miiiler. 

The  chief  was  seated  in  the  centre,  propped 
by  bales  of  cloth  and  fur ;  his  sunken  eye  was 
closed  from  sleeplessness  and  exhaustion,  and 
a  blanket  loosely  thrown  over  his  shoulders, 


covered  the  ema elated  remains  of  his  once 
powerful  and  athletic  frame.  At  his  side  lay 
his  favourite  pipe,  his  war-club,  knife,  and  rifle  ; 
while  the  faithful  Lita,  stretched  at  his  feet, 
strove  in  vain  to  restore  their  natural  warmth, 
by  applying  to  them  hot  stones  enveloped  in  the 
shreds  of  a  blanket,  which  she  had  torn  up  for 
the  purpose.  The  entrance  of  the  party  was 
not  unmarked  by  the  wounded  chief,  and  a  smile 
passed  over  his  wasted  features  when  he  un- 
closed his  eyes,  and  recognised  Wingenund  and 
the  two  others  whom  he  had  rescued  fiom  the 
Crows. 

"  The  Black  Father  is  welcome,"  he  said,  m 
a  faint  but  cheerful  voice,  "  and  so  is  the  friend 
of  Net  is ;  and  War-Eagle  is  glad  to  see  the  face 
of  his  brother  Wingenund." 

We  have  seen  how  the  youth  had,  by  a  des- 
perate effort,  nerved  himself  to  bear,  without 
giving  way,  the  description  of  his  brother's 
wounds  and  hopeless  condition  ;  yet,  when  the 
feeble  tones  of  that  loved  voice  thrilled  upon  his 
ear,  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the  wasted  frame, 
and  when  he  saw  written  upon  that  noble  coun- 
tenance proofs  not  to  be  mistaken,  of  torture 
endured,  and  death  approaching,  the  string 
which  had  refused  to  be  relaxed  started  asun 
der,  and  he  fell  senseless  to  the  ground,  while  a 
stream  of  blood  gushed  frdm  his  mouth. 

Half-raising  himself  by  the  aid  of  his  yet  un- 
wounded  arm,  War-Eagle  made  a  vain  effort  to 
move  towards  his  young  brother,  and  his  eye 
shone  with  something  of  its  former  eager  lustre, 
as  he  said,  in  a  voice  louder  than  he  was  deeoi 
ed  capable  of  uttering,  "  Let  the  Black  Father 
lend  his  aid  and  skill  to  the  youth ;  he  is  the 
last  leaf  on  the  Unimi  branch ;  dear  is  his  blood 
to  the  Lenape." 

"  Dearer  to  none  than  to  me,"  said  the  Mis- 
sionary, raising  and  supporting  the  unconscious 
youth,  "  for  to  him  I  owe  my  liberty,  perhaps 
my  life.  'Tis  only  the  rupture  of  a  small  blood- 
vessel ;  fear  not  for  him,  my  brave  friend,  he 
will  soon  be  better." 

While  Paul  Miiiler,  assisted  by  one  of  the 
Delawares  who  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the 
tent,  carried  the  youth  into  the  open  air,  and 
employed  the  restoratives  which  his  experience 
suggested,  the  chief  mused  upon  the  words 
which  he  had  last  heard,  and  inquired,  address- 
ing himself  to  Reginald,  "What  said  the  Black 
Father  of  his  life  and  liberty  being  given  by 
Wingenund?" 

"  Tell  the  Chief,  Ethelston,  what  has  befallen, 
and  hovv'you  and  Paul  Miiiler  were  rescued  by 
Wingenund.  In  my  deep  anxiety  for  my  suffer- 
ing friend,  I  was  satisfied  with  seeing  that  you 
had  returned  in  safety,  and  never  inquired  how 
you  escaped." 

Ethelston  drew  near  to  the  wounded  chief,  so 
that  he  might  distinctly  hear  every  syllable  spo- 
ken, and  said,  "  War-Eagle,  as  surely  as  Prairie- 
bird  owes  her  life  and  safety  to  your  devoted 
courage,  so  surely  do  the  Father  and  I  owe  our 
lives  and  liberty  to  that  of  Wingenund.  Can 
you  listen  now,  and  follow  me  while  I  tell  you 
all  that  has  happened!" 

The  chief  gave  a  silent  riod  of  assent,  and 
Ethelston  proceeded,  in  the  simple  language  of 
true  feeling,  to  relate  to  him  the  events  record- 
ed in  the  last  chapter.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  narrative  the  chief,  expecting,  probably , 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


1S7 


ffiat  the  escape  had  been  efTected  by  some  suc- 
cessful disguise  or  stratagem,  closed  his  eyes, 
as  if  oppressed  by  the  torturing  pains  that  shot 
through  his  frame ;  but  he  opened  them  with 
awakened  interest  when  the  scene  of  the  coun- 
cil was  described,  and  at  the  mention  of  Mahe- 
ga's  name  he  ejaculated  "Hal"  his  counte- 
nance assumed  a  fierce  expression,  and  his  hand 
unconsciously  grasped  the  war-club  that  lay  be- 
side him. 

Reginald  listened  with  deep  interest,  and  even 
Lita,  who  had  hitherto  appeared  insensible  to 
everything  except  the  sufferings  of  her  beloved 
lord,  threw  back  the  long  hair  from  her  eye^, 
marvelling  what  this  might  be  that  so  excited 
and  revived  him  ;  but  when  Ethelston  related 
the  catastrophe,  how  Mahega  had  thrown  his 
club,  slightly  grazing  the  youth,  and  how  the 
latter  had,  in  presence  of  the  assembled  Crows, 
killed  and  scalped  the  great  Osage,  the  breast 
of  the  Delaware  warrior  heaved  with  proud 
emotions,  which  quelled  for  the  moment  all 
sense  of  the  pains  that  racked  his  frame;  his 
eye  lightened  with  the  fire  of  other  days,  and, 
waving  the  war-club  over  his  head,  he  shouted, 
for  the  last  time,  the  war-cry  of  his  tribe. 

As  the  chief  fell  back  exhausted  upon  his  rude 
pillow,  the  gentle  voice  of  Prairie-bird  was  heard 
from  the  adjoining  compartment  of  the  tent,  call- 
ing Lita  to  explain  the  meaning  of  the  loud  and 
unexpected  cry  by  which  she  bad  been  aroused 
from  her  slumber:  Lita  withdrew  ;  and,  while 
her  mistress  made  her  rapid  and  silent  toilet, 
informed  her  of  the  safe  return  of  the  Black 
Father  and  Wingenund,  and  that  the  latter  hav- 
ing been  seized  with  a  sudden  illness,  the  friend 
of  Reginald  had  remained  by  the  chief,  and  had 
communicated  some  intelligence,  which  seemed 
to  affect  him  with  the  most  extravagant  joy  and 
excitement. 

So  anxious  was  the  maiden  to  see  her  beloved 
preceptor,  and  so  hastily  did  she  fold  the  kerchief 
in  the  form  of  a  turban  round  her  head,  that  sev- 
eral of  her  dark  tresses  escaped  from  beneath 
it,  and  fell  over  her  neck.  The  first  dress  that 
came  to  her  hand  was  one  made  from  a  deep- 
blue  Mexican  shawl,  of  ample  dimensions,  given 
to  her  by  the  Missionary.  Fastening  this  round 
her  slender  waist  with  an  Indian  girdle,  and  a 
pair  of  moccasins  upon  her  delicate  feet,  she 
went  forth,  catching  up  as  she  left  the  tent  a 
scarf,  which  she  threw  carelessly  over  her 
tshoulders.  Greeting  War-Eagle  hastily,  but 
affectionately,  as  she  passed,  she  flew  with  a 
glowing  cheek  and  beating  heart  to  the  spot 
where  the  Missionary  still  bent  with  anxious 
solicitude  over  the  reviving  form  of  Wingenund. 

"My  father — my  dear  father  !"  she  exclaim- 
ed, seizing  his  hand ;  "  God  be  praised  for  thy 
safe  return !" 

The  venerable  man  embraced  her  tenderly, 
and,  after  contemplating  for  a  moment  her  coun- 
tenance beaming  with  filial  affection,  he  placed 
his  outspread  hands  upon  her  head,  saying,  with 
impressive  solemnity,  "  May  the  blessing  of  God 
rest  upon  thee,  my  beloved  child,  and  upon  all 
near  and  dear  to  thee,  for  ever !" 

Prairiebird  bowed  her  head  meekly  while 
^■■Bathing  a  silent  amen  to  the  holy  man's  ben- 
l»iction,  and  then  turned  to  inquire  of  her  young 
Wither  how  he  now  felt,  and  of  Paul  Miiller  in- 
'«;  he  cause  of  his  sudden  illness. 


Wingenund  was  sufficiently  recovered  to 
speak  to  her  gratefully  in  reply,  and  to  press 
the  hand  which  she  held  out  to  him.  but  he  was 
much  reduced  by  loss  of  blood,  and  the  Mission- 
ary putting  his  finger  to  his  Ups  enjoined  him 
quiet  and  silence  for  the  present.  He  continu- 
ed, however,  in  a  low  voice  to  explain  tc  her 
the  strange  events  that  had  lately  occurred,  and 
how  he  and  the  friend  of  her  betrothed  owed  to 
the  heroism  of  Wingenund  their  life  and  liberty. 

While  the  maiden  listened  with  absorbed  at- 
tention, every  passage  in  the  brief  but  eventful 
tale  was  legible  on  her  eloquent  countenance. 
As  Reginald  stood  at  a  little  distance  gazing 
earnestly  upon  its  changeful  loveliness,  he  was 
startled  by  a  suppressed  ejaculation  from  some 
one  at  his  side,  at  the  same  time  that  his  arm 
was  seized  and  pressed  with  almost  convulsive 
force.  He  turned  and  saw  his  friend  Ethelston, 
who,  finding  that  War-Eagle  had  fallen  into  a 
tranquil  sleep,  had  stolen  out  of  the  tent  to  the 
side  of  Reginald,  where  he  first  caught  a  sight 
of  the  maiden  as  she  listened  to  the  Missionary's 
narrative.  Reginald  again  observed  with  as- 
tonishment that  his  friend,  usually  so  calm, 
trembled  from  head  to  foot ;  his  eye  rested  up- 
on the  group  with  a  preternatural  fixedness,  and 
his  lips  moved  inaudibly  like  those  of  a  man 
scarcely  recovered  from  a  trance.  "  Gracious 
heaven  !  what  can  have  happened  !  Edward, 
you  are  not  surely  ill !  that  would  indeed  fill  the 
cup  of  our  trials  to  the  brim.  Speak  to  me,  let 
me  hear  your  voice,  for  your  looks  alarm  me." 

Ethelston  made  no  reply,  but  he  pointed  with 
his  finger  towards  Prairie-bird,  and  two  or  three 
large  tear-drops  rolled  down  his  cheek. 

While  this  was  passing,  Paul  Miiller  had 
brought  his  tale  to  a  conclusion,  and  his  eye 
happening  to  light  upon  Ethelston,  he  continu- 
ed (still  addressing  Prairie-bird),  "  And  now,  my 
dear  child,  it  only  remains  for  me  to  tell  you  thf 
cause  of  our  beloved  young  brother's  weakened 
condition.  The  extremes  of  joy  and  of  anguish 
will  sometimes  sweep  before  them  the  mighti- 
est bulwarks  that  can  be  raised  in  the  heart  ol 
man  by  his  own  unaided  strength.  Wingenund 
opposed  to  the  stroke  of  affliction  sent  from  on 
high  not  the  meek,  trusting  endurance  of  Chris- 
tian resignation,  but  the  haughty  resistance  ol 
human  pride.  Already  he  sees  and  repents  his 
error,  and  the  mist  is  clearing  away  from  hia 
eyes  ;  but  you,  my  dear  child,  have  been  better 
taught ;  you  have  learnt,  in  all  trials  and  in  all 
emergencies,  to  throw  yourself  upon  the  mercy 
of  your  heavenly  Father,  and  to  place  youi 
whole  trust  in  His  gracious  promises  of  pro- 
tection. We  are  more  apt  to  forget  this  dutj 
when  our  cup  overflows  with  joy  than  when  his 
chastening  hand  is  upon  us  ;  but  it  should  no" 
be  so.  Promise  me,  then,  promise  me,  my  be- 
loved child,  that  in  weal  or  in  woe,  in  the  rap- 
ture of  joy  as  in  the  extremity  of  sorrow,  you 
will  strive  to  remember  and  practise  it." 

Awed  by  the  unusual  solemnity  of  his  manner 
the  maiden  bowed  her  head,  and  said,  "  I  pr?- 
mise." 

Scarcely  had  she  said  these  words  when  Reg 
inald  came  forward,  leading  his  friend  Ethelston, 
who  had  by  a  strong  effort  recovered  from  his 
extreme  agitation,  and  regained  something  o' 
his  usual  composure.  "  Prairie-bird,"  said  Reg- 
inald, "  I  wish  to  make  known  to  vou,  mv  moat 


iS8 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIKD. 


t-iithful  companion,  my  tried  and  attaclied  friend 
Ellielaioii.  You  must  love  him  now  for  my 
sake  ;  wlien  you  know  liim,  you  will  do  so  for 
his  own  own." 

Leaning  on  the  Missionary's  arm,  the  maiden 
laised  herself  fi'om  her  stooping  posture  to  greet 
the  friend  of  her  betrothed.  "  I  have  heard 
much "  she  said,  with  her  sweet  natural  dig- 
nity of  manner ;  but  she  suddenly  stopped,  start- 
ing as  if  she  had  seen  a  ghost,  and  clinging  closer 
to  Paul  Mailer's  arm,  while  her  earnest  gaze 
encountered  the  eyes  of  Ethelston  fixed  upon  her 
with  an  expression  that  seemed  to  shake  the 
nerves  and  fibres  of  her  heart.  To  Reginald 
their  silence  and  agitation  was  an  incomprehen- 
sible mystery ;  not  so  to  the  Missionary,  who 
still  supported  Prairie-bird,  and  whispered  to  her 
as  she  advanced  a  step  nearer  to  the  stranger, 
"Your  promise."  She  understood  him,  for  he 
heard  her  breathe  the  Almighty's  name,  as 
Ethelston  also  advanced  a  step  towards  her  ; 
and  again  their  looks  dwelt  upon  each  other 
with  a  fixed  intensity  that  spoke  of  thoughts  too 
crowded,  and  confused,  and  mysterious  for  ex- 
pression. At  length  Ethelston,  whose  strong 
and  well-balanced  mind  had  triumphed  over  the 
first  shock  of  emotion,  addressed  the  maiden, 
saying,  "  Have  the  latter  years  been  so  happily 
spent  that  they  have  quite  banished  from  the 
mind  of  Prairie-bird  the  memory  of  early  daysl" 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  maiden  started 
as  if  she  had  received  an  electric  shock;  her 
bosom  heaved  with  agitation,  and  her  eyes  fill- 
ed with  tears. 

Again  the  Missionary  whispered,  "  Your  pro- 
mise!" while  Ethelston  contiliued,  "Has  she 
forgotten  her  own  little  garden  with  the  sun- 
dial!  and  poor  Mary  who  nursed,  and  dressed, 
and  taught  her  to  readi  Has  she  forgotten  the 
great  bible  full  of  prints,  of  which  she  was  so 
fond  ;  and  the  green  lane  that  led  to  Mooshannel 
Has  Evy  forgotten  her  Edward  1" 

"  'Tis  he — 'tis  he  !  'tis  Eddy !  my  own,  my 
long-lost  brother !"  cried  the  maiden  aloud,  as 
she  threw  herself  into  his  arms  ;  and  looking  up 
into  his  face,  she  felt  his  cheek  as  if  to  assure 
herself  that  all  was  not  a  dream,  and  poured 
out  her  grateful  heart  in  tears  upon  his  bosom. 
She  did  remember  her  promise,  and  even  in  the 
first  tumult  of  her  happiness,  she  sought  and 
derived  from  Him  to  whom  she  owed  it, 
strength  to  endure  its  sudden  and  overwhelm- 
ing excess. 

"  'Tis  even  so,"  said  the  Missionary,  grasp- 
ing the  astonished  Reginald's  arm,  "  for  some 
time  I  had  suspected  that  such  was  the  case  ; 
Prairie-bird,  my  beloved  pupil,  and  your  be- 
trothed bride,  is  no  other  than  Evelyn  Ethel- 
ston, the  sister  of  your  friend.  My  suspicions 
were  confirmed  and  almost  reduced  to  certain- 
ty, during  the  first  conversations  that  I  held 
with  him  in  St.  Louis ;  for  he,  being  several 
years  older  than  you,  remembered  many  of  the 
circumstances  attending  the  disappearance  and 
.supposed  destruction  of  his  little  sister  by  the 
Indians,  when  his  father's  house  was  ravaged 
and  burnt.  I  foresaw  that  they  must  meet 
when  he  left  the  settlements  in  search  of  you, 
and  though  I  prepared  him  for  the  interview,  I 
thought  it  better  to  say  nothing  to  her  or  to  you, 
but  to  leave  the  recognition  to  the  powerful 
voice  of  Nature.    You  see  the  result  in  that  fra- 


ternal embrace,  and  I  have  in  a  little  bag,  grven 
to  me  by  Tamenund,  when  at  the  point  of  death, 
proofs  of  her  identity  that  would  convince  a 
sceptic,  were  yuu  disposed  to  bo-  one  ;  the  cov- 
er of  a  child's  spelling  book,  in  which  her  name 
is  written  at  length  (possibly  by  Ethelston)  and 
a  little  kercliief  with  tiie  initials  E.  E.  in  the 
corner,  both  of  which  were  in  her  hand  when 
she  was  carried  o^f  by  the  Indians  who  spared 
and  preserved  her !" 

While  the  Missionary  felt  beneath  the  folds 
of  his  dark  serge  robe,  for  the  bag  which  he  nad 
always  carefully  kept  suspended  by  a  ribbon 
from  his  neck,  Reginald's  memory  was  busy  in 
recalling  a  thousand  indistinct  recollections  of 
early  days,  and  in  comparing  them  with  those 
of  a  more  recent  date. 

"Well  do  I  remember,"  he  exclaimed,  "miss- 
ing my  sweet  little  playmate  in  childhood  !  and 
how  all  allusion  to  the  terrible  calamity  that  be- 
fel  our  nearest  neighbour  and  friend,  was  forbid 
in  our  family  !  Scarcely  ever,  even  in  later 
years,  have  I  touched  upon  the  subject  with 
Ethelston,  for  I  saw  that  it  gave  him  pain,  and 
brought  a  cloud  over  his  brow.  Now,  I  can 
understand  the  wild  and  troubled  expression 
that  came  across  her  countenance  when  she 
first  saw  me  near  the  Osage  camp,  and  first 
heard  my  voice,  and  how  she  started,  and  after- 
wards recovered  herself,  when  I  told  her  of 
Mooshanne !  How  blind  have  I  now  been  to 
everything  save  her  endearing  qualities,  and 
the  ten  thousand  graces  that  wait  upon  her  an- 
gelic form  !  See  how  like  they  are,  now  that 
a  tide  of  feeling  is  poured  into  the  countenance 
of  my  steady  and  composed  friend  !  Jealous 
as  I  am  of  her  time,  and  of  every  grain  of  her 
affection,  I  must  not  grudge  them  a  few  min- 
utes of  undisturbed  intercourse  after  a  separa- 
tion of  so  many  years  !  Come,  worthy  Father, 
let  us  employ  ourselves  in  tending  and  minis- 
tering to  War-Eagle  and  Wingenund,  and  let 
us  not  forget  that  to  them,  next  to  Heaven,  we 
are  indebted  for  the  life  and  happiness  of  every 
single  member  of  our  miraculously  re-united 
circle." 

"  You  have  a  warm  and  a  kindly  heart,  my 
young  friend,"  said  the  Missionary,  "  and  that 
is  a  blessing  without  which  all  the  other  bless- 
ings of  Heaven  may  fall  like  showers  upon  the 
Lybian  desert.  I  know  how  you  must  long  to 
pour  out  your  feelings  of  affection  on  this  occa- 
sion to  your  friend,  and  to  your  betrothed  ;  but, 
believe  me,  you  will  not  have  done  amiss  by 
following  the  first  promptings  of  your  heart. 
Let  us,  as  you  propose,  endeavour  to  soothe  and 
comfort  the  sufferers.  Wingenund  is  now  suf- 
ficiently recovered  to  listen  while  you  relate  to 
him  these  strange  occurrences ;  only  caution 
him  not  to  speak  too  much  at  present.  I  will 
return  to  the  side  of  War-Eagle,  and  although 
it  be  too  late  now  for  us  to  attempt  any  remedy 
for  his  bodily  pains,  who  shall  limit  the  power 
of  the  Almighty,  or  circumscribe  the  operation 
of  his  hands  1  Who  knows  whether  He  may 
not  think  fit,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  touch 
that  stern  and  obdurate  heart  with  a  ccunl  from 
his  altar  !  And,  oh  !  my  dear  young  friend,  il 
such  be  his  blessed  purpose,  I  would  not  forego 
the  privilege  of  being  the  humble  instrument  in 
effecting  it,  for  all  the  wealth,  the  honours,  the 
happiness,  that  earth  can  bestow" 


THE    PRAIRIE. BIRD. 


189 


Reginald  looked  after  the  worthy  Missionary 
until  he  disappeared  within  the  tent;  then,  sigh- 
ing heavily,  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  zeal,  hon- 
esty, and  true  piety  can  render  any  human 
means  available,  assuredly  that  excellent  and 
holy  man's  attempt  will  not  be  made  in  vain ; 
and  yet  I  fear  that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle 
can  soften  or  subdue  the  stern  pride  of  War- 
Eagle's  spirit.  How  deeply  anxious  do  I  feel 
for  the  issue !  for  I  cannot  forget  that  it  was  in 
defence  of  Prairie-bird  that  he  incurred  this  fear- 
ful torture,  ending  in  an  untimely  death!  His 
life  sacrificed  that  mine  might  be  happy  with 
her  !  Where,  where,  my  generous  Indian  broth- 
er, shall  I  find,  among  the  cities  and  crowded 
haunts  of  civilized  men,  truth,  self-denial,  and 
devoted  affection  like  thine  !  At  least  I  will 
strive  to  fulfil  the  wish  that  I  know  to  be  near- 
est thy  heart,  by  cherishing  in  my  bosom's  core 
thy  beloved  brother  Wingenund  !" 

Thus  meditating,  Reginald  sat  down  by  the 
young  Delaware,  and  strove,  by  awakening  his 
interest  in  the  strange  events  lately  brought  to 
light  respecting  Prairie-bird,  to  wean  him  from 
the  deep  dejection  caused  by  his  brother's  hope- 
less plighi. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Containing  a  treaty  between  the  Crows  and  Delawares, 
and  the  death  of  an  Indian  chief. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  at  length  the 
occupations  of  the  party  during  the  remainder  of 
this  eventful  day ;  how  the  re-united  brother 
and  sister  called  up  a  thousand  long-stored,  en- 
dearing remembrances  ;  how  they  looked  upon 
the  childish  relics  preserved  by  the  Missionary  ; 
and  how,  after  interchanging  a  rapid  but  inter- 
esting sketch  of  each  other's  history,  they  turn- 
ed again  to  share  with  him  and  with  Reginald 
the  melancholy  and  affecting  duty  of  attending 
upon  the  dying  chieftain.  His  sufferings  were 
Bow  less  acute,  but  mortification  had  extended 
itself  rapidly,  and  threatened  hourly  to  terminate 
them  altogether,  by  seizing  upon  the  vitals.  His 
mind  seemed  tranquil  and  collected  as  ever,  only 
the  watchful  Missionary,  observing  that  he  lis- 
tened more  attentively  to  the  voice  of  Prairie- 
bird  than  to  any  other,  he  yielded  his  place  be- 
side the  dying  man  to  her,  entreating  her  to  spare 
no  efforts  that  might  lead  him,  by  the  appointed 
path,  to  the  Fountain  of  Mercy. 

Willingly  did  the  maiden  resume  the  task  on 
which  she  had  been  employed  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  preceding  night ;  and  after  praying 
fervently  for  a  blessing  on  her  labours,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  to  him  again,  in  his  own  lan- 
guage, some  of  the  simplest  and  most  affecting 
truths  of  the  gospel  dispensation. 

What  an  interesting  spectacle  for  the  con- 
templation of  a  Christian  philosopher  !  A  hea- 
then warrior,  whose  youth  had  been  matured 
with  tales  of  fierce  reprisal  and  revenge,  whose 
path  in  life  had  been  marked  with  blood,  war 
being  at  once  his  pleasure  and  his  pride,  stretch- 
ed now  upon  the  ground,  still  in  the  prime  of 
manhood,  yet  with  shortening  breath  and  ebb- 
ing strength,  listening  with  deep  attention  to 
the  words  of  hope  and  consolatipn  pronounced 
by  the  lips  of  her  who  had  been,  through  life,  the 
secretly  treasured  idol  of  his  heart.    Perhaps 


this  earthly  love,  purified  as  it  had  long  been 
from  passion,  and  ennobled  by  the  sacrifice  that 
he  had  made  to  friendship,  was  the  channel 
through  which  the  mysterious  influences  of  the 
Divine  Spirit  were  appointed  to  flow ;  for  his 
eager  ear  lost  not  a  word  of  what  she  uttered, 
and  his  heart  was  softened  to  receive  from  her 
lips  truths  against  which,  if  delivered  by  anoth- 
er, its  early  prejudices  might  have  rebelled. 

Partly  by  the  religious  creed  of  his  race,  and 
partly  by  former  conversations  with  herself  and 
the  Missionary,  he  was  already  impressed  with 
a  just  view  of  the  principal  attributes  of  Deity — 
his  omnipotence,  goodness,  and  eternity.  The 
chief  endeavour  of  Praine-bird  was  now  to  con 
vince  him  that  the  God  of  the  Christians  ad- 
dressed the  same  word,  the  same  promises  and 
invitations,  to  the  Indians  as  to  them,  and  that 
they  also  were  included  in  the  vast  and  myste- 
rious scheme  of  redemption ;  for  this  purpose 
she  translated  for  him,  into  the  Delaware  tongue, 
some  of  those  magnificent  passages  in  Isaiah 
wherein  the  Amighty,  after  declaring  this  unity 
and  irresistible  power,  sends  forth  his  gracious 
promises  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  to 
the  isles,  to  the  wilderness,  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  mountains,  and  those  that  dwell  among  the 
rocks,  and  concludes  with  the  assurance,  "I 
will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  knew  not ; 
I  will  lead  them  in  paths  that  they  have  not 
known.  I  will  make  darkness  light  before  them, 
and  crooked  things  straight ;  these  things  will 
I  do  unto  them,  and  not  forsake  them." 

War-Eagle  listened  attentively,  and  gave  the 
whole  strength  of  his  mind  to  the  consideration 
of  the  subject  propounded  ;  some  of  these  truths 
he  had  heard  before,  but  they  had  taken  no  fixed 
root,  and  had  rather  been  dismissed  unheeded, 
than  weighed  and  rejected.  Now  they  present 
ed  themselves  under  a  very  different  aspect ; 
for  they  were  pressed  upon  him  with  the  most 
affectionate  earnestness,  by  the  one  whom  he 
looked  up  to  as  the  most  gifted  and  the  most 
guileless  of  human  beings  ;  and  the  Black  Fa- 
ther also,  for  whom  he  entertained  the  highest 
esteem  and  regard,  had  told  him  repeatedly  that 
every  truth,  everything  necessary  for  happiness 
after  death,  was  written  in  that  book  from  which 
she  was  now  reading  ;  that  it  was,  in  short,  the 
written  command  ef  Him  whom  he  had  from 
his  youth  addressed  as  the  Great  Spirit. 

Deeply  moved  by  these  reflections  (aided  as 
they  may  perhaps  have  been  by  the  operations 
of  a  mightier  influence),  the  chief  propounded  to 
his  young  instructress  several  inquiries,  which 
it  rejoiced  her  to  hear,  as  they  indicated  a  soft- 
ened and  teachable  spirit.  Neither  were  they 
difficult  for  her  to  answer,  as  she  was  familiar 
with  almost  every  page  of  the  volume  before 
her,  and  thus  knew  where  to  seek  at  once  a  so- 
lution of  every  doubt  and  difficulty  that  occurred 
to  her  simple-minded  and  ingenuous  patient. 

While  she  was  engaged  in  this  interesting  and 
truly  Christian  task,  Reginald,  Ethelston,  and 
the  Missionary  sate  with  Wingenund,  and  strove 
to  soothe  and  tranquillise  the  agitation  into 
which  the  late  disaster  had  thrown  him.  Al- 
though somewhat  weakened  by  loss  of  blood, 
he  had  recovered  his  faculties  both  of  body  and 
mind  ;  but  all  the  well-meant  endeavours  of  his 
friends  to  raise  him  from  the  deep  depression  of 
spirits  into  which  he  had  fallen  were  exerted  ia 


190 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Tain.    He  replied  gently,  and  without  petulance,  |  of  War-Eagle,  but  Wingenund  had  spent  an 


to  various  questions  that  they  put  to  him,  and 
then  sank  again  into  desponding  gloom,  musing 
over  the  fadmg  fortunes  of  his  family  and  of  his 
tribe  —now  about  to  lose  him  who  was  the  pride, 
the  support,  and  tiie  glory  of  both. 

After  several  unsuccessful  attempts,  Ethel- 
iton  touched  at  length  upon  a  topic  wiiich  had 
in  some  degree  the  effect  of  arresting  his  atten- 
•  tion  and  engaging  the  more  active  powers  of 
his  mind  ;  for  on  reminding  the  youth  that  llie 
Crows  were  to  visit  the  camp  on  the  morrow 
to  interchange  presents  and  conclude  the  treaty 
of  peace,  Wingenund  proposed  to  Reginald 
that  he  should  summon  Baptiste  and  Pierre, 
and  concert,  with  their  advice,  the  course  that 
it  might  be  advisable  to  pursue. 

While  they  were  employed  in  considering 
and  discussing  deliberately  the  various  plans 
proposed,  Paul  Miiller  and  Prairie-bird  continu- 
ed sometimes  together,  and  sometimes  alter- 
nately, their  attendance  upon  War-Eagle,  whose 
strength  was  rapidly  dechning,  although  his  in- 
tellect remained  clear  and  unimpaired.  Food 
he  was  unable  to  taste  ;  but  the  grateful  smile 
with  which  he  received  now  and  then  a  cup  of 
water  from  the  hand  of  Prairie-bird  tauched  her 
sensibly ;  and  there  was  a  serene  composure 
ujion  his  countenance,  which  encouraged  her  to 
hope  that  his  mind  was  in  a  peaceful  frame,  and 
that  thoughts  of  war  and  strife  were  gradually 
giving  place  to  better  and  holier  meditations. 

The  sun  went  down,  evening  fell,  and  the 
darkening  hours  of  night  found  the  maiden  still 
unwearied  at  her  post,  seizing,  with  instinctive 
tact,  every  opportunity  offered  by  his  inquiries 
or  remarks  for  quoting  to  him  from  the  Book  of 
Life  some  appropriate  and  consoling  truth  ;  nor 
did  she  retire  to  rest  until  she  felt  assured  that 
exhausted  nature  had  extended  the  boon  of 
slumber  to  her  suffering  patient. 

Not  even  then  did  the  faithful  Lita  quit  the 
place  that  she  had  chosen  at  the  .eet  of  the 
vs^arrior  whom  she  had  so  long  worshipped  in  se- 
cret ;  noticed  or  unnoticed,  thanked  or  unthank- 
ed,  whether  hungry,  or  thirsty,  or  sleepless,  all 
was  the  same  to  her.  In  hfe  her  love  had  been 
either  unknown  or  despised  ;  and  now  the  last 
faint  glimmerings  of  hope  were  to  be  extinguish- 
ed, without  even  the  wretched  consolation  of 
pity.  During  the  watches  of  that  night  there 
were  tears  upon  the  pillow  of  Prairie-bird  ;  the 
eyes  of  Wingenund  were  sleepless,  and  his 
heart  loaded  with  sorrow.  Sharp  and  frequent 
were  the  pangs  and  shooting-pains  that  broke 
the  rest  of  the  departing  Chief;  yet  was  there, 
perhaps,  none  amongst  tliem  all  whose  suffer- 
ings were  not  light  in  comparison  with  the  si- 
lent and  hopeless  anguish  of  the  Comanche 
girl. 

The  morning  dawned  with  all  the  fresh  beau- 
ty of  summer  in  that  mountain  region  ;  and, 
agreeably  to  the  resolution  formed  at  the  coun- 
cil held  on  the  preceding  evening,  the  whole 
party  was  summoned  to  parade  with  their  best 
arms  and  accoutrements,  so  as  to  produce  upon 
the  Indians  a  due  impression  of  their  formida- 
ble strength,  at  the  same  time  that  various 
bales  were  unpacked,  from  which  were  select- 
ed the  presents  intended  for  the  principal  chiefs 
and  braves. 
No  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  state 


hour  with  him  alone  ;  during  which,  among 
other  subjects  of  greater  importance,  he  had 
mentioned  the  expected  visit  of  the  Crows,  and 
the  conditions  of  the  treaty  which  it  was  pro- 
posed to  make  with  them.  To  these  the  Chief 
had  given  his  assent,  and  had  deputed  his  young 
brother  to  act  in  his  stead  ;  after  which  he 
turned  again  with  renewed  eagerness  and  anxi- 
ety to  the  subjects  suggested  to  him  by  Prairie- 
bird  and  the  Missionary. 

Tlie  sun  was  not  very  high  in  the  heaven, 
when  the  band  of  Crows  were  seen  descending 
the  hill  towards  the  encampment.  They  were 
led  by  White-Bull,  accompanied  by  Besha,  and 
were  only  twelve  in  number,  all  magnificently 
clad  in  dresses  of  deer-skin,  ornamented  with 
coloured  feathers,  stained  quills,  scalp-locks, 
and  the  other  adjuncts  of  Crow  chivalry.  Be 
sha  apologised  for  the  scantiness  of  the  deputa 
tion,  stating,  that  during  the  past  night  an  at- 
tempt had  been  made  by  tie  Blackfeet  to  res- 
cue their  prisoners  ;  and  although  it  had  not 
been  successful,  the  Crows  could  not  venture, 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  such  dangerous  foes, 
to  weaken  the  defence  of  their  camp,  by  send- 
ing away  a  large  body  of  its  best  warriors.  To 
this  a  suitable  and  complimentary  reply  having 
been  made,  the  business  of  the  day  commenced 
by  presenting  food  to  the  Upsaroka  guests. 

A  circle  having  been  made,  the  white  hunt- 
ers were  ranged  on  one  side  of  it,  and  the  Del- 
avvares  on  the  other,  the  former  being  all  armed 
with  rifles  and  pistols,  and  hunting-knives,  pre- 
sented a  very  warlike  appearance ;  while  the 
sinewy  and  weather-beaten  frames  of  the  lat- 
ter, a'med  as  they  were  with  rifle,  war-club, 
and  scalp-knife,  inspired  the  observant  leader  of 
the  Crows  with  no  wish  to  bring  his  band  into 
hostile  collision  with  such  a  party.  In  the  cen- 
tre were  seated  Reginald  Brandon,  Wingenund, 
and  Ethelston,  Pierre  having  taken  his  place 
near  the  latter,  and  Baptiste  occupying  his 
usual  station  beside  his  young  master,  and 
leaning  upon  his  enormous  hatchet.  If  the  in- 
tentions of  White-Bull  were  treacherous,  he 
found  no  greater  encouragement  to  his  hopes 
from  a  survey  of  the  leaders,  men  of  powerful 
form,  and  grave,  determined  aspect,  with  the 
exception  of  Wingenund,  whose  youth  and 
slight  ijgure  might  have  led  a  stranger  to  fear 
him  less  as  an  opponent.  He  had,  however, 
given  such  proof  of  his  skill,  courage,  and  ac- 
tivity in  Indian  warfare,  that  the  Crows  did  not 
look  upon  him  with  less  respect  than  upon  the 
more  experienced  men  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded. 

When  the  Upsaroka  deputation  had  finished 
the  portion  of  bison-meat  set  before  them,  Re- 
ginald gave  them  a  treat,  such  as  they  had  nev- 
er before  enjoyed,  in  the  shape  of  a  tin-cup  fuU 
of  coffee,  sweetened  with  sugar,  which  they 
passed  round,  and  tasted  at  first  with  some  re- 
luctance, owing  to  its  dark  colour,  taking  it  for 
"  Great  Medicine."  After  sipping  it  once  or 
twice,  however,  they  seemed  to  find  it  more 
palatable,  and  drank  all  that  was  offered  to 
them,  and  then  the  pipe  was  lighted  and  smoked 
with  due  solemnity. 

When  these  preliminaries  were  concluded, 
the  business  of  the  day  was  entered  upon,  and 
was  conducted  with  equal  caution  and  distrust 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


idl 


on  Doth  sides  ;  Besha  being,  of  course,  the  in- 
terpreter, and  moulding  the  respective  commu- 
nications in  the  manner  most  hkeJy,  according 
to  his  views,  to  ensure  the  continuance  of  the 
truce  agreed  upon  ;  because  he  had  been  most 
distinctly  warned  by  Wingenund,  that  he  would 
receive  no  present  until  all  the  terms  of  the 
treaty  were  duly  '"fulfilled,  and  that  then  he 
might  expect  one  liberal  enough  to  adorn  the 
wigwam  of  a  chief.  The  crafty  horse-dealer 
had,  at  the  same  time,  contrived  to  persuade 
the  Crows  that  the  white  men  were  secretly 
disinclined  to  the  treaty,  and  that  they  could 
only  be  induced  to  observe  it  by  his  own  cun- 
ning and  contrivance. 

This  being  the  relative  position  of  the  par- 
ties, it  may  well  be  imagined  that  the  diplomat- 
ic arrangements  were  neither  very  long  nor 
difficult,  and  it  was  finally  agreed  that  the 
Crows  should,  when  called  upon,  supply  the 
party  with  a  trusty  guide,  who  should  lead  them 
eastward  by  the  route  on  which  they  would 
find  the  easiest  travelling  and  the  best  supply 
of  bison  ;  that  an  aUiance  for  mutual  defence 
should  exist  between  the  parties  so  long  as  they 
were  within  the  boundaries  of  the  Grow  coun- 
try, but  that  they  should  never  encamp  nearer 
to  each  other  than  at  a  distance  of  twice  the 
long-flight  of  an  arrow ;  that  so  soon  as  they 
should  emerge  from  the  defdes  of  the  moun- 
tains, the  Crows  should  supply  their  allies  with 
twenty  horses,  some  of  those  which  they  had 
brought  from  the  settlements  being  travel-worn 
and  exhausted ;  and  that  Besha  was  to  have 
free  leave  to  come  and  go  from  one  encamp- 
ment to  the  other  at  all  hours  of  the  day  or 
night,  in  the  event  of  any  communication  being 
necessary. 

The  allied  band  agreed,  in  consideration  of 
the  above  conditions,  to  present  the  Crows 
with  a  certain  number  of  bales  of  cloth,  a  score 
of  blankets,  and  an  ample  supply  of  beads, 
paint,  and  knives  ;  one-third  of  the  amount  to 
be  paid  on  the  delivery  of  the  horses,  and  the 
remainder  when  the  parties  separated  on  the 
Great  Prairie,  at  the  eastern  boundary  of  the 
Upsaroka  country. 

These  terms  having  been  written  down  by 
Reginald,  he  read  them  slowly  one  after  the 
ather,  Wingenund  repeating  them  to  Besha,  and 
ne  again  translating  them  to  White-Bull,  who 
nodded  his  approbation  as  they  were  succes- 
sively recapitulated,  after  which  Reginald  and 
Ethelston  having  signed  their  names  in 'pencil, 
desired  Besha  and  White-Bull  to  affix  their  mark. 
The  former  did  so  without  hesitation,  but  the 
latter  made  all  kinds  of  excuses,  and  looked  ex- 
tremely puzzled,  whispering  his  doubts  and  fears 
to  his  interpreter,  who,  being  a  reckless  fehow, 
and,  having  seen  more  of  the  world,  could 
scarce  forbear  laughing  in  his  face. 

In  truth  the  Crow  chief,  though  brave  and 
daring  in  the  field,  was  not  above  the  supersti- 
tions current  in  his  tribe,  and  he  entertained  a 
kind  of  vague  notion  that,  by  putting  his  mark 
upon  the  paper,  he  brought  himself  under  the 
power  of  the  white-man's  medicine. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  at  length  persuaded,  and 
drew  upon  the  paper,  with  a  hand  not  unskilful, 
the  broad  forehead  and  projecting  horns  of  a  bi- 
son's head,  which  design  represented  his  cour 
sent  to  the  treaty. 


No  sooner  was  the  business  concluded  than 
the  presents  were  brought  forth,  and  distributed 
according  to  the  terms  prescribed,  Reginald  add- 
ing for  the  chief  a  hair-brush,  in  the  back  of 
which  a  small  mirror  was  set.  Never  had  such 
a  curiosity  been  seen  in  the  Crow  country,  and 
White-Bull  turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  hand, 
contemplating  it  and  himself  in  it,  with  undis- 
guised satisfaction,  while  Pierre  whispered  to 
Baptiste,  "if  Madame  Bending-willow  is  in  fa- 
vour, she  will  have  it  before  to-morrow  !" 

The  Crows  now  took  their  leave,  amid  many 
protestations  of  friendship  on  both  sides,  and 
returned  with  all  speed  towards  their  own  en- 
campment, White-Bull's  mind  being  divided  be- 
tween delight  at  the  possession  of  his  brush,  and 
dread  at  the  mysterious  dangers  he  might  have 
incurred  by  putting  his  mark  upon  the  white- 
man's  paper. 

The  departure  of  their  wild  allies  left  the  par- 
ty at  the  camp  leisure  to  return  to  their  ordina- 
ry avocations,  and  to  the  sad  recollection  of 
their  Chiefs  condition  ;  indeed,  a  very  short 
time  elapsed  before  he  sent  a  message  by  Paul 
Miiller  desiring  that  they  would  all  come  to  him 
without  delay. 

The  tone  of  deep,  yet  composed  sadness,  in 
which  it  was  dehvered,  announced  to  most  of 
those  who  heard  it  that  War -Eagle  was  draw- 
ing near  to  his  end  ;  and  Reginald,  passing  his 
arm  within  that  of  Wingenund,  whispered  to 
him  as  he  went  such  words  of  sympathy  as  he 
thought  most  like  to  soothe  and  console  him. 

"  Dear  Netis,"  replied   the  youth,  in  a  tone 
of  the  deepest  melancholy,  "  you  are  very  good, 
but  there  is  no  happiness  more  for  Wmge 
nund !" 

"  Say  not  so,  my  young  brother ;  you  are  still 
in  the  early  spring  of  life,  and  I  hope,  when 
these  present  sorrows  are  past,  you  will  yet  en- 
joy a  long  and  happy  day  of  summer." 

"  Wingenund's  sprfng  and  summer  are  both 
gone  !  but  he  does  not  complain  ;  it  is  the  v/ill 
of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  Wingenund  knows  that 
what  He  does  is  right." 

As  he  said  these  words  they  reached  the  tent, 
and  the  day  being  extremely  fine  the  poles  of 
that  compartment  were  taken  up,  and  the  can- 
vass folded  back,  at  the  request  of  the  Chief, 
that  he  might  once  more  look  upon  the  sun, 
and  feel  the  fresh  mountain  breeze  upon  his 
cheek. 

Lita  had  retired  into  the  inner  tent,  and  Prai- 
rie-bird was  seated  at  his  side,  a  cup  of  water 
being  the  only  source  of  relief  to  which  she  from 
time  to  time  had  recourse  to  cool  his  lips  and 
recruit  his  ebbing  strength. 

The  whole  party  being  gathered  round  him, 
Wingenund,  Reginald,  and  Ethelston  somewhat 
in  advance  of  the  rest,  he  addressed  the  former 
in  a  low  but  distinct  voice,  saying,  "  War-Eagle 
is  going  on  the  dark  path,  from  which  he  will 
rot  return  ;  Wingenund  will  be  the  chief  of  the 
Lenape  band ;  has  he  anything  to  say  while 
War-Eagle  is  yet  Chief  1" 

'•  He  has,"  replied  the  youth  in  a  voice  trem- 
ulous from  emotion  ;  "  a  treaty  has  been  made 
with  the  Upsaroka,  does  War-Eagle  think  it 
good  1"  He  then  proceeded  to  enumerate  its 
several  terms  and  conditions. 

"  It  is  good,"  said  the  Chief,  after  a  few  mo- 
ments reflection  ;  "  only  let  Netis  and  Wing© 


193 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


nund  remember  that  the  Upsaroka  are  double- 
tongued  ;  they  hate  the  Blackfeet,  and  will  be 
glad  to  spend  my  brother's  powder  and  blood 
in  destroying  their  enemies.  Let  my  brothers 
keep  near  the  home-path,  and  not  wander  from 
it  to  please  the  Upsaroka.  Is  there  more  that 
-my  brother  wishes  to  say  1" 

"  There  is  my  brother.  Here  are  the  four 
Osage  captives  taken  among  the  Upsaroka. 
Their  deeds  of  blood  are  known  to  War-Eagle  ; 
let  him  say  what  shall  be  done  with  them." 

"  Let  them  stand  forward,"  said  the  Chief, 
raising  himself  with  difficulty  from  the  blanket- 
cushion  against  which  he  had  been  reclining. 

They  were  accordingly  brought  to  the  front 
of  the  circle,  and  stood  awaiting  their  doom 
with  the  fierce  determined  air  of  warriors  who 
knew  and  feared  it  not.  The  eldest  among 
them  was  a  tine  powerful  man,  who  bore  about 
him  the  marks  of  many  a  fray,  and  had  been 
one  of  die  leading  braves  who  followed  the  for- 
tunes of  Mahega.  He  it  was  who  acted  as 
spokesman  in  the  dialogue  that  ensued. 

War-Eagle.  "  Have  the  Washashe  anything 
to  say  that  their  lives  should  not  be  given  to 
the  slow  fire  1" 

Osage.  "  The  warriors  of  the  Washashe  talk 
with  their  hands,  when  their  hands  are  not  tied. 
They  are  not  famous  for  their  tongues." 

W.  "Yet  with  their  tongues  they  spoke 
smooth  words  to  the  Lenape  ;  they  called  them 
brother;  they  ate,  hunted,  fought,  and  smoked 
with  them,  and  then  joined  the  Dahcotahs,  to 
kill  the  women  and  children  of  their  friends.  If 
the  tongues  of  the  Washashe  are  not  famous, 
they  are  forked." 

6.  "  Mahega  was  the  war-chief  of  his  tribe ; 
when  he  went  upon  the  war-path,  the  Washashe 
followed.  He  is  gone  to  the  hunting-fields  of 
the  braves,  and  they  are  not  afraid  to  follow 
him.  When  War-Eagle  took  his  rifle  and  his 
club,  and  went  out  upon'the  war-path  by  night, 
his  warirors  followed  in  silence.  Who  among 
them  sa.  i,  '  Where  does  War-Eagle  go  1" 

W.  "  War-Eagle  never  raised  his  rifle  at  a 
friend ;  he  never  called  out  his  braves  to  burn 
the  wigwam  of  his  brother ;  there  was  never  a 
scalp  of  woman  or  child  taken  by  his  hand. 
.When  he  struck,  it  was  at  an  open  foe,  or  to 
save  or  avenge  a  friend,"  he  added,  in  a  subdu- 
ed tone;  "and  yet  there  is  too  much  blood  on 
the  hands  of  War-Eagle ;  the  Great  Spirit  is 
angry  with  him  for  it." 

The  Osage  made  no  reply.  The  Missionary 
interchanged  a  whispered  word  with  Prairie- 
bird,  and  the  chief  continued,  addressing  chiefly 
the  Delawares  in  their  own  language.  "  My 
brothers,  we  often  pray  to  the  Great  Spirit  to 
forgive  what  we  have  done  that  is  wrong.  The 
Black  Father  and  Olitipa  have  told  War-Eagle 
the  answer  that  He  gives  ;  it  is  written  in  the 
great  book,  in  which  there  are  no  lies,  'The 
Great  Spirit  will  forgive  us,  if  we  forgive  our 
brother  ;  if  we  refuse  to  forgive  our  brother,  the 
Great  Spirit  will  refuse  to  forgive  us.'  War- 
Eagle  has  done  many  things  wrong  ;  he  hopes 
the  Great  Spirit  will  forgive  him.  Shall  he  now 
kill  the  Washashe  1"  He  then  turned  to  the 
prisoners,  and  said,  "Let  their  bands  be  cut, 
and  let  them  return  to  their  own  people  to  tell 
tkem  that  the  Lenape  hurt  not  women  nor  chil- 
dren, nor  men  whose  hands  are  tied.    Olitipa 


has  read  from  the  book,  that  such  is  the  will  of 
the  Great  Spirit,  whom  the  white  men  call  by 
the  name  of  God,  and  the  heart  of  War-Eagle 
tells  him  that  it  is  true." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  this  speech  caused 
greater  surprise  among  his  own  followers,  or 
among  the  Osages  whom  it  restored  to  life  and 
liberty.  Both,  however,  heard  it  with  thr  ab- 
sence of  outward  emotion  which  characterizes 
the  red-skin  race  in  North  America ;  so  that 
Ethelston,  who  did  not  understand  a  word  of 
the  Delaware  tongue,  was  perfectly  unconscious 
of  anything  having  been  said  that  might  materi- 
ally affect  the  fortunes  of  the  prisoners;  and  he 
was  in  momentary  expectation  of  seeing  them 
led  away  to  suffer,  according  to  the  laws  of  In 
dian  retribution,  the  deserved  penalty  of  thei' 
cruelty  and  treachery.  ^ 

While  Pierre  was  informing  him  of  what  hao 
occurred,  the  Osage  spokesman  resolved  appa 
rently  to  try  the  patience  of  the  expiring  Ghiel 
to  the  uttermost,  and  said  to  him,  with  a  sneer, 
"  War-Eagle  is  very  good  to  the  Washashe  ;  he 
knows  that  they  have  neither  food  nor  arms  ; 
there  is  not  one  knife  among  the  four.  They 
are  among  the  mountains,  a  whole  moon's  jour- 
ney from  their  village,  surrounded  by  war- par- 
ties of  the  Upsaroka  and  Blackfeet,  and  on  their 
return-path  must  pass  the  hunting-grounds  of 
the  Shiennes,  the  Kiowas,  the  Pinis,  and  the 
Mahas.  War-Eagle  would  rather  that  they  were 
starved,  and  their  bones  gnawed  by  the  wolves, 
than  see  them  die  like  warriors,  and  laugh  at 
the  Lenape  in  their  death. "< 

Paul  MiiUer  looked  anxiously  at  the  Chief,  to 
mark  what  effect  would  be  produced  by  this  un- 
grateful and  intemperate  speech  ;  anc.  hia  appre- 
hensions were  much  relieved  when  he  heard 
War-Eagle  reply,  in  a  calm  and  unmoved  tone, 
"There  is  no  wonder  that  the  Washashe  think 
others  are  like  themselves,  false-hearted  and 
double-tongued.  Had  the  Lenape  intended  that 
the  Washashe  should  be  killed,  they  would  have 
spared  the  Upsaroka  and  the  wolves  the  task. 
War-Eagle  intends  that  they  should  live  to  be 
ashamed  of  their  bad  deeds.  Wingenund  will 
see  that  they  enter  safely  on  the  home-path. 
Now  let  them  go ;  their  words  are  bitter,  and 
they  can  neither  speak  nor  believe  the  truth. 
War- Eagle  has  no  more  time  to  waste  with 
them." 

As  he  uttered  this  reproof  in  a  contemptuous, 
rather  than  an  angry  tone,  the  Chief  fell  back 
much  exhausted  upon  his  cushion,  and  the  lead- 
ing Osage  was  about  to  make  some  violent  re- 
ply, when  Pierre,  taking  him  by  the  arm,  hur- 
ried him  and  his  companions  to  the  outer  edge 
of  the  circle,  saying  to  him,  as  he  went,  "  Peace, 
fool!  Is  thy  thick  head  so  fond  of  trusting  a  ^ 
Lenape  tomahawk,  that  thou  cast  not  hold  thy 
tongue,  when  thy  saucy  wagging  of  it  might 
cost  thy  life  1  Peace,  I  say,  or,  in  spite  of  the 
Chief's  pardon,  I  will  have  thee  and  thy  com- 
rades tied  dorvn  again  like  fresh  caught  colts." 

Having  spoken  words  to  this  effect  to  the 
reckless  and  grumbling  Osage,  Pierre  re-entered 
the  circle  gathered  round  the  Chief,  and  found, 
on  his  return,  that  a  general  silence  prevailed. 
Wingenund  was  sitting  upon  the  ground,  close 
to  his  brother,  listening  with  the  deepest  atten- 
tion to  the  injunctions  and  counsel  which  the 
latter  was  delivering,  in  a  voice  that  became 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD 


193 


every  moment  more  feeble  and. indistinct.  None 
present  could  overhear  what  passed ;  but,  at 
the  conclusion,  the  two  brothers  sat  for  a  few 
seconds  in  silence,  each  pressing  his  clenched 
hand  upon  the  heart  of  the  other,  after  which 
Wingenund  retired  a  few  paces  back,  while  the 
Chief,  collecting  his  remaining  strength,  said 
aloud  to  his  devoted  followers,  "  War-Eagle  is 
going  to  the  land  where  his  fathers  dwell ;  he  is 
sorry  to  leave  his  brothers,  but  it  is  the  will  of 
ihe  Great  Spirit,  who  is  the  Master  of  Life  ;* 
and  when  He  speaks,  the  Lenape  are  silent,  and 
obey.  When  War-Eagle  is  gone,  it  is  his  wish 
that  Wingenund  should  be  chief  of  the  band  ; 
the  blood  of  Tamenund  warms  his  heart,  and 
though  he  has  not  seen  many  summers,  his  eyes 
have  not  been  shut,  nor  have  his  ears  been 
closed  agamst  the  counsel  of  wise  men.  My 
brothers,  you  have  the  care  of  a  great  treasure, 
the  care  of  Olitipa,  the  beloved  daughter  of 
Tamenund,  the  sister  who  has  cleared  away  the 
cloud  that  hid  the  sun  from  War-Eagle,  and  the 
thorns  that  beset  his  path  in  the  dark  valley. 
My  brothers,  let  not  one  of  you  leave  her  until 
she  is  safe  at  the  white  man's  boundary  ;  and  if 
you  love  War-Eagle,  you  will  also  love  and  obey 
Wingenund,  and  Netis  his  adopted  brother." 

A  deep  suppressed  murmur  was  the  only  re- 
ply made  by  the  gloomy  warriors  around ;  but 
War-Eagle  knew  its  import,  and  read  its  con- 
firmation on  the  determined  countenances  of 
those  who  had  so  often  followed  him  to  strife 
and  victory. 

The  mortal  agony  was  at  hand,  and  the  Chief, 
feeling  its  approach,  looked  suddenly  round  as 
if  he  missed  some  one  who  should  be  there  ;  his 
ctterance  was  scarcely  articulate,  but  Prairie- 
bird  caught  the  intended  sound  of  Lita's  name, 
and  flying  into  the  tent,  speedily  returned,  bring- 
ing with  her  the  weeping  girl.  Again  he  con- 
trived to  make  Prairie-bird  understand  his  wish, 
that  an  armlet  of  beads  that  he  wore  should  be 
taken  off  and  hung  round  Lita's  neck  ;  the  Chief 
smiled  and  said,  "  Lita  has  been  faithful  to 
Olitipa  and  very  good  to  War-Eagle  ;  the  Great 
Spirit  will  reward  her." 

The  destroyer  was  now  rapidly  tightening  his 
fell  coils  round  the  vital  organs,  but  the  Chief 
still  retained  sufficient  strength  to  press  the 
hand  of  each  of  his  sorrowing  friends  in  suc- 
cession against  that  generous  heart  which  must 
so  soon  cease  to  beat.  Wingenund  was  the 
last,  and  as  he  stooped  over  his  brother,  whis- 
pered to  him  a  word  that  reached  the  ear  of 
Prairie- bird,  and  while  it  richly  rewarded  her 
pious  and  affectionate  toil,  lighted  up  at  the  same 
time  the  countenance  of  the  dying  man  with  a 


*  In  the  greater  number  of  the  Indian  languages  known 
on  the  North  American  continent,  the  Sypreme  Being  is 
designated  by  a  name  bearing  one  of  the  three  follovving 
significations : 

1.  "Great,  or  Good  Spirit;"  such  is  the  "Manitou," 
"Manitto,"  "  Kitche-Manitou,"  &.C.,  of  the  Delawares, 
Chippeivays,  Sikis,  Pottawatomis,  and  most  of  the  Algon- 
Un  tribes. 

2.  "The  Wonderful,  or  Wonderful  Spirit,"  by  which 
came  He  is  designated  among  most  of  the  tribes  resident 
oil  the  banks  of  the  Missouri :  e.  g.  "  Wahcondah"  by  the 
Otoes  and  Omahaws,  "  Wahcatunca"  by  the  Dahcotahs, 
"  Ma-na-k6pa"  by  the  Minneterees,  &c. 

3.  "  Master  of  Life,"  wliich  is  the  signification  of  the 
name  by  which  the  Almighty  is  recognised  among  the 
Pawnees,  and  many  other  numerous  and  powerful  tribes. 
The  subject  is  too  comprehensive  to  be  more  than  briefly 
alluded  to  in  this  place. 

N 


smile  of  triumph  that  bid  defiance  to  the  pangs 
of  the  grisly  King  of  Terrors.  From  the  time 
that  he  received  his  fatal  wounds,  not  a  groan 
nor  murmur  of  complaint  had  escaped  him,  and 
when  he  resigned  his  parting  breath,  it  was  with 
the  peaceful  tranquillity  of  childhood  falling 
asleep. 

"  My  children,"  said  the  Missionary,  solemn- 
ly, "War-Eagle,  the  son  of  Tamenund,  is  no 
more !  In  life  none  walked  more  uprightly  thaa 
he,  according  to  the  light  that  was  given  to  him ! 
He  gave  up  his  life  to  save  that  of  another,  and 
after  enduring  grievous  pains  with  the  heroism 
of  an  Indian  warrior,  he  d'ied  with  a  full  hope  and 
trust  ia  the  redeeming  mercy  of  his  God.  Peace 
be  with  his  soul ;  and  may  we  all  rejoin  him 
nereafter  in  the  land  where  separation  and  sor- 
row will  be  unknown  I" 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

War-Eagle's  Funeral. — The  Party  commence  their  home- 
ward Journey. — Besha  exerts  his  diplomatic  Talents  for 
the  last  Time,  and  receives  several  Rewards,  with  some 
of  which  he  would  willingly  have  dispensed. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  what  a  gloom  was 
cast  over  the  whole  party  by  the  death  of  the 
Delaware  leader;  not  only  among  those  who, 
like  Reginald,  Wingenund,  and  Prairie-bird, 
mourned  for  him  as  for  a  departed  brother,  but 
even  among  the  rough  hunters  and  woodsmen, 
to  whom  he  had  endeared  himself  no  less  by  his 
dauntless  courage  than  by  a  thousand  acts  of 
kindness  and  generosity.  As  for  his  own  trusty 
Lenap6  warriors,  their  spirit  seemed  entirely 
broken  ;  too  proud  to  weep  or  lament,  they 
wallced  to  and  fro  by  the  spot  where  his  remains 
still  rested,  casting  upon  the  dark  cloth  by  which 
they  were  covered  desponding  and  melancholy 
looks ;  and  when  Baptiste,  whom  they  esteemed 
as  the  long-tried  friend  of  their  late  Chief,  tried 
to  offer  a  few  words  of  consolation,  hinting  also 
at  the  virtues  and  qualities  of  the  surviving 
brother,  they  shook  their  heads  and  returned  to 
cherish  their  grief,  like  the  wife  of  Phinehas, 
who,  when  she  heard  that  her  husband  and  her 
father-in-law  were  dead,  and  the  Ark  captured, 
regarded  not  the  consolation  of  her  new-bom 
child,  but  called  it  Ichabod,  saying  "  The  glory 
is  departed  from  Israel." 

"  Ethelston,"  said  Reginald  to  his  friend. 
"methinks  the  sooner  we  strike  our  camp  ana 
move  from  this  sad  spot  the  better;  it  is  neces- 
sary, from  the  progress  that  mortification  has 
made  in  the  frame  of  our  lamented  friend,  that 
he  should  be  buried  immediately.  Let  us  speak 
to  Wingenund,  and  see  whether  he  wishes  it 
performed  according  to  our  customs  or  accord- 
ing to  those  of  his  own  people ;  for  in  this  we 
oug:ht  not  to  dictate  to  him." 

Having  joined  the  youth,  whom  they  found 
standing  in  an  attitude  of  dejection  at  no  great 
distance,  Reginald,  after  a  few  words  of  kindly 
sympathy,  proposed  to  him  the  subject  under 
discussion.  To  the  surprise  of  both,  they  found 
him  quite  prepared  for  it.  "Yes,"  he  said; 
"  War-Eagle  said  to  Wingenund  what  he  wish- 
ed, and  it  shall  be  done  this  day.  First  let  us 
obey  his  commands  about  the  Washashe ;  let 
them  oe  called  before  the  tent,  and  let  the  hunt- 
ers and  the  Lenape  be  summoned  ,oo." 

This  was  soon  done,  and  the  party  being  as- 
sembled, the  Osages  were  once  more  brough{ 
forward,  their  Jimbs  having  been  freed  from  HdA 


194 


THE    PRAIRIE -BIRD. 


.hongs  by  which  they  had  been  bound ;  and  the 
general  stock  of  meat,  iresh  as  well  as  dried, 
was  also,  by  desire  of  Wingcnund,  placed  be- 
fore the  lent.  These  preliminaries  being  com- 
pleted, the  young  chief  addressed  them  as  fol- 
lows: '•  Washashe,  it  is  known  to  you  lliat 
War-Eagle,  forgiving  your  bad  deeds,  gave  you 
your  lives — the  Lenap6  respect  the  wishes  of 
their  great  Chief,  and  will  not  send  you  away 
with  empty  hands."  He  then  desired  that  a 
feir  proportion  of  meat,  a  rifle,  with  a  reason- 
able supply  of  ammunition,  a  knife,  and  a  small 
package  of  Indian  presents  should  be  given  to 
each  of  the  Osages.  These  orders  having  been 
punctually,  though  reluctantly,  obeyed  by  one 
of  the  Delaware  warriors,  Wingenund  contin- 
ned,  "  If  the  Washashe  fear  to  enter  upon  the 
jong  home-path  with  so  few  men,  they  may 
camp  under  the  shelter  of  the  Lenape  fires — 
they  cannot  be  called  brothers,  but  no  harm  shall 
be  done  to  them." 

"  The  Washashe,"  replied  the  powerful  In- 
dian who  has  before  been  mentioned  as  the 
spokesman  of  the  Osages,  and  who  now  grasped 
his  restored  rifle  with  an  air  of  fierce  exultation, 
"  the  Washashe  have  no  fear — they  will  go  upon 
the  path  alone — they  will  not  dwell  a  night  by 
the  fires  of  the  Lenap6  camp.  Wingenund  is 
a  young  chief,  and  the  Lenape  need  not  be 
ashamed  when  they  speak  his  name ;  his  words 
and  his  years  are  few,  but  his  deeds  will  be  told 
where  the  council  of  warriors  meet.  His  hand 
is  open,  but  it  is  red  with  the  blood  of  their 
great  chief;  the  Washashe  thanJi  him,  but  they 
cannot  call  the  Lenape  brothers.  The  Washa- 
she have  no  more  to  .'iay ;  before  the  night  falls, 
their  feet  will  be  far  on  the  homeward  path." 

So  saying,  the  grim  warrior  stalked  away 
with  his  three  companions,  the  assembled  party 
looking  after  them  in  silence,  until  their  forms 
were  lost  behind  a  rock  that  projected  into  the 
valley. 

"Proud  and  thankless  scoundrels,"  muttered 
Baptiste,  half  aloud,  to  the  hunter  who  stood 
nearest  to  him.  "  Had  my  opinion  been  taken, 
they  should  have  been  flogged  with  cow-hides 
out  of  the  camp,  and  they  might  have  found 
their  way  as  they  could  to  their  cut-throat  friends 
the  Dahcotahs !  'Twas  always  so  with  War- 
Eagle,  and  will  be  the  same  with  Wingenund ! 
When  the  skrimmage  was  over,  and  his  blood 
was  cool,  there  was  no  more  cruelty  in  his  na- 
tur'  than  there  is  in  that  of  a  Philadelphy  Q,ua- 
ker." 

Wingenund  having  spoken  for  a  few  minutes 
with  the  Missionary,  a  party  of  half  a  dozen 
men  were  desired  by  the  latter  to  dig  a  grave 
'br  the  deceased  Chief  under  a  scathed  and  pic- 
turesque pine  that  stood  alone  on  a  small  natu- 
ral mound  near  the  river.  It  was  a  spot  that 
seemed  to  have  been  framed  by  the  hand  of  the 
Creator  for  a  sepulchre,  rising  as  it  did  in  the 
centre  of  a  wild  and  unfrequented  vale,  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  precipitous  rocks,  be- 
yond which  rose  in  the  distance  the  snow-clad 
summits  of  the  gigantic  mountain-range — the 
fittest  natural  emblem  of  Eternity ;  while,  round 
the  base  of  the  mound,  flowed  the  bubbling 
stream,  a  memento,  no  less  apt,  of  the  change- 
ful and  fleeting  nature  of  all  the  things  belong- 
ing to  this  earthly  scene. 

The  descending  sun  was  just  beginning  to 
^Id  the  peaks  of  the  Western  Andes  when  the 
party  assembled  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  affec- 
tionate regard  to  the  mortal  remains  of  their  late 


leader.  Prairie-bird  and  her  faithful  Lita  at 
tended,  both  having  their  faces  veiled  by  a 
shawl,  and  the  former  supported  by  her  newly- 
restored  brother;  nor  was  there  one  of  the  party 
absent  from  the  mournful  ceremony,  which  was 
commenced  (as  soon  as  the  body,  still  enveloped 
and  bound  in  dark  cloth,  was  placed  near  the 
grave)  by  a  brief  address  from  Wingenund,  ijB 
which  he  said, 

"  My  brothers,  know  that  War-Eagle  was  a 
great  chief;  that  the  blood  of  many  warriors 
ran  in  his  veins.  The  enemies  of  the  Lenape 
were  his  enemies,  and  their  friends  his  friends. 
When  their  warriors  went  forth  to  battle,  he 
was  not  the  last ;  and  when  they  returned,  his 
war-club  could  tell  a  tale."  A  deep  murmur  of 
assent  was  uttered  by  the  Delawares,  and  Win- 
genund conlinued:  "War-Eagle  loved  the  Le- 
nape from  his  childhood;  and  in  his  last  mo- 
ments he  prayed  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  their 
happiness.  He  also  told  Wingenund  that  Oliti- 
pa  and  the  Black  Father  had  read  to  him  many 
wonderful  things  from  the  Great  Spirit's  Book ; 
that  he  had  thought  much  of  them,  and  found 
them  very  good  and  very  true.  They  had  made 
his  heart  so  glad,  that  he  wished  Wingenund 
and  his  Lenape  brothers  to  hear  them,  that  they 
might  learn  how  to  please  the  Great  Spirit,  and 
to  obey  his  will.  Wingenund  promised  War- 
Eagle  that,  when  the  Black  Father  told  them 
the  commands  of  the  Great  Spirit  written  in  the 
book,  the  ears  of  the  Lenape  should  be  open  to 
listen  to  the  words  of  his  wisdom,  and  to  let  his 
counsel  guide  their  feet.  My  brothers,  such 
were  the  wishes  of  War-Eagle,  great  chief  of 
the  Unfimi  band  of  the  Ancient  People.  Win- 
genund has  told  them  truly,  and  he  intends  to 
obey  them  himself;  his  years  are  yet  too  few 
that  he  should  advise  others;  let  each  of  my 
brothers  think  of  these  things  wisely,  and  act  as 
the  Great  Spirit  shall  incline  his  heart." 

A  long  and  profound  silence  followed  this 
speech;  after  wnich  Paul  Midler,  approaching 
the  mound,  desired  that  the  body  might  be  low- 
ered into  the  grai^e.  When  this  was  done,  he 
addres.sed  first  the  Delawares,  setting  forth  the 
virtues  of  the  deceased  chieftain,  and  laying  the 
greatest  stress  upon  those  which  were  of  a  more 
mild  and  peaceful  character.  He  touched  also 
most  feelingly  upon  the  occasion  on  which  he 
had  received  the  injuries  from  which  he  died, 
assuring  the  Delawares  that  no  length  of  lime, 
nor  changes  of  life,  would  ever  efface  from  the 
memory  of  Prairie-bird,  or  those  to  whom  she 
was  so  dear,  the  devoted  heroism  of  her  deliver- 
er. "But,  my  beloved  brothers,"  said  he,  in 
conclusion,  "great  as  was  the  gift  that  he  gave 
to  her,  even  his  life  for  hers,  he  received  from 
her  a  gift  much  greater;  for  it  is  my  humble 
hope  and  belief  that,  through  her  entreaty  and 
prayer,  his  eyes  were  open  to  see  things  that  he 
had  never  seen  before;  and,  having  once  seen 
their  riches  and  their  beauty,  he  desired  thai 
you,  my  brothers,  should  see  them  loo.  He 
learned  what,  I  fear,  you  cannot  yet  understand 
—that  it  is  the  will  of  the  Great  "Spirit  that  we 
should  observe  and  study  his  works,  and  copy 
them.  Is  it  true,  my  friends  1  Is  there  sense 
in  my  words  V 

He  paused  for  a  reply.  The  elder  Delawares 
looked  at  each  other,  and  then,  as  if  by  mutua» 
consent,  nodded  their  assent. 

The  Missionary  continued:  "Well,  then,  the 
Great  Spirit  is  merciful  and  just,  kind  and  for- 
giving, loving  peace  and  hating  strife.     How 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


195 


1o  we  try  to  please  hini?  By  hating  peace,  and 
being  swift  to  shed  blood;  by  revenging  where 
we  ought  to  forgive,  and  dealing  harshly  by 
those  on  whom  we  ought  to  have  mercy.  '  The 
Osages  who  are  just  gone  are  wicked  men; 
they  have  been  guilty  of  treachery  and  cruelty, 
end  you  are  disappointed  that  you  were  not  per- 
mitted to  kill  them,  and  that  Wingenund  sent 
them  away  unhurt.  They  have  been  wicked, 
far  more  wicked,  towards  the  Great  Spirit;  they 
have  disobeyed  His  commands,  despised  His 
laws,  destroyed  the  creatures  of  His  hand,  and 
have  insulted  Him  and  braved  His  anger  for 
weeks,  and  months,  and  years !  How  has  he 
treated  them  1  He  has  given  them  water  from 
His  clouds,  and  has  brought  the  herds  of  bisou 
to  their  hunting-ground,  and  has  given  the  sun 
to  warm  them  by  day,  and  the  moon  and  stars 
to  light  their  path  by  night!  And  if  even  now 
one  of  them — nay,  the  very  worst  among  them,' 
were  to  have  his  heart  softened,  and  to  turn  to 
the  Great  Spirit,  and  say, '  My  Father  in  heaven, 
I  am  sorry  for  all  the  wrong  that  I  have  done, 
O  forgive  and  guide  me,  for  1  wish  to  do  so  no 
more  !'  it  is  written  in  that  book  by  the  hand  of 
the  Great  Spirit  himself,  that  He  would  forgive 
that  sorrowful  man,  and  bless  him,  and  turn  the 
bitterness  of  his  heart  into  gladness  and  joy 
sweeter  than  honey  I  These  things,  my  dear 
brothers,  are  not  learned  in  a  day ;  but,  1  thank 
God  that  by  His  blessing,  and  the  affectionate 
and  patient  labours  of  Olitipa,  the  eyes  of  War- 
Eagle  were  opened  to  see  them ;  and  he  desired 
that  those  whom  he  most  loved  should  sea  and 
feel  them  like  himself  We  will  now  take  our 
last  farewell  of  him  on  earth,  after  the  manner 
of  those  who  love,  fear,  and  obey  the  word  of 
the  Father  of  us  all." 

Having  thus  spoken,  the  worthy  Missionary 
knelt  by  the  side  of  the  newly-filled  grave,  and 
concluded  the  solemnities  of  the  occasion  by  an 
affecting  prayer  in  the  English  tongue ;  Reginald, 
Ethelston,  and  all  the  hunters  and  woodsmen, 
kneeling  uncovered,  and  finally  joining  in  that 
perfect  model  of  supplication  taught  by  the  Re- 
deemer himself  to  those  who,  in  whatever  age  or 
clime,  are  called  by  His  name. 

Having  paid  these  last  honours  to  their  de- 
parted friend,  the  leaders  of  the  party  withdrew 
to  make  the  proposed  arrangements  for  striking 
the  camp  on  the  following  morning,  and  for  set- 
tling the  line  and  order  of  march. 

TTle  Delawares  lingered  for  some  time,  as  if 
unwilling  to  leave  the  remains  of  their  beloved 
Chief,  and  at  length  slowly  retired,  one  by  one, 
until  there  remained  only  our  old  friend  Bap- 
tiste  and  a  veteran  Delawai^,  who,  from  his  feats 
of  hardihood,  and  the  stern  fierceness  of  his  na- 
ture, was  generally  known  by  the  name  of  Stony- 
heart. 

"  Grande- Hache,"  said  the  latter,  addressing 
his  companion,  "  it  may  be  all  very  good  what 
the  Black  Father  says,  but  Stony-heart  does  not 
understand  it.  When  War-Eagle  said  that  the 
Lenape  should  not  kill  those  who  had  taken  the 
scalps  of  their  warriors  or  of  their  women,  the 
Mad  Spirit  must  have  got  into  his  brain  !  Stony- 
heart  has  seen  many  winters,  and  has  heard  the 
ta.k  of  the  wise  men  in  council,  but  he  never 
heard  such  words  as  these  1" 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Baptiste  was  not  in 
his  heart  a  ve.ry  strong  advocate  for  the  doctrine 
of  forgiveness ;  we  have  already  seen  in  a  for- 
mer chapter,  that  he  was  rather  disposed  to  fa- 
vour the  Indian  law  of  retaliation  ;  he  answered, 
however,  on  this  occasion  cautiously. 


"Stony-heart  speaks  true;  yet  he  must  re- 
member that  War-Eagle  only  desired  that  his 
Lenape  brothers  should  hear  what  the  Black 
Father  had  to  say  on  this  matter ;  they  can  then 
decide  whether  his  words  are  idle  or  not.  It  wiJl 
be  easier  for  him  to  persuade  the  young  thati 
men  who  like  us  have  known  for  forty  winters 
that  the  custom  of  the  woods,  and  of  the  prai.rie, 
is  life  for  life,  and  scalp  for  scalp  '" 

"It  will,"  rejoined  the  other;  "and  Grand'se- 
Hache  will  see  that  no  good  will  follow  frcra 
having' spared  the  lives  of  those  four  Washashe 
dogs !" 

With  this  prophetic  observation.  Stony-heart 
rejoined  his  comrades,  and  Baptiste  joined  the 
small  group  assembled  before  the  door  of  the 
tent. 

On  the  following  morning  the  party  began  their 
homeward  march,  Wingenund  leading  the  way, 
followed  by  his  Delawares,  and  accompanied  by 
Besha  and  the  Crow  guide,  who  had  been  sent 
for  by  a  runner  before  daybreak.  The  packed 
mules  and  horses  were  placed  in  the  centre  un- 
der the  special  charge  of  Monsieur  Perrot,  whose 
fund  of  good-humour  and  resource  had  never 
failed  him,  and  who  now  performed  the  office  ol 
a  muleteer  with  the  same  readiness  with  which 
he  fulfilled  the  respective  duties  of  valet  to  Re- 
ginald, and  cook,  messman,  and  buffoon  to  the 
whole  party.  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  Eth- 
elston and  Reginald,  the  latter  still  keeping  his 
post  at  the  bridle  of  Nekimi,  the  line  of  march 
being  closed  by  Baptiste  and  some  of  the  most 
experienced  hunters,  while  Pierre  was  sent  for- 
ward to  aid  Wingenund,  he  being  the  most  skil- 
ful and  practised  in  the  peculiar  difficulties  of 
the  dangerous  region  which  they  were  now  abcut 
to  traverse. 

For  several  days  all  went  on  as  well  as  could 
be  expected.  The  heat  was  intense,  and  water 
was  sometimes  scarce  ;  several  of  the  mules  and 
pack-horses  dropped  down  from  exhaustion,*and 
were  left  behind;  the  stock  of  provisions  was 
somewhat  short,  but  the  party  twice  fell  in  with 
a  small  herd  of  buffalo,  from  which  they  pro- 
cured a  tolerable  supply;  and,  at  camping  time, 
they  all  assembled  round  the  fire  in  front  of 
Prairie-bird's  tent,  and,  after  their  frugal  evening 
meal,  wore  away  the  time  with  conversation 
suited  to  the  different  groups  into  which  the  par- 
ty divided  itself,  some  talking  over  lormer  cam- 
paigns, others  cracking  their  jokes  and  enjoying 
the  laugh  which  invariably  followed  Perrot's  de- 
termined attempts  to  explain  himsell  in  the  Dei- 
aware  tongue,  while  Reginald,  Ethelston,  and 
Prairie-bird  lived  over  again  the  days  of  their 
childhoocf,  or  recounted  to  each  other  some  ol 
the  most  interesting  incidents  of  the  interven- 
ing years. 

AH  remarked  the  changed  aspect  and  increased 
gravity  of  Wingenund  ;  his  manner  was  indeed 
gentle  and  quiet  as  before,  but  the  death  of  his 
brother,  and  the  responsibility  now  entrusted  tc 
him,  added  to  other  serious  matters  which  occu- 
pied his  mind,  seemed  in  him  to  have  annihila- 
ted the  interval  between  early  youth  and  ripened 
manhood.  First  to  rise  before  daybreak,  and 
last  to  lie  down  at  night,  he  seemed  unconscious 
of  fatigue,  and  resolved  that  on  this  occasion  at 
least,  the  Delawares  should  not  from  his  neglect 
be  reminded  of  the  loss  that  they  had  so  lately  sus- 
tained. At  night  he  visited  the  sentries  and 
saw  that  every  one  was  at  his  allotted  post,  and 
on  the  march,  whenever  the  nature  of  the  ground 
rendered  precauti«i     'tefiessary  scouts  were  sent 


196 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


forward  to  examine  it,  and  to  guard  against 
ambush  or  surprise.  Every  evening  he  joined 
the  little  party  before  the  tent,  and  never  left  it 
without  wishing  his  sister  (as  he  still  called 
Prairie-bird)  a  night  of  rest,  and  asking  a  bless- 
ing from  the  lips  of  the  Black  Father. 

The  Crows  behaved  upon  this  occasion  better 
than  had  been  expected  of  them,  camping  always 
at  a  certain  distance  from  the  allied  party,  and 
observing  faithfully  the  other  conditions  of  the 
treaty.  The  Guide  whom  they  had  supplied  led 
the  way  towards  the  Great  Prairie,  by  a  valley 
considerably  to  the  northward  of  that  by  which 
they  had  entered  the  mountain  region,  and  Pierre 
soon  perceived  that  its  eastern  termination  was  at 
a  spot  that  was  easily  recognised,  by  all  experi- 
enced trappers,  as  the  "Devil's  Kettle,"  owing 
to  the  steam  that  ascended  from  a  hot-spring, 
celebrated  for  its  medicinal  qualities  among  the 
neighbouring  tribes. 

Here  the  fresh  horses  promised  by  the  Crows 
were  supplied,  and  an  equal  number  of  those  ex- 
hausted and  incapable  of  further  travel  were  lett 
behind.  Nekimi  alone  of  the  whole  quadruped 
band,  seemed  insensible  alike  to  the  scantiness 
of  pasture,  and  the  heat  and  fatigue  of  the  jour- 
ney. The  fair  burthen  that  he  bore  was  as  that 
of  a  feather  compared  to  the  powerful  frame  of 
his  former  rider  when  armed  and  equipped,  and 
the  noble  animal  seemed  desirous  of  expressing 
his  gratitude  for  the  change  by  rubbing  his  fore- 
head against  Regi-nald  as  he  walked  before  him, 
or  nibbling  out  of  his  hand  a  kw  young  shoots 
of  alder  or  willow  that  he  was  now  and  then  for- 
:unate  enough  to  cut  by  the  half-dried  bed  of 
some  mountain  stream. 

In  this  way  they  travelled  forward  without  ac- 
cident or  adventure,  until  they  reached  the  banks 
of  a  river  of  considerable  size,  which  Pierre  con- 
jectured to  be  the  head-water  of  the  southern-fork 
of  the  Neosho,  or  the  Platte,  and  here  they  were 
10  complete  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  and  bid  adieu 
to  their  Upsaroka  friends,  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river  not  being  considered  within  the  limits 
of  their  hunting  ground. 

The  ceremonials  observed  upon  this  occasion 
were  much  the  same  as  the  preceding,  with  the 
exception  that  Bending-willow  paid  a  visit  to 
Prairie-bird,  received  from  her  several  presents, 
drank  a  cup  of  the  wonderful  black  liquor,  of 
which  her  husband  had  told  her,  namely,  coffee 
sweetened  with  sugar,  and  told  her  fair  hostess 
that  his  affections  had  not  as  yet  strayed  to  any 
other  of  his  spouses — a  fact  the  truth  of  which 
was  attested  by  her  displaying,  with  the  mosi 
ostentatious  coquetry,  the  mirror-backed  brush, 
of  which  he  was  more  proud  than  of  anything 
that  he  possessed. 

Besha  made  himself  wonderfully  busy  during 
the  payment  of  the  presents  due  to  the  Crows; 
and  in  one  or  two  instances  when  the  latter  claim- 
ed more  than  was  recorded  in  Reginald's  memo- 
randum, he  stoutly  maintained  that  the  white 
men  were  right,  and  recommended  the  Crows  to 
withdraw  their  pretensions;  in  so  doing  he  did 
not  neglect  to  whisper  every  now  and  then  to 
Baptiste  or  Pierre,  a  hint  that  he  intended  to  be 
paid  for  his  disinterested  support. 

All  this  was  not  lost  upon  White-Bull,  who, 
although  he  could  not  understand  a  word  of  what 
passed,  felt,  nevertheless,  convinced  that  the  in- 
terpreter was  playing  some  under-game.  He 
said  nothing,  however,  and  the  distribution  was 
satisfactorily  completed,  Wingenund  and  Regi- 
nald adding  gratuitously  several  presents  for  the 


chiefs  beyond  those  premised  in  the  treaty.  Be- 
sha, to  the  surprise  of  many  of  the  Crows  who 
knew  his  avaricious  disposition,  went  away, 
apparently  well  satisfied,  with  nothing  more  than 
a  blanket  and  a  knife;  but  they  did  not  know 
that  he  had  privately  whispered  to  Baptiste  that 
he  would  come  by  night  to  fetch  away  his  stipu- 
lated share  of  the  presents  (and  that  too  a  lion'j 
share),  as  the  Crows  might  be  jealous  if  they 
saw  them,  and  might  take  them  from  him. 

The  two  parties  having  taken  their  final  leave 
of  each  other,  the  task  of  guide  devolved  upon 
Pierre,  who  resolved  not  to  cross  the  Platte  that 
evening,  it  being  now  rather  late,  but  to  encamp 
where  they  were,  while  the  Crows  returned  some 
dozen  miles  upon  their  trail  before  they  encamp- 
ed for  the  night.  They  had  seen  enough  of  ths 
effective  force  and  discipline  of  the  allied  band 
to  deter  them  frem  attacking  it,  and  prudently 
resolved  to  return  to  their  own  country  with  the 
goods  which  they  had  already  acquired  without 
loss  or  risk;  although  it  becomes  us,  as  vera- 
cious historians,  to  state  (however  little  credit 
the  statement  may  reflect  upon  White-Bull)  that 
it  had  been,  from  the  first,  his  intention  to  attack 
and  plunder  the  party,  had  their  carelessness  or 
neglect  afforded  him  an  opportunity  of  doing  so 
with  impunity. 

Besha  having  ascertained  the  spot  selected  foi 
the  Crow  encampment,  lingered  behind  their  lim 
of  march,  accompanied  by  the  lad  before-men- 
tioned as  being  his  constant  attendant,  whom  he 
left  concealed,  with  two  of  his  horses,  behind  a 
small  hillock  beside  the  trail,  desiring  him  there 
to  await  his  return.  In  order  to  avoid  suspicion, 
he  continued  in  the  company  of  White-Bull  unti' 
it  was  dusk,  and  did  not  leave  the  camp  until  an 
hour  later,  when  he  threw  a  large  dark-coloured 
blanket  over  his  shoulders,  and  slipping  away 
imperceived,  rejoined  the  lad  left  in  charge  ol 
the  horses. 

Mounting  one  himself,  he  desired  his  com- 
panion to  follow  on  the  other,  and  trotted  briskly 
forward,  under  the  partial  light  of  a  young  moon, 
over  the  ground  which  he  had  carefully  noted 
during  the  day,  until  he  reached  a  spot  where  the 
trail  approached  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
banks  of  the  Platte,  and  where  a  few  alder  bushes 
offered  convenient  shelter  for  the  horses.  Here 
the  lad  was  again  desired  to  await  his  master's 
return;  and  as  the  dew  began  to  fall  heavy,  he 
was  not  sorry  that  the  latter  left  with  him- the 
large  dark-coloured  blanket  above-mentioned. 

Besha  now  pursued  his  way  on  foot;  and  on 
reaching  the  outposts  of  the  allied  band  found, 
as  had  been  preconcerted,  two  of  the  Delawares 
bearing  several  large  packages,  containing  the 
presents  and  goods  that  he  had  earned  in  his 
mixed  capacity  of  diplomatic  agent  and  inter- 
preter. The  packages  being  inconvenient  for 
the  horse-dealer  to  carry  alone,  both  on  account 
of  their  weight  and  number,  he  prevailed  upon 
one  of  the  Delawares  to  assist  him  in  carrying 
them  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the  horses.  It 
was  only  by  offering  the  Indian,  who  was  no  other 
than  Stony-heart,  a  little  bag  full  of  excellent 
kinne-kinnik  for  his  pipe,  that  he  prevailed  upon 
him  to  undertake  this  task.  But  the  materials  for 
smoking  had  become  scarce,  and  it  was  an  in- 
dulgence from  which,  when  within  reach.  Stony- 
heart  could  not  refrain  ;  he  accordingly  sent  back 
his  companion,  and,  telling  him  that  he  would 
return  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two,  set  forth 
with  the  horse-dealer  on  the  trail. 

We  must  now  see  how  it  fared  with  the  lad 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


197 


iCd  in  charge  of  the  horses,  who,  being  tired  with 
the  day's  march,  fastened  the  end  of  their  long 
hahers  to  his  arm,  and  wrapping  himself  in  the 
blanket,  laid  down  upon  the  grass,  and  soon  fell 
into  a  comfortabie  doze.  One  of  the  horses, 
probably  disliking  this  unusual  separation  from 
those  with  which  it  was  accustomed  at  this  hour 
to  feed,  neighed  several  times  aloud,  for  which 
disturbance  of  his  slumber  it  received  a  pull  of 
the  halter,  and  a  muttered  execration  from  the 
youth,  when  he  again  fell  into  a  state  of  uncon- 
sciousness. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  neighing  of  the 
horse  reached  other  ears  at  no  great  distance, 
being  those  of  no  less  a  person  than  the  Osage, 
who,  with  his  three  companions,  was  on  his 
homeward  way,  and  had  on  the  preceding  day 
stolen  an  old  canoe  that  they  found  on  the  bank 
of  the  river;  and  after  patching  up  a  few  rents 
and  holes,  had  embarked  in  it  to  save  themselves 
a  portion  of  their  long  foot  journey.  They  had 
seen  from  a  distance  the  moving  bands  of  the 
white  men  and  of  the  Crows,  and  had  hauled 
t'heir  canoe  under  some  alder  bushes  on  the  bank, 
in  order  to  consult  and  determine  whether  they 
should  drop  further  down  the  river  during  the 
night,  or  leaving  it,  strike  a  more  southerly 
course. 

While  holding  this  consultation,  the  neighing 
of  Besha's  horse  caught  the  quick  ear  of  their 
leader;  he  listened — and  hearing  it  repeated, 
crept  towards  the  spot,  followed  by  his  three  com- 
panions. As  soon  as  the  uncertain  light  of  the 
moan  enabled  him  to  distinguish  the  two  pack- 
horses  fastened  to  the  sleeping  lad,  he  again  crept 
noiselessly  forward,  and  springing  upon  him,  en- 
veloped him  in  his  own  blanket,  stuffing  the  cor- 
ner of  it  into  his  mouth,  so  that  he  could  neither 
struggle  nor  make  any  noise. 

Leaving  one  of  his  men  in  charge  of  the  hor- 
ses, he  carried  the  youth  swiftly  to  the  water's 
edge,  where  he  securely  pinioned  and  gagged 
him,  not,  however,  before  he  had  recognised  by 
the  moonlight  the  countenance  of  Besha's  attend- 
ant. The  Osage's  plan  was  soon  formed ;  for  he 
rightly  conjectured  that  the  horse-dealer  was 
gone  upon  some  errand,  from  which  he  would 
not  return  empty  handed;  and  he  also  owed  the 
horse-dealer  a  grudge  for  having,  as  he  suppo- 
sed, favoured  Wingenund  in  that  eventful  scene 
which  terminated  Mahega's  life. 

Stripping  the  youth  of  his  dark  blanket  and  of 
the  broad-brimmed  hat  of  Mexican  grass  that  he 
wore,  the  Osage  put  them  on  himself;  and  ta- 
king his  seat  by  the  same  bush,  he  held  the  halt- 
ers of  the  horses,  and  partially  concealing  his 
face  in  one  of  the  folds  of  the  blanket,  awaited  in 
this  disguise  the  return  o(  the  horse-dealer,  while 
his  three  companions  concealed  themselves  be- 
hind the  adjacent  bushes. 

They  had  not  been  very  long  ensconced  before 
Besha  appeared,  followed  by  the  doughty  Stony- 
heart,  who  muttered  to  himself  as  he  came  that 
he  would  not  carry  such  a  load  so  far  again  for 
all  the  kinne-kinnik  in  the  camp.  The  horse- 
dealer  as  he  drew  near  gave  the  usual  signal- 
whistle  for  his  attendant;  and  finding  that  it  was 
unanswered,  looked  towards  the  spot,  where  he 
descried  the  Siumbering  figure  in  the  slouched 
nat  and  dark  blanket;  while  one  of  his  pack- 
horses,  lately  cast  loose,  seemed  to  be  deliberate- 
ly walking  oiT  to  seek  better  pasture.  Hastily 
throwing  his  own  package  to  the  ground,  he  went 
to  secure  the  stray  animal,  calling  at  the  same 
time  to  Stony-heart, 


"  Kick  that  sleepy  dog  till  he  wakens,  that  he 
may  come  and  assist  me  with  these  packs." 

The  Delaware,  who  was  not  a  man  of  many 
words,  proceeded  forthwith  to  execute  this  order, 
and,  without  putting  down  his  heavy  ioad,  be- 
stowed a  sound  kick  upon  the  reclining  figure, 
which,  to  his  infinite  surprise,  started  instantly 
to  its  feet  in  the  shape  of  a  powerful  man,  who 
threw  him,  encumbered  as  he  was,  upcn  the 
ground,  and  successfully  resisted  all  his  violent 
efforts  to  extricate  himself.  While  one  of  the 
Osages  came  to  assist  in  securing  the  fallen  Del- 
aware, the  other  two  seized  the  unlucky  horse- 
dealer,  just  as  he  was  mounting  in  the  hope  of 
saving  himself  by  flight. 

So  successiully  had  the  Osages  planned  and 
executed  this  manoeuvre,  that  in  less  than  five 
minutes  their  last  two  prisoners  were  laid  bound 
and  pinioned  together  with  the  first  in  the  canoe, 
where  the  captured  bales  and  presents  were  also 
stowed  away,  and  while  one  of  the  Osages  took 
the  horses  to  a  ford  not  far  distant,  which  had 
been  recently  crossed  by  a  large  herd  of  bison, 
the  remaining  three,  with  their  prisoners,  pad- 
dled across  the  river,  and  then  noiselessly  along 
the  opposite  bank,  until  they  had  reached  a  deep 
and  winding  creek,  which  fell  into  the  main  riv- 
er, and  which  they  had  noticed  by  daylight  as 
affording  convenient  fuel  and  shelter.  Having 
pursued  their  way  up  the  creek  until  they  con- 
sidered themselves  safe  from  pursuit,  and  their 
fire  from  the  observation  of  either  encampment, 
they  gathered  and  lighted  a  goodly  pile  '  J  dry  al- 
der-wood, and  proceeded  deliberately  to  unpack 
and  examine  the  bales  and  packages,  throwing 
their  three  pinioned  captives  roughly  on  one  side, 
as  being  so  much  live  lumber  unworthy  of  their 
notice. 

The  plunder  that  they  found  themselves  thus 
suddenly  possessed  of  exceeded  their  utmost  ex- 
pectations; and  as  it  contained,  among  other 
things,  a  package  of  excellent  dried  meat  and 
the  kinne-kinnik,  from  which  poor  Stony-heart 
had  expected  so  much  gratification,  they  ate  co- 
piously of  the  former,  and  smoked  copiously  of 
the  latter,  until  they  were  in  the  highest  possible 
state  of  Osage  enjoyment. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  were  joined  by  their 
comrade  with  the  horses,  who  received,  as  sooa 
as  he  had  fastened  the  latter,  his  due  share  both 
of  the  provisions  and  the  plunder;  after  which 
they  ungagged  the  prisoners,  at  the  same  time 
giving  them  to  understand  that  if  they  made  the 
least  noise  they  would  be  put  to  death  immedi- 
ately. Indeed,  whether  they  were  noisy  or  quiet, 
it  seemed  by  no  means  improbable  that  such 
might  be  their  fate,  for  two  of  the  Osages  stronj^- 
ly  urged  the  necessity  for  so  doing,  under  the 
plea  of  self-preservation.  The  leader  seemed, 
however,  to  be  of  a  different  opinion,  and  he  had 
already  established  a  kind  of  prescriptive  right 
of  command  over  his  comrades. 

Having  thrown  some  dry  sticks  upon  the  fire 
to  make  it  blaze,  he  drew  Stonj'-heart  towarda 
the  light,  and  as  it  fell  upon  his  countenance  en- 
abled him  to  recognise  in  his  prisoner  one  of  the 
chief  warriors  of  the  Delaware  band. 

"Is  Stony-heart  become  a  mule,"  said  he  with 
a  grin,  "  that  he  carries  bales  and  blankets  upon 
his  back  V 

To  this  taunt  Stony-heart  did  not  deign  to  le- 
ply,  and  a  brief  conversation  ensued  among  the 
Osages;  after  which  their  leader  came  again  to 
him,  and  having  searched  his  dress,  satisfied 
himself  that  the  Delaware  had  no  other  arms 


198 


THE    PRAIRIE. BIRD. 


with  him  than  a  knife  and  a  small  pistol  con- 
cealed in  his  belt.  The  Ibrmer  he  lelt  untouch- 
ed, but  the  latter  he  dipped  in  the  creek  until  it 
was  thoroughly  soaked,  and  then  returned  it  to 
the  owner,  whom,  having  now  released  from  his 
bands,  he  thus  addressed : 

"Stony-heart  may  return  to  his  people';  he  is 
free  ;  and  he  may  tell  Wingenund  that  the  Was- 
hashe  know  how  to  repay  a  good  deed,  as  well 
as  to  revenge  a  bad  one.     Stony-heart  may  go !" 

The  Delaware  waited  no  second  bidding,  but 
returned  with  all  haste  towards  his  camp,  being 
obliged  to  swim  the  river,  and  muttering  to  him- 
self, after  he  had  crossed  it,  "  I  told  Baptiste 
that  no  good  could  ever  come  of  sparing  the 
lives  of  those  Washashe  dogs !"  sucR  being  the 
only  gratitude  that  he  either  felt  or  expressed  for 
the  clemency  that  he  had  just  experienced  at 
their  hands! 

Soon  after  his  departure,  the  Osages  turned 
their  attention  to  Besha,  sternly  questioning  him 
as  to  the  part  he  had  taken  in  their  late  chief's 
dispute  with  Wingenund;  and  in  spite  of  all  his 
protestations  of  impartiality  and  innocence,  they 
stripped  him  of  every  article  of  clothing  save  his 
moccasins,  and  gave  him  a  most  severe  flogging 
with  a  laryette  of  buU's-hide,  after  which  they 
decamped,  leaving  him  still  pinioned,  and  writh- 
ing with  pain,  while  they  carried  with  them  his 
attendant,  whom  they  compelled  to  load  and  ar- 
range the  packs  upon  the  horses,  and  to  lead  the 
latter  for  the  first  dozen  miles  of  their  route; 
after  which  they  permitted  him  to  return  to  re- 
lease his  master,  who  crawled  back  with  diffi- 
culty, before  daylight,  to  tlje  Crow  camp,  hav- 
ing reaped  the  reward  of  his  intrigues,  cunning, 
and  avarice,  in  the  loss  of  all  his  presents,  two 
of  his  best  horses,  and  a  flogging,  from  the  ef- 
fects of  which  he  suffered  for  a  long  lime. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

The  Scene  is  shifted  to  the  Banks  of  the  Muskingum,  and 
Prairie-bird  returns  to  the  Home  of  her  Childhood. 

About  two  months  after  the  events  related  in 
the  preceding  chapters,  there  was  an  unusual 
stir  and  bustle  in  the  town  of  Marietta,  and  half 
a  score  of  its  principal  inhabitants  were  assem- 
bled in  front  of  David  Muir's  house,  to  witness 
the  landing  of  the  crew  and  passengers  belong- 
ing to  a  large  boat  that  had  just  arrived  at  the 
wooden  pier  which  projected  into  the  river. 

Foremost  of  a  busy  group  at  the  water's  edge 
was  the  sturdy  form  of  Gregson  the  mate,  whose 
orders  respecting  the  bringing-to,  and  making 
fast,  were  implicitly  obeyed;  and  when  at  length 
she  was  securely  moored  alongside  the  pier,  nu- 
merous and  hearty  were  the  greetings  between 
those  who  stepped  ashore  from  her,  and  the 
friends  from  whom  they  had  been  so  long  sev- 
ered. 

"  Bearskin,  how  are  youl  my  old  fresh- water 
porpoise  1"  said  the  mate,  squeezing  the  hard 
hand  of  the  Mississippi  boatman.  "  How  fares 
it,  cj'issmate  V 

"A,]  right  now,  my  hearty;  but  we've  had 
»cme  foul  weather  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"  Ay,  I  see !"  said  the  mate,  observing  the 
•  scars  upon  his  old  companion's  face  and  fore- 
head ;  "  you've  been  snagged,  and  damaged  your 
figure-head  a  bit:  never  mind  thai;  we'll  have 
all  that  yarn  out  by-and-by  over  a  bottle  of  Da- 
vid's best.  See,  here  he  comes  to  welcome  you 
timsclfl" 


Leaving  DaVid  Muir  and  Bearskin  to  tneir 
mutual  greetings,  the  mate  returned  to  the  water- 
side  and  lent  his  powerful  assistance  to  the  land- 
ing of  the  cargo  of  the  heavily-laden  boat;  and 
certainly,  a  more  strange  or  heterogeneous  mix- 
ture of  animate  and  inanimate  stock  never  camb 
out  of  any  vessel  since  the  disembarkation  from 
the  ark.  Skins,  furs,  bows,  rifles,  moccasius,  anc 
Indian  curiosities  of  every  description,  were  pilec 
near  the  bows,  while  in  the  after-part  were  stow^ 
ed  provisions  of  all  kinds,  and  kegs,  which  were 
by  no  means  so  full  as  they  were  when  the  boat 
left  St.  Louis. 

The  appearance,  language,  and  costume  of 
the  crew  would  bafile  any  attempt  at  descrip. 
tion,  inasmuch  as  each  sunburnt,  unshavcd  in- 
dividual  composing  it,  had  equipped  and  attired 
himself  according  to  his  own  fancy,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  contents  of  his  remaining  wardrobe 
after  a  long  sojouin  in  the  western  wilderness 
and  when  it  is  remembered  that  these  hardy  fel- 
lows were  from  all  the  varied  clans  and  nations 
found  between  the  sources  and  the  mouth  of  the 
"  Father  of  Waters,"  it  is  not  surprising  that 
their  mingled  jargon  should  have  struck  upon 
the  ear  like  the  dialects  of  Babel  in  the  day  of 
its  confusion.  There  were  hail-breed  Creeks  and 
Cherokees;  Canadians,  some  with  no  little  ad- 
mixture of  Chippeway  blood;  others,  proud  of 
their  pure  French  descent :  there  were  also  some 
of  the  rough  boatmen,  who  had  already  migra- 
ted to  the  banks  of  the  Great  River,  where  it 
washes  the  western  boundaries  of  what  are  now 
the  States  of  Kentucky  and  Illinois ;  and  a  raw- 
boned,  sinewy  fellow,  who  acted  as  a  sort  of 
second  mate,  was  giving  instructions  in  broad 
Scotch,  to  a  dark-eyed  and  diminutive  individ- 
ual, who  replied  to  him  in  bad  Spanish.  Above 
the  din  of  all  these  multifarious  tongues,  was 
heard  the  shrill  and  incessant  voice  of  Monsieui 
Perrot,  who  was  labouring  with  indefatigable 
zeal  to  collect  his  master's  baggage,  and  to  put 
it  safely  ashore. 

This  he  was  at  length  enabled  to  efiect  with 
the  aid  of  David  Muir  and  the  mate;  after 
which  the  articles  destined  for  Mooshanne  were 
piled  in  readiness  for  the  wagon  which  was  to 
convey  them,  and  the  remainder  found  their  way 
by  degrees  to  their  respective  destinations. 

When  at  last  the  good-humoured  valet  found 
himself  comfortably  seated  in  the  merchant's 
parlour  with  the  worthy  man  himself,  Dame 
Christie,  Jessie,  and  the  mate,  for  his  audience, 
and  a  bottle  of  madeira,  with  some  fried  ham 
and  fresh  eggs  upon  the  table,  he  gave  a  sigh, 
the  importance  of  which  was  lost  upon  none  of 
those  present,  and  he  looked  from  one  to  the  oth- 
er with  the  conscious  superiority  of  a  man  who 
knows  how  much  he  has  to  tell. 

It  is  not  our  province  to  follow  him  through 
the  "  hair-breadth  'scapes,"  the  "  moving  acci- 
dents by  flood  and  field,"  with  which  he  set  his 
astonished  hearers  "all  agape;"  the  only  portion 
of  his  narrative  which  it  concerns  us  to  know,  is 
that  which  referred  to  the  movements  of  Regi- 
nald Brandon  and  the  remainder  of  his  party, 
who  might,  according  to  Monsieur  Perrot's  ac- 
count, be  almost  daily  expected  at  Mooshanne, 
as  they  had  left  St.  Louis  and  cros.sed  its  ferry 
with  tent,  baggage,  and  a  large  cavalcade,  on 
the  day  of  his  embarkation  in  the  great  "  Bat- 
teau." 

It  was  so  long  since  Monsieur  Perrot  had 
tasted  any  liquid  with  a  flavour  like  that  of  the 
merchant's  madeira,  that  he  sipped  and  talked, 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


199 


talked  and  liipped,  without  noting  the  lapse  of 
time,  6nd  the  evening  was  already  far  advanced 
before  he  thought  of  rising  to  take  his  departure 
for  Mooshanne ;  even  then,  David  Muir  pressed 
him  so  strongly  to  remain  with  him  over-night, 
and  continue  his  journey  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, that  Monsieur  Perrot  found  himself  quite 
unable  to  resist  accepting  the  invitation ;  espe- 
rially  as  he  thought  that  another  day  or  two 
might  probably  elapse  before  the  return  of  Regi- 
nald; and,  moreover,  the  bright  eyes  of  Jessie 
Muir  looked  a  thousand  times  brighter  from  the 
contrast  that  her  beauty  afforded  to  the  swart 
dusky  complexions  by  which  he  had  so  lately 
been  surrounded. 

Leaving  the  merry  Frenchman  and  his  still 
wondering  auditors  in  David's  parlour,  we  will 

Eroceed  without  delay  to  Mooshanne,  where  it 
appened  that,  about  four  o'clock  on  the  same 
afternoon,  a  single  horseman  sprang  from  the 
animal  that,  to  judge  from  its  appearance,  had 
carried  him  far  and  fast,  and,  having  rung  the 
door-bell,  waited  not  for  any  one  to  answer  it, 
but  walked  straight  into  the  vestibule. 

The  bell  was  still  ringing  when  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room  v/as  slightly  opened  that  the  blue 
eyes  of  Lucy  might  herself  reconnoitre  the  new 
comer;  the  nest  moment  saw  her  in  her  broth- 
er's arms. 

"  Dear,  dear  Reginald !  'tis  he,  'tis  he,  indeed !" 
and  she  drew  him  into  the  room  that  her  father 
might  share  her  rapturous  joy. 

AVhile  the  Colonel  pressed  his  son  to  his  heart 
in  a  fond  paternal  embrace,  Lucy  ran  up  stairs 
to  prepare  the  more  delicate  nerves  of  her  inva- 
lid mother  for  the  shock  of  happiness  that  await- 
ed her. 

Scarcely  were  the?e  first  affectionate  greetings 
exchanged,  ere  Lucy  inquired  with  expectant 
eagerness,  "When  will  they  arrive'? — how  far 
off  are  they,  Reginald  V 

"They  cannot  now  be  long;  I  think  within  a 
coujile  of  hours  they  must  be  here.  If  I  mistake 
not,  Lucy,  there  is  one  of  the  party  who  be- 
grudged me  not  a  little  my  office  oiavant-coitrier." 

Lucy  blushed  "  celestial  rosy  red,  love's  prop- 
er huej"  as  she  felt  how  her  heart  leaped  within 
her  to  meet  the  one  to  whom  her  brother  refer- 
red ;  and  she  hastened  away  to  conceal  her  min- 
gled confusion  and  happiness,  in  the  thousand 
little  details  of  preparation  for  her  expected 
guests. 

It  may  be  as  well  here  to  mention,  that  imme- 
diately on  reaching  St.  Louis,  Reginald  had  dis- 
patched a  messenger  on  horseback  to  his  father 
with  a  letter,  containing  the  outline  of  the  events 
connected  with  his  western  expedition,  and  in- 
forming him  of  the  rescue  of  Prairie-bird,  and 
of  the  attachment  that  existed  between  her  and 
himself  He  spoke  not  of  her  parentage,  further 
than  to  say  that  she  had  been  carried  off  in  child- 
hood from  her  own  family,  who  were  of  a  line- 
age and  descent  altogether  unexceptionable ;  and 
he  entreated  and  conjured  his  father  not  to  en- 
tertain, nor  prcQouce  any  objection  to  his  pro- 
posed alliance,  until  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
seeing,  hearing,  and  judging  for  himself 

Reginald  had  also  insisted  upon  Ethelston's 
Ebstaining  from  this  topic  in  any  letter  that  he 
might  wish  to  send  from  St.  Louis,  and  the  Col- 
onel had  thought  it  advisable  to  say  nothing  to 
Lucy  of  her  brother's  attachment,  while  there 
'emained  a  doubt  of  its  being  such  as  he  could 
approve  or  sanction ;  so  that  he  had  only  inform- 
ni  her  that  the  party  would  bring  back  with 


them  Prairie-bird,  whom  the  young  Delaware 
had  mentioned  so  often  as  his  sister,  but  who 
was,  in  fact,  the  daughter  of  English  parents,  of 
the  highest  respectability;  and  that  she  would  be 
accompanied  by  Paul  Miiller,  a  missionary, 
whose  reputation  for  piety  and  learning  was  ex- 
tensively spread,  and  who  had  been,  since  her 
residence  with  the  Indians,  her  instracvcr  and 
adopted  father. 

Lucy's  curiosity  to  see  Prairie-bird  hac  c^en, 
since  the  arrival  of  her  brother's  letter,  extraor- 
dinarily excited.  Sometimes  she  fancied  l.er  a 
half-wild,  half-civilized  being  clad  in  a  dress  of 
skins,  and  speaking  broken  English.  Then 
again  she  was  puzzled  at  the  remembrance  of 
the  affectionate  reverence,  almost  amounting  to 
worship,  with  which  Wingenund  had  spok^  n  of 
her,  and  again  her  calculation  was  at  fault.  Un- 
der these  doubts  and  perplexities,  she  consulted 
Aunt  Mary,  and  with  her  aid  and  concurrence 
had  prepared  for  her  expected  guest  a  room  upon 
the  ground  floor,  that  looked  upon  her  own  flow- 
er-garden. Its  furniture  was  simple,  but  ex- 
ceedingly pretty,  being  a  kind  of  representation 
of  a  tent,  of  an  octagon  shape,  and  hung  with  a 
delicate-coloured  pink  cl^intz. 

The  view  from  the  windows  was  lovely;  for 
although  the  flowery  parterres  had  lost  their 
brightest  summer  hues,  a  few  roses  still  lingered 
among  them,  contrasting  with  the  thousand  au- 
tumnal colours  that  decked  the  shady  mass  of 
distant  forests,  between  which  and  the  flower- 
garden  was  seen  here  and  there,  through  a  leafy 
vista,  the  winding  course  of  the  Muskingum. 
Lucy  had  decked  the  interior  of  the  room  with 
all  those  nameless  comforts  and  luxuries  that 
betoken  woman's  affectionate  care :  several 
shelves  were  covered  with  well-selected  books, 
and  two  china  baskets  upon  the  table  were  filled 
with  siTcli  flowers  as  the  indefatigable  Aunt 
Mary  had  placed  there,  unconscious  for  whom 
she  gathered  them. 

As  soon.^s  Reginald  had  enjo3'ed  a  short  in- 
terview with  his  mother,  whose  health,  though 
still  delicate,  had  somewhat  improved  since  he 
had  last  seen  her,  Lucy  entered,  and  taking  him 
by  the  arm,  said,  "Come,  P».eginald,  you  must 
inspect  my  preparations.  See,  this  is  your  own 
room,  which  you  will  find  rather  more  gay  than 
when  you  lelt  it,  as  Aunt  Mary  would  have  it 
new-papered.  That  beyond  is  destined,  as  b& 
fore,  for  Ed — for  Ethelston." 

"  Has  Aunt  Mary  thought  it  requisite  to  new- 
paper  that,  too,  or  did  it  occur  to  Miss  Lucy 
without  her  aunt's  suggestion  1" 

Lucy  punished  him  with  a  slight  pinch  on  the 
arm;  and  then,  leading  him  down  the  stairs  to 
the  tent  apartment,  said  to  him,  "Now,  sir,  I 
will  show  you  what  I  have  prepared  for  youi 
Indian  lady;  this  is  Prairie-bird's  room." 

The  tell-tale  blood  rushed  into  Reginald's 
bronzed  and  sunburned  cheek,  as  he  stood  with- 
in the  room  destined  to  contain  his  heart's  treas- 
ure; thoughts  far  too  sweet,  and  deep,  and  swifl 
for  words,  mingled  the  past  and  the  future  in  a 
delicious  dream,  as  bending  over  his  sister  he 
kissed  her  fair  forehead,  and  pressed  her  in  si- 
lence to  his  heart. 

With  the  intiiitive  quickness  of  sympathy, 
Lucy  read  in  that  expressive  silence  the  secret 
of  her  brother's  breast;  and  looking  up  to  him. 
half  reproachfully,  she  said,  "Reginald,  could 
not  vou  have  trusted  your  Lucy  so  far,  as  to  te„ 
her  that  Prairie-bird  would  have  a  dearer  title  to 
her  affections  than  that  of  being  Wingenund's 


900 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


sister,  or  the  child  of  the  Missionary's  adop- 
tion 1" 

"Dear  Lucy!"  replied  her  brother,  with  an 
impressive  earnestness,  that  reassured  while  it 
awed  her,  "  there  has  been  so  much  of  the  mys- 
terious and  merciful  working  of  Providence  in 
the  history  of  Prairie-bird,  that  I  am  sure  you 
will  forgive  me  when  I  ask  you  to  wait  a  few 
hours  before  all  is  explained  to  )»ou.  Mean- 
while, receive  her,  for  these  few  hours,  as  a 
guest  J  if  at  the  end  of  them  you  do  not  love  her 
as  a  sister,  my  prophetic  spirit  errs  widely  of  its 
mark." 

Lucy  saw  well  how  deeply  her  brother's  feel- 
ings were  moved,  and  she  prayed  inwardly  that 
her  expected  guest  might  fulfil  his  prophecy.  It 
must  be  owned,  however,  that  there  lurked  a 
doubt  in  her  heart  whether  it  could  be  possible 
that  a  girl  reared  i.n  an  Indian  camp  could  be  to 
her  a  sister,  or  could  be  worthy  of  that  brother, 
whom  her  fond  partiality  clothed  with  attributes 
beyond  those  which  belong  to  ordinary  mortals. 
Her  affection  for  Reginald  would  not  permit  her 
to  let  him  perceive  these  doubts ;  but  fearful  of 
betraying  them  by  her  manner,  she  left  him  in 
the  room  destined  for  Prairie-bird,  while  she 
hastened  to  aid  the  indefatigable  Aunt  Mary  in 
some  of  the  other  preparations  that  were  going 
forward;  the  Colonel  having  given  orders  that 
the  whole  parly,  of  whatever  rank  or  station, 
should  be  hospitably  entertained. 

Reginald  was  no  sooner  left  alone,  than  cast- 
ing his  ej^es  around  the  room,  a  sudden  idea  oc- 
curred to  him  of  preparing  an  agreeable  surprise 
for  his  betrothed  on  her  entrance  to  her  new 
domicile.  He  remembered  having  seen  below, 
in  the  drawing-room,  a  Spanish  guitar,  which  he 
lost  no  time  in  securing;  and  having  taken  it 
from  the  case,  he  ascertained  that  it  was  a  very 
fine  instrument,  and 'that  the  strings  were  in 
very  tolerable  order.  He  now  laid  it  upon  the 
sofa-table  in  her  room,  placing  beside  it  a  slip 
of  paper  which  he  took  from  his  pocket,  and 
which  seemed,  from  its  soiled  and  crumpled 
condition,  to  have  suffered  not  a  little  from  the 
rarious  wettings  to  which,  during  the  past 
months  of  travel,  it  had  been  exposed.  Still  he 
lingered  in  the  room,  noting  with  satisfaction  the 
various  trifling  luxuries  and  comforts  which  his 
sister  had  prepared  for  Prairie-bird,  when  sud- 
denly he  caught  the  sound  of  a  bugle-note,  in 
which  he  instantly  recognised  the  signal  to  be 
given  by  Baptiste  of  the  party's  approach. 

How  did  his  heart  beat  within  him  as  he  flew 
to  welcome  them ;  yet  were  its  throbbing  pulsa- 
tions like  the  quiet  of  sleep  compared  lo  those 
of  the  maiden,  who  now  drew  near  the  home  of 
her  infancy.  Ethelston  had  leaped  to  the  ground, 
and  half  supported  her  in  the  saddle  with  one 
hand,  while  with  the  other  he  checked  Nekimi, 
whose  impatientneigh  betrayed  his  remembrance 
of  the  corn-bin,  and  the  well-known  stall, 

"  Edward — Edward,  I  cannot  go  through  this !" 
said  the  half-fainting  girl.  "  My  thoughts  are 
all  confused — my  brain  turns  round — .^ee,  there 
is  the  house !  I  cannot  remembear  it.  O,  stay  a 
nfinute — only  one  minute,  that  I  may  recover 
myself!" 

"Dear  Evy!"  said  her  brother,  looking  up 
■while  she  leaned  affectionately  upon  his  shoul- 
der, "  'lis  natural  that  your  thoughts  should  be 
mingled  and  confused,  but  let  them  not  be  gloomy 
no7D!  The  house  is  so  changed  within  the  last 
ten  years,  that  had  you  built  it  yourself  you 
could  not  lecognise  it  in  its  present  state.    Al- 


ready I  can  distinguish  dear  Aunt  Mary's  wnlte 
cap  and  apron ;  and  Lucy,  longmg  to  embrace  a 
sister;  the  grey  locks  of  the  stately  Colonel,  aAd 
one  beside  him,  who  will  not  be  the  last  to  wel- 
come Prairie-bird !" 

"  I  can  distinguish  nothing,  Edward ;  there  is 
a  mist  before  my  eyes:  but  it  is  a  mist  of  love 
and  happiness  unspeakable  I" 

"  Courage,  dear  Evy  I"  said  her  brother  in  a 
cheering  tone;  "let  them  not  think  that  Prairie- 
bird  draws  near  with  slow,  unwilling  step,  an4 
that  her  heart  regrets  the  change  from  the  prai- 
rie to  the  scenes  of  her  childhood,  and  the  home 
of  her  choice!" 

"  Edward !"  said  his  sister  reproachfully,  while 
a  tear  started  in  her  eye,  and  the  blood  mounted 
to  her  temples ;  then  shaking  back  the  dark  locks 
fram  her  glowing  cheeks,  as  if  she  would  there- 
by shake  off  the  temporary  weakness  by  which 
she  had  been  overcome,  she  added,  "  Remount 
your  horse ;  we  have  yet  some  hundred  feet  to  go ; 
if  Prairie-bird  draws  rear  with  slov/,  unwilling 
step,  it  shall  be  Nekimi's  fault,  and  not  her  own  !" 

So  saying,  she  shook  the  loosened  rein  upon 
the  neck  of  the  fiery  steed,  which  bounding  for- 
ward with  a  spring  that  would  have  unseated  a 
less  practised  rider,  bore  her  swiftly  to  the  door, 
where  he  stopped,  obedient  to  her  delicate  hand, 
and  champed,  and  frothed,  and  snorted,  as  if 
proud  alike  of  his  burden,  and  of  his  own  match- 
less symmetry  of  form. 

Never  had  her  radiant  beauty  so  thrilled 
through  Reginald's  every  nerve  as  at  this  mo- 
ment, when,  lightly  touching  his  proffered  arm, 
she  sprang  to  the  ground ;  her  cheek  glowing 
with  agitation,  and  her  eye  moistened  by  con- 
tending emotions,  she  interchanged  with  him 
one  silent  look  of  conscious  love,  and  then  turn- 
ed, with  gentle  grace,  to  receive  the  greeting  dI 
Colonel  Brandon. 

We  have  before  said  that  he  had  been  far 
from  pleased  with  the  contemplated  alliance  ot 
his  son,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  receive 
Prairie-bird  with  cold  and  studied  courtesy,  nor 
to  treat  her  otherwise  than  as  an  ordinary  guest, 
until  he  should  have  satisfied  himself  respecting 
her  birth  and  connexions ;  but,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, these  resolutions  vanished  before  the  irre- 
sistible attractions  of  her  manner  and  bearing, 
so  that  instead  of  only  eitenamg  his  hand  as  he 
had  proposed,  he  imprinted  a  parental  kiss  upon 
her  forehead,  saying, 

"  Welcome,  heartily  and  tr^'.j  welcome  tc 
Mooshanne  !" 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  she  looked  on  the  half- 
remembered  features  of  Reginald's  father,  and 
her  collected  strength  began  to  fail.  At  this  mo- 
ment she  was  greeted  by  Lucy,  whom  she  al- 
ready knew  to  be  the  chosen  of  her  brother's 
heart. 

"  Prairie-bird  must  learn  to  love  her  sister  ?" 
whispered  she,  folding  her  in  an  affectionate  em- 
brace. 

"  Learn,  Lucy  !"  replied  Prairie-bird,  whose 
tears  could  no  longer  be  controlled.  "Learn! 
can  a  few  years  have  so  changed  our  faces  and 
our  hearts,  that  Lucy  and  Evy  must  now  leam 
to  love  each  other  1" 

Before  the  astonished  girl  covV  rcp>y,  Aunt 
Mary,  darting  forward  ^'^^)  It-antic  'aste,  ex- 
claimed, "What  voice  is  ihatl"  l.en  catching 
Prairie-bird  by  the  arm,  examined  with  wild 
intensity  every  line  of  her  countenance.  As  she 
looked,  the  tears  gathered  in  her  own  eyes,  her 
frame  trembled  with  agitation,  and  she  fell  upon 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


201 


her  neck,  saying,  "  'Tis  she — 'tis  nay  poor 
brother's  long-lost  child  1" 

Lucy's  heart  told  her  that  it  was  so  indeed: 
Colonel  Brandon  was  overcome  with  astonish- 
ment; but  he  read  in  the  looks  of  Reginald  and 
Ethelston  that  the  lost  treasure  was  restored; 
and  as  memory  retraced  in  the  features  of  Prai- 
rie-bird those  of  his  attached  and  lamented  friend, 
he,  too,  was  unmanned ;  and  grasping  Ethelston's 
hand,  wrung  it  with  an  emotion  beyond  the  power 
of  words. 

The  news  spread  like  wild-fire  throughout 
the  house  that  Captain  Ethelston's  sister  was 
returned;  and  Lucy  was  obliged  to  run  with  all 
speed  to  her  mother's  room  to  prevent  a  sudden 
shock  of  joy  that  might  affect  her  weakly  nerves. 
Is  it  possible  to  describe,  or  imagine  the  trans- 
ports of  the  succeeding  hour  in  that  happy  cir- 
cle !  or  the  caresses  showered  upon  Prairie-bird ! 
What  word  would  the  pen  or  tongue  employ  1 
"  Congratulations  1"  As  well  might  one  at- 
tempt to  represent  Niagara  by  the  water  poured 
from  a  pitcher ! 

We  will  trust  that  hour  to  the  reader's  heart, 
and  will  suppose  it  past,  and  that  Lucy,  with 
still  tearful  eyes,  and  her  arm  still  round  her  re- 
covered sister's  neck,  was  leading  her  from  the 
room  where  she  had  just  knelt  to  receive  Mrs. 
Brandon's  maternal  kiss,  when,  in  passing  a 
half-open  door,  Lucy  said,  "  Evy,  that  is  your 
brother's  room  ;  but  he  is  not  in  it,  he  is  still  on 
the  lawn." 

"  Oh  !  I  must  look  into  Edward's  room,"  ex- 
claimed Prairie-bird ;  and  opening  the  door,  she 
entered,  followed  by  Lucy.  A  rille,  a  fowling- 
piece,  and  a  fishing-rod  stood  in  one  corner; 
over  them  were  ranged  several  pair  of  pistols, 
and  two  or  three  cutlasses,  apparently  of  foreign 
workmanship ;  in  the  opposite  corner,  near  the 
window,  was  a  globe,  by  the  side  of  which  stood 
a  case  (illed  with  naval  charts;  on  the  other 
side  of  the  room  was  ranged  a  row  of  shelves 
well  stored  with  books,  and  the  writing-table  in 
the  centre  was  covered  with  papers  all  neatly 
tied  and  docketed,  as  he  had  left  them  at  his  last 
departure. 

Prairie-bird's  eye  wandered  with  a  certain  de- 
gree of  interest  over  all  these  indications  of  her 
,  brother's  habits  until  it  rested  upon  a  small  por- 
trait hung  over  the  chimney-piece.  It  repre- 
sented a  man  of  middle  age  and  stature,  and, 
although  the  painting  was  scarcely  above  medi- 
ocrity as  a  work  of  art,  the  expression  of  the 
countenance  was  strikingly  open  and  benev- 
olent. Prairie-bird  gazed  upon  it  until  she 
thought  that  the  mild  orbs  upon  the  inanimate 
canvas  returned  her  affectionate  gaze.  With 
clasped  hands  and  beating  heart,  she  stood 
awhile  silent,  and  then  sinking  on  her  knees, 
without  removing  her  eyes  from  the  object  upon 
which  they  rested,  she  murmured,  in  a  whisper 
scarcely  audible,  "  My  Father !" 

It  was  indeed  the  portrait  of  his  lamented 
friend  that  Colonel  Brandon  had  kindly  placed 
in  Ethelston's  room,  a  circumstance  which  had 
escaped  Lucy's  memory  at  the  moment  of  her 
entering  it. 

Stooping  over  her  kneeling  companion,  she 
kissed  her  forehead,  saying,  "Evy,  I  will  leave 
vou  for  a  few  minutes  to  commune  with  the 
memory  of  the  honoured  dead  ;  you  will  find  me 
in  the  vestibule  below."  So  saying,  she  gently 
closed  the  door,  and  left  the  room. 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Prairie-bird 
rejoined  her  friend,  and  though  the  traces  of  re- 


cent emotion  were  still  to  be  observed,  she  had 
recovered  ner  composure,  and  her  countenance 
wore  an  expression  of  grateful  happiness. 

"Come,  Evy,"  said  her  young  hostess,  '  1 
must  now  show  you  your  own  room ;  the  cage 
is  not  half  pretty  enough  for  so  sweet  a  bird,  but 
it  opens  upon  the  flower-garden,  so  you  can 
escape  v.'hen  you  v/ill,  and  your  dear  good  Paul 
Midler  is  your  next  neighbour." 

An  exclamation  of  delight  broke  from  the  lips 
of  Prairie-bird  as  she  entered  and  looked  round 
the  tented  apartment,  and  all  its  little  comforts 
prepared  by  Lucy's  taste  and  affection.  Fortu- 
nately, the  day  was  beautiful,  and  the  casement 
windows  being  wide  open,  her  eye  caught,  be- 
yond the  flower-garden,  a  view  of  the  distant 
mass  of  forest,  with  its  thousand  varied  autum- 
nal tints,  reposing  in  the  golden  light  of  the  de- 
clining sun. 

"  Oh,  it  is  too,  too  beautiful !"  said  Prairie- 
bird,  throwing  her  arms  around  Lucy's  neck; 
"  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  this  is  not  all  a 
dream !" 

"  There  have  indeed  been  some  fairies  here, 
or  some  such  beings  as  dwell  in  dreams,  Evy," 
said  Lucy,  whose  eye  fell  upon  the  guitar  lying 
on  the  table,  "  for  1  left  this  room  a  short  time 
ago,  and  this  instrument  was  not  here  then. 
Who  can  have  brought  it  1 — can  you  play  upon 
it,  Evy  V 

"  A  little,"  replied  Prairie-bird,  colouring. 

"  And  see,"  continued  Lucy,  "  here  is  a  scrap 
of  paper  beside  it,  so  soiled  and  dirty  that  I 
should  have  put  it  in  the  fire  had  I  seen  it  be- 
fore ;  do  you  know  the  hand-writing,  Evy  1" 

As  Lucy  said  this  she  looked  archly  up  in 
her  friend's  face,  now  glowing  with  a  rosy 
blush. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  answer,  for  methinks  I 
know  it  myself;  may  I  unfold  the  paper,  and 
read  its  contents  *?  What,  no  answer  yet ;  then 
I  must  take  your  silence  for  consent." 

Thus  saying,  she  opened  the  paper,  while 
Prairie-bird,  blushing  still  more  deeply,  glanced 
at  it  with  longing  but  half-averted  eyes. 

"  Verses,  I  declare  !"  exclaimed  Lucy.  "  Why, 
Evy,  what  magic  art  have  you  employed  to  trans- 
form my  Nimrod  brother,  the  wild  huntsman  of 
the  west,  the  tamer  of  horses,  and  the  slayer  ot 
deer,  into  a  poet  1" 

She  then  proceeded  to  read  in  a  voice  of  deep 
feeling,  the  following  stanzas,  which,  although 
without  any  pretensions  to  poetical  merit  in 
themselves,  found  such  acceptance  with  theii 
present  warm-hearted  and  partial  judges,  that, 
at  the  conclusion  of  their  perusal,  the  two  girls 
fell  upon  each  other's  neck,  and  remained  lock- 
ed in  a  silent  and  affectionate  embrace. 

On  overhearing  Prairie-bird's  Evening  Hymn,  "  HjkLLOWEB 
BE  Thy  Name."* 

Yes,  hallov/ed  be  His  Holy  Name, 

Who  formed  thee  what  thou  art ! 
Whose  breath  inspired  the  heav'nly  flame 

Now  kindled  in  thy  heart ! 
Whose  love  o'erfiowing-  in  thy  breast 

These  vocal  raptures  stirred — 
Whose  angels  hover  round  thy  nest, 

Thou  orphan  Prairie-bird  ! 
Methinks,  I  see  that  guardian  throng 

Still  mirrored  in  thy  face  ! 
Thy  voice  hath  stol'n  their  angel-song-, 

Thy  form  their  angel-grace. 
Oh  breathe  once  more  that  plaintive  strain. 

Whose  every  tone  and  word, 
Deep-treasured  in  my  heart  and  brain 

Shall  dweU,  sweet  Prairie-bird  !  R.  B, 

Delaware  and  Osage  Camp,  Tuesday  night. 


*  See  chap,  xxii.,  p.  77. 


202 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


On  the  following  day  the  family  party  at  Moo- 
shanne  were  csseinbieil  at  luncheon  under  a 
large  tree,  on  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum, 
from  beneath  the  shade  of  whieh  the  gables  and 
irregular  cliiinneys  of  the  house  were  seen 
througli  occasional  openings  in  Lucy's  shrub- 
bery ;  wliile  the  deep  river  flowed  silently  on- 
ward, bearing  away  in  its  trdnquil  course  the 
leaiy  tribute  of  autuian  showered  upon  it  by 
the  light  breath  of  the  western  wind. 

Already  had  Prairie-bird  visited  the  spot 
where  her  Other's  house  had  stood, -the  site  of 
which  was  only  to  be  recognized  by  a  few  heaps 
of  stones  and  blackened  timbers,  over  which  the 
luxuriant  mosses  and  lichens,  with  which  that 
region  abounds,  had  long  since  cast  their  mantle 
of  green,  while  a  few  apple,  plum,  and  peach 
trees,  unprotected  by  hedge  or, fence,  still  show- 
ed "where  once  the  garden  smiled." 

Colonel  Brandon  had  not  thought  it  advisable 
to  rebuild  either  the  house  or  the  oflices  after 
their  destruction  by  the  savages,  but  had  con- 
tented himself  with  a  careful  administration  of 
his  late  friend's  property,  leaving  it  to  his  son 
Edward  to  choose  a  site  for  his  residence  at  a 
later  period.  Neither  must  it  be  supposed  that 
our  heroine  had  omitted  to  pay  a  morning  visit 
to  Nekimi,  who  now  knew  her  voice,  and  obey- 
ed her  call  like  an  affectionate  and  faithful  dog. 
As  soon  as  she  came  to  the  stable,  into  which 
he  had  been  turned  without  halter  or  fastening 
of  any  kind,  the  generous  animal,  after  saluting 
her  with  a  neigh  of  recognition,  rubbed  his  broad 
forehead  against  her  shoulder,  and  playfully  nib- 
bled the  grains  off  the  head  of  maize  which  she 
held  out  to  him;  but  even  that  he  did  not  ven- 
ture to  do  until  he  had  acquired  a  claim  to  it  by 
ho.ding  one  of  his  feet  up  and  pawing  with  it 
until  she  let  it  rest  in  her  delicate  hand.  It  must 
assuredly  have  been  by  mere  accident  that  Regi- 
nald entered  while  she  was  thus  employed,  and 
reminded  her  how  he  had,  with  prescient  hope, 
foretold  this  very  scene  amongst  the  rocky  cliffs 
of  the  far  distant  Andes.  Well  did  Prairie-bird 
remember  the  spot,  and  every  syllable  of  that 
prophecy  ;  neither  did  she  affect  to  have  forgot- 
ten it,  but  with  a  sweet  blush  held  out  one  hand 
to  her  lover,  while  the  other  still  played  with  the 
«ilken  tresses  of  Nekimi's  mane. 

What  a  delightful  occupation  is  it  to  caress  a 
dumb  favourite  by  the  side  of  one  beloved,  when 
the  words  of  endearing  tenderness  lavished  on 
the  unconscious  pet  are  the  outpourings  of  a 
heart  sensitively  shrinking  from  addressing  them 
directly  to  their  real  object !  and  if  it  be  true 
that  many  a  sleek  and  glossy  spaniel  has  thus 
received  the  caress  intended  for  its  owner,  how 
much  more  natural  was  it  that  Reginald  and 
?rairie-bird  should  find  pleasure  in  bestowing 
heir  caresses  on  a  noble  animal  endeared  to 
them  by  so  many  associations ;  for  while  she 
remembered  how  often  Nekimi  had  borne  him 
in  the  chase  and  in  the  fight,  he  was  not  likely 
to  for?et  with  how  true  and  unwearied  a  step 
the  faithful  steed  had  carried  his  betrothed  over 
many  hundred  miles  of  mountain  and  of  prairie  ; 
and  even  now^,  as  her  hand  rested  in  his,  both  by 
a  conscious  sympathy  thought  of  Nekimi's  for- 
mer generous  lord,  and  breathed  a  sigh  over 
Wai-Eagle's  untimely  fate. 

To  return  to  our  party  assembled  round  the. 
,    ."uncheon  table  under  the  venerable  tree.     The 
first  tumult  of  joy  had  subsided,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  a  feeling  of  more  assured  happiness, 
"  a  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss,"  which  per- 


vaded every  breast.  Aunt  Mary  tontemplaleJ 
her  lovely  niece  with  looks  of  the  fondest  eiffec- 
tion,  recalling  in  her  sweet  smile  and  in  the  ex. 
pression  of  her  features  the  beloved  brother, 
whose  loss  she  had  Avith  deep  but  chastened 
grief  for  many  yisars  deplored ;  for  a  few  min- 
utes there  was  a  general  silence ;  ore  of  those 
pauses  in  which  each  member  of  the  party  pon- 
dered, as  if  by  a  common  sympathy,  on  the  won- 
derful events  which  had  led  to  their  reunion, 
Lucy  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"  Reginald,"  said  she,  "  you  related  to  us  yes- 
ter-evening the  commencement  of  your  home- 
ward journey,  and  how  the  Delaware  called 
'  Stony-heart'  was  permitted  by  the  Osages  to 
return  unhurt  to  your  camp  ;  you  must  resume 
the  thread  of  your  tale  where  you  left  it,  and  tell 
us  especially  how  and  where  you  parted  from 
dear  Wingenund,  to  whom  we  all  owe  a  debt 
of  gratitude  greater  than  we  can  ever  pay." 

"  That  do  we  indeed,  Lucy,"  replied  her  bro- 
ther earnestly ;  "  fortunate  too  is  it  that  deeds  of 
generous  self-devotion  like  those  done  by  Win- 
genund reward  themselves,  and  that  a  debt  of 
gratitude  to  one  whom  we  love  is  a  treasure,  not 
a  load  upon  the  breast.  You  remember  how  a 
writer,  who  used  to  be  a  favourite  with  you,  has 
expressed  it: 

'  A  grateful  mind 
By  owing  owes  not,  but  still  pays,  at  once 
Indebted  and  discharged.' " 

"  What  a  beautiful  thought !"  exclaimed  Pral- 
rie-bird  eagerly;  "tell  me  the  book  wherein  I 
may  find  it  written.  Such  a  lovely  floft'cr  as 
that  cannot  surely  grow  alone ;  there  must  be 
others  of  similar  beauty  near  it." 

"  There  are,  indeed ;  fresh,  fragrant,  and  ab'.m- 
dant  as  on  a  western  prairie  in  June  ;  '  Paradise 
Lost'  is  the  garden  wherein  they  grow ;  many 
of  the  descriptions  contained  in  it  are  among  the 
most  beautiful  in  our  language  ;  I  hope  ere  long 
to  read  them  to  and  with  you,  dearest,"  he  added 
in  a  whisper,  intended  for  her  ear  alone ;  "  there 
are  some  lines  descriptive  of  Eve  as  she  first 
appeared  to  Adam,  which  always  seemed  to  me 
exaggerated  until  you  taught  my  eye  to  see  anL 
my  heart  to  feel  their  truth." 

With  a  deep  blush  Prairie-bird  cast  her  dark 
eyes  upon  the  ground,  while  Reginald  continued 
aloud,  again  addressing  himself  to  Lucy  : 

"  Our  own  adventures  after  we  crossed  the 
Platte  river  are  scarcely  worth  relating;  for, 
although  we  had  a  few  alarms  from  wandering 
parties  of  Pawnees,  Omahaws,  and  Dahcotahs, 
our  band  was  too  strong  and  too  well  armed  to 
fear  anything  from  their  open  attack;  and  the 
ever- watchful  care  and  sagacity  of  Wingenund 
left  them  no  chance  of^urprising  us. 

"  The  warlike  spirit  and  experience  of  his 
noble  brother  seemed  to  have  descended,  like 
Elijah's  mantle,  upon  the  youth  ;  and  feeling  the 
responsibility  that  attached  to  him  as  leader  of 
the  party,  he  allowed  himself  little  rest  either 
by  day  or  by  night,  setting  the  watches  himself, 
and  visiting  them  repeatedly  at  intervals  to  as- 
certain that  they  were  on  the  alert.  He  always 
came  to  our  camp-fire  in  the  evening,  and  I  ob- 
served that  he  daily  became  more  interested  in 
the  conversation  of  our  worthy  friend  the  Mis- 
sionary, and  more  anxious  to  understand  the 
principles  and  truths  of  Christianity ;  in  so  do- 
ing he  was  not  only  following  the  bent  of  his 
own  amiable  and  gentle  disposition,  but  he  felt 
a  secret  pleasure  in  the  remembrance  that  he 


THE  PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


903 


was  fulfilling  the  last  wishes  of  his  dying  broth- 
er. I  dare  say  Paul  Mviller  would  now  tell  you 
that  he  would  be  thankful  indeed  if  the  average 
of  professing  Christians  understood  and  prac- 
tised the  precepts  of  their  creed  as  faithfully  as 
Wingenund." 

"  That  would  I  in  truth,  my  son,"  replied  the 
Missionary;  " neverthele'^s  I  cannot  claim  the 
honour  jf  having  been  the  instrument  of  the 
conversion  of  the  Delaware  youth  or  his  brother  ; 
it  was  effected,  under  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  by 
the  patient,  zealous,  and  affectionate  exertion 
of  Prairie-bird." 

"Nay,  my  dear  father,  you  do  yourself  griev- 
ous wrong  in  so  speaking,"  said  Prairie-bird, 
reproachfully ;  "  and  even  were  it  as  you  say, 
to  whom  do  I  owe  everything  that  I  knovvl 
^  whom  have  I  to  thank  that  I  was  not  left  in  the 
dark  and  hapless  condition  of  the  females  by 
whom  I  have  so  long  been  surrounded  1" 

The  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke, 
and  she  pressed  affectionately  to  her  lips  the 
hand  which  her  adopted  father  extended  to  her. 

"  Yes,  my  sister  speaks  only  the  truth,"  said 
Ethelston,  addressing  the  Missionary  in  a  voice 
of  deep  emotion ;  "  we  all  feel  how  far  beyond 
the  power  of  words  we  are  indebted  to  you  for 
all  that  you  have  done  for  her,  and  we  only  trust 
that  some  opportunity  may  be  afforded  us  of 
showing  a  deep,  sincere,  and  permanent  grati- 
tude that  we  are  unable  to  express." 

Colonel  Brandon,  and  every  one  of  the  family 
circle,  rose  as  by  a  common  impulse,  and  one 
by  one  confirmed,  by  a  silent  pressure  of  the 
hand,  the  sentiment  expressed  by  Ethelston. 
The  venerable  man,  uncovering  his  head,  and 
allowing  the  breeze  to  waive  to  and  fro  his  sil- 
ver locks,  looked  for  a  minute  upon  the  kindred 
group  before  him,  and  thus  addressed  them  : 

"Think  you  not,  my  friends,  that  this  scene, 
these  happy  faces,  and  this  happy  home,  might 
well  rcwani  any  degree  or  duration  of  rarllily 
toil  ^  But  toil  there  has  been  none,  for  the 
teaching  and  nurture  of  this  sweet  child  has 
been  from  the  first  a  labour  of  love ;  and  the 
only  pain  or  regret  that  she  has  ever  caused  me, 
is  that  which  I  now  feel,  when  I  recollect  that  I 
must  resign  her  into  the  hands  of  her  natural 
guardians,  and  return  to  my  appointed  task, 
the  occasional  troubles  of  which  will  not  any 
more  be  sweetened  by  her  presence,  nor  its  vex- 
ations be  soothed  by  her  affection.  Such,  how- 
ever, is  the  will  of  Him  whom  I  serve,  and  far 
be  it  from  me  to  repine." 

"Nay,"  interrupted  Reginald,  eagerly,  "you 
will  not  leave  us  yet.  After  the  fatigues  and 
trials  of  this  summer,  you  will  surely  give  your- 
self some  repose." 

"My  son,  I  would  gladly  dwell  awhile  in  this 
p-leasant  and  happy  abode  ;  but  I  must  not  leave 
Wingenund  to  contend  unaided  against  the  dif- 
ficulties by  which  his  present  path  will  be  beset, 
the  doubts  and  temptations  which  may  assail 
him  from  within,  and  the  sneers  or  scorn  he 
may  experience  from  the  more  proud  and  vio- 
lent spirits  of  his  tribe." 

"  There  is,  however,  one  service  that  you  have 
promiscid  to  render  before  you  take  your  depar- 
ture from  Mooshanne.  Perhaps  there  are  others 
here  beside  myself  who  will  urge  you  to  its  faith- 
ful performance." 

This  bold  speech  threw  the  whole  party  into 


momentary  confusion.  Prairie-bira,  pretending 
to  whisper  to  the  Missionary,  hid  her  blushing 
face  upon  his  shoulder ;  the  conscious  eyes  of 
Ethelston  and  Lucy  met ;  while  Aunt  Mary  be- 
stowed upon  Colonel  Brandon  one  of  those  know- 
ing sm iles  with  which  elderly  ladies  usually  think 
fit  to  accompany  matrimonial  allusions. 

The  awkwardness  was  of  short  duration,  for 
the  mutual  feelings  of  the  parties  betrothed  were 
no  secret  to  any  present ;  and  Reginald  was  not 
of  a  disposition  to  endure  unnecessary  delays, 
so  he  drew  Prairie-bird  with  gentle  force  towards 
her  brother,  and  still  retaining  her  hand  in  his 
own,  he  said,  "  Ethelston,  will  you,  as  guardian 
of  your  sister,  consent  to  my  retaining  this  fair 
hand'!  Beware  how  you  reply,  lest  I  should 
use  my  influence  against  you  in  a  request  which 
you  may  make  to  my  father." 

Had  Ethelston  been  ignorant  of  his  sister's 
feelings,  he  might  have  read  them  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  blushing  countenance  ;  but  being 
already  in  full  possession  of  them,  and  meeting 
a  smile  of  approval  from  Colonel  Brandon,  he 
placed  his  sister's  hand  within  that  of  Reginald, 
saying,  "  Take  her,  Reginald,  and  be  to  her  as 
a  husband,  true,  faithful,  and  affectionate,  as 
you  have  been  to  me  as  a  friend."' 

It  will  not  be  supposed  that  Ethelston  waited 
long  for  the  consent  of  either  her  father  or  brother 
to  his  union  with  Lucy  ;  and  Paul  MiiUer  agreed 
to  remain  at  Mooshanne  one  week,  at  the  end 
of  which  time  the  double  ceremony  was  to  take 
place. 

While  these  interesting  arrangements  were 
in  progress,  the  noise  of  wheels,  and  the  tramp 
of  many  horses,  announced  the  approach  of  a 
large  party ;  upon  which  Colonel  Brandon,  ac- 
companied by  the  Missionary  and  Aunt  Mary, 
went  to  see  who  the  new  comers  might  be, 
leaving  the  two  young  couples  to  follow  at  their 
leisure.  The  Colonel  was  not  long  kept  in  sus- 
pense as  to  the  quality  of  his  visitors,  for  before 
reaching  the  house,  he  heard  the  broad  accent 
of  David  Muir's  voice  addressing  Reginald's  at- 
tendant. 

"  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  Maister  Parrot,"  for 
so  did  he  pronounce  the  Frenchman's  name ; 
"if  ye'll  just  baud  the  uncanny  beast  by  the 
head,  Jessie  can  step  on  the  wheel  an'  be  doon 
in  a  crack.  There,  I  tauld  ye  so ;  it's  a'  right 
noo ;  and  Jessie,  lass,  ye  need  na'  look  sae 
frighted,  for  your  new  gown's  nae  rumpled,  an 
Hairy  will  tak'  the  bit  parcel  into  the  house  fot 
ye." 

"  Indeed,  father,  I  am  not  frightened,"  said 
Jessie,  settling  the  side  curls  under  her  bonnet 
upon  her  glowing  cheek,  and  giving  the  parcel 
to  Henry  Gregson,  whose  hands  had  for  tha 
moment  encircled  her  waist  as  she  jumped  from 
the  wheel  to  the  ground.  Several  vehicles  of 
various  descriptions  followed,  containing  the 
spoils  and  baggage  brought  back  from  the  prai- 
ries, together  with  Pierre,  Bearskin,  and  all  the 
members  of  the  party  who  had  accompanied 
Reginald  and  Ethelston,  and  who  now  came  to 
offer  their  congratulation  on  the  events  attend- 
ing their  safe  return  ;  for  the  story  c  he  won- 
derful restoration  of  Etheiston's  sister  to  her 
family  had  already  spread  throughout  the  neigh- 
bourhood, receiving  as  it  went  various  addition- 
and  embellishments  from  the  lovers  of  the  ma? 
vellous. 


204 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


Meanwhile,  Jessie  Muir  had  gathered  from 
Monsieur  Perrot  sufficient  information  respect- 
ing the  true  ''tate  of  affairs,  to  set  her  mind  at 
rest  with  respect  to  Reginald  Brandon's  inten- 
tions ;  and  encouraged  by  the  interest  which  the 
Colonel  and  Lucy  had  always  taken  in  her  pros 
pects,  she  felt  a  secret  assurance  that  they 
would  prove  powerful  auxiliaries  in  advocating 
the  cause  of  Harry  Gregson,  and  reconciling 
her  parents  to  his  suit.  Neither  was  she  mis° 
taken  in  her  calculation,  for  while  the  prepara- 
tion for  the  entertainment  of  the  numerous 
guests  was  going  forward.  Colonel  Brandon, 
after  a  brief  consultation  with  Ethelston,  called 
David  Muir  aside,  and  opened  to  him  the  sub- 
ject of  the  youth's  attachment  to  his  daughter. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  surprise,  or 
the  wrath  of  the  merchant  were  the  greater  on 
hearing  this  intelligence,  which  was  not  only  a 
death-blow  to  his  own  ambitious  hopes,  but 
was,  in  his  estimation,  an  act  of  unpardonable 
presumption  on  the  part  of  young  Gregson. 

"  Colonel,  ye're  surely  no  in  airnest !  it's  no 
possible  !  Jessie,  come  here,  ye  hizzie  !"  said 
he,  stamping  with  anger,  and  raising  his  voice 
to  a  louder  pitch. 

It  happened  that  Jessie,  being  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  Monsieur  Perrot,  did  not  hear  his 
call,  and  the  Colonel  took  the  opportunity  of 
leading  him  a  little  further  from  the  house," and 
entreating  his  calm  attention  to  the  explanations 
which  he  had  to  give.  David  walked  on  in  si- 
lence, his  face  still  red  with  anger,  and  his  heart 
secretly  trembling  within  him  when  he  thought 
of  his  next  interview  with  Dame  Christie. 

The  Colonel,  who  knew  both  the  weak  and 
the  good  points  of  his  companion's  character, 
dexterously  availing  himself  of  both,  effected  jn 
a  few  minutes  a  considerable  change  in  his 
views  and  feelings  on  the  subject.  He  repre- 
sented to  him  that  Ethelston  would  now  have  a 
house  and  establishment  of  his  own  ;  that  his 
property  was  already  very  considerable,  and, 
with  prudent  management,  would  receive  grad- 
ual augmentation ;  and  that,  from  his  attach- 
ment to  Gregson,  it  was  his  intention  to  make 
the  honest  mate's  son  the  managing  agent  of  his 
concerns  ;  to  facilitate  which  purpose  he.  Colo- 
nel Brandon,  proposed  to  advance  a  few  thous- 
and dollars,  and  to  establish  the  young  man  in 
a  suitable  house  in  Marietta. 

"  David,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  you  and  I 
have  long  been  acquainted  ;  and  I  do  not  think 
you  ever  yet  knew  me  to  give  you  counsel  likely 
to  injure  your  welfare  or  your  prospects,  and 
you  may  trust  me  that  I  would  not  willingly  do 
so  now.  The  young  people  are  attached  to  each 
other ;  they  may  certainly  be  separated  by  force  ; 
but  their  hearts  are  already  united.  Harry  is  an 
honest,  industrious,  enterprising  lad  ;  he  will 
start  in  the  world  with  fair  prospects ;  every 
year  will  lend  him  experience  ;  and  as  you  and 
I  are  both  of  us  on  the  wrong  side  of  fifty,  we 
may  be  very  glad  a  few  summers  hence  to  rest 
from  active  business,  and  to  have  about  us 
those  to  whom  we  can  entrust  our  affairs  with 
well-placed  confidence." 

There  was  much  in  this  speech  that  tended  to 
soothe,  as  well  as  to  convince,  the  merchant. 
He  was  gratified  by  the  familiar  and  friendly 
expressions  employed  by  the  Colonel,  while  his 
ihrewd  understanding  took  in  at  a  rapid  glance 


the  prospective  advantages  that  might  accrue  to 
the  agent  managing  the  extensive  affairs  of  the 
families  of  Brandon  and  Ethelston  ;  added  to 
this,  he  was  at  heart  a  fond  and  affectionate 
father  ;  and  the  symptoms  of  irritation  began  to 
disappear  from  his  countenance  ;  yet  he  scarcely 
knew  how  to  reply,  and  before  even  he  meant 
to  speak,  the  name  of  his  gude-wife  escaped 
from  his  lips. 

"  Leave  me  to  manage  Dame  Christie,"  said 
the  Colonel,  smiling.  "  Ethelston  shall  go  into 
Marietta  himself,  and  break  the  subject  to  her, 
founding  his  request  upon  his  regard  for  the  eld- 
er Gregson,  who  has  served  under  him  so  faith- 
fully ever  since  his  boyhood.  Come,  my  good 
friend,  let  us  join  the  party  :  I  do  not  press  you 
for  any  reply  now ;  but  if  you  should  detect  a 
stolen  glance  of  affection  between  the  young  » 
people,  do  not  be  angry  with  Jessie,  but  think 
of  the  day  when  you  first  went  forth,  dressed 
in  your  best,  to  win  a  smile  from  Dame  Christie." 

"Ah,  Colonel,  ye're  speakin'  of  auld  lang 
syne  now?"  said  the  merchant,  wtiose  ill- 
humour  was  no  longer  proof  against  the  friendly 
suggestions  of  his  patron,  though  he  muttered 
to  himself,  in  an  undertone,  as  they  returned 
towards  the  house,  "I  ken  now  why  Maister 
Hairy  was  aye  sae  fond  o'  the  store,  when  the 
ither  lads  were  fain  to  win'  awa  to  hunt  in  the 
woods,  or  to  fish  in  the  river  !  Weel  a  weel, 
he's  a  douce  callant,  an'  the  lassie  might  aibUns 
gae  farther  an'  fare  waur  !" 

The  preparations  for  the  entertainment  were 
still  in  progress,  under  the  superintendence  of 
Aui^l;  Mary  and  Monsieur  Perrot,  the  latter  hav- 
ing already  doffed  his  travelling  aittire,  and  as- 
sumed, in  his  jacket  of  snowy  white,  the  com- 
mand of  the  kitchen,  when  Harry  Gregson,  who 
had  opened  the  Marietta  post-bag,  put  a  letter 
into  the  hands  of  Reginald  Brandon,  which  he 
instantly  knew,  by  the  bold,  careless  hand- 
writing, to  be  from  his  uncle  Marmaduke.  He 
broke  the  seal,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"Shirley  Hal!,  July  15. 
"Dear  Reginald, 
"  I  have  very  lately  received  your  letter,  an- 
nouncing your  intention  of  making  a  hunting 
excursion  in  the  west,  in  pursuit  of  bears,  ellc, 
wolves,  Indians,  and  other  wild  beasts.  I  hope 
you'll  come  safe  back,  with  a  score  or  two  of 
their  outlandish  brushes.  After  you  left  me,  I 
began  to  feel  very  uncomfortable,  and  did  not 
know  what  was  the  matter,  for  I  was  cold  by 
night,  and  sulky  and  out  of  sorts  by  day.  Parson 
Williams  took  me  in  hand ;  but  though  we 
drank  many  a  bottle  of  old  port  together,  and 
played  drafts,  and  attended  several  road-meet- 
ings (which  you  know  was  an  amusement  I  i 
had  never  tried  before),  it  was  all  no  use,  and 
I  began  to  think  that  I  was  on  a  down-hill  road 
to  the  next  world  ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  it 
happened  that  I  dropped  in  now  and  then  to  the 
parsonage,  and  whenever  I  had  talked  half  an 
hour  with  Margaret,  (you  remember  Margaret, 
the  parson's  daughter,)  I  felt  in  a  better  humour 
with  myself  and  all  the  world.  So  matters 
went  on,  until  one  day  I  mustered  courage  to 
ask  her  to  come  up  to  the  hall,  and  change  her 
name  to  Shirley.  She  did  so,  and  youi  old 
uncle  writes  with  the  halter  round  his  neck. 
When  I  married,  Perkins  came  down  from 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


305 


London  (the  son  of  my  father's  solicitor)  with  a 
dozen  boxes  of  parchment,  in  a  post-chaise ; 
and  made  me  sign  my  name  at  least  a  score  of 
times ;  after  which  I  desired  him  to  draw  up 
two  more  deeds  for  my  pleasure.  These  were 
for  transferring  to  yourself,  and  to  your  sister, 
a  legacy  left  me  a  few  years  ago  by  an  old  rela- 
tion whom  I  had  never  seen,  and  whose  money 
I  did  not  want.  The  amount  is  forty  thousand 
pounds ;  so  there  will  be  twenty  thousand 
pounds  a-piece  for  you,  and  you  may  set  to  work 
and  clear  (as  you  used  to  call  it)  an  estate  as 
big  as  the  old  county  of  Warwick.  I  explained 
what  I  was  about  to  Meg,  telling  her,  at  the 
same  time,  that  it  was  a  debt  that  I  owed  you 
in  conscience,  having  consider*  J  you  for  so 
many  years  as  my  heir,  until  her  plaguing  black 
eyes  made  a  fool  of  me,  and  threatened  me  with 
the  prospect  of  brats  of  my  own.  For  this  she 
pulled  my  ears  twice  ;  first,  for  calling  her  Meg 
instead  of  Greta,  by  which  name  she  was  known 
at  the  parsonage ;  and  secondly,  for  talking 
about  the  brats,  a  subject  which  always  makes 
her  cheeks  redden.  But  I  had  no  idea  of  put- 
ting the  reins  into  her  hand  so  early  in  the  day, 
and  I  told  her  outright,  that  the  first  boy  should 
be  called  Reginald,  to  please  me ;  and  the  sec- 
ond might  be  called  Greto,  to  please  her ;  and 
the  third  might  be  called  Marmaduke,  to  please 
the  family  ;  on  which,  without  waiting  to  hear 
any  more,  she  bolted,  and  left  me  master  of  the 
field.  I  have  just  mentioned  this,  in  order  that 
you,  if  ever  you  get  into  a  similar  scrape,  may 
know  h(fw  to  behave  yourself.  Mr.  Perkins 
has  completed  his  deeds  of  assignment,  and  has 
received  my  instructions  to  transfer  the  money 
to  America  by  the  next  vessel,  in  bills  upon 
Messrs.  Powell  and  Co.  of  Philadelphia ;  and 
though  I  have  more  than  once  found  you  as 
proud  and  as  straight-laced  as  a  turkey-cock 
where  money  was  concerned,  I  know  that  you 
dare  not,  you  dog  ! — I  say  you  dare  not  refuse, 
either  for  yourself  or  your  sister,  this  token  of 
the  affectionate  regard  of  your  uncle, 

"Marmvduke  Shirley." 

The  flush  that  came  over  Reginald's  open 
countenance  as  he  read  this  epistle  from  his 
eccentric  but  warm-hearted  relative,  did  not 
escape  the  watchful  eye  of  Lucy,  who  was 
standing  near  him,  and  she  anxiously  inquired 
whether  it  containedanyunpleasant  intelligence. 

"Read  it,  Lucy,  and  judge  for  yourself,"  he 
replied,  while  he  went  to  communicate  its  con- 
tents to  Colonel  Brandon. 

"We  will  leave  to  the  reader's  imagination  the 
mirth  and  festivity  that  reigned  at  Mooshanne 
during  that  happy  evening ;  how  Pierre,  Bap- 
tiste,  and  Bearskin  talked  over  their  adventures 
of  ancient  and  of  recent  date  ;  how  David  Muir's 
grey  eye  twinkled  when  he  detected  Jessie 
exchanging  a  stolen  glance  with  Harry  Greg- 
son  ;  how  the  cheers  rang  through  the  forest 
when  the  Colonel  proposed  the  health  of  Prai- 
rie-bird, the  long-lost  child  of  his  dearest  friend, 
the  bride  of  his  only  son  ;  and  how  Aunt  Mary's 
sweetmeats  and  preserves  adorned  her  snowy 
table-cloth  ;  and  how  Monsieur  Perrot  had  con- 
trived, as  if  by  magic,  to  load  the  hospitable 
board  with  every  swimming,  flying,  and  running 
eatable  creature  to  be  found  in  the  neighbour- 
)  cod,  dressed  in  every  known  variety  of  form. 


The  healths  of  Ethelston  and  Colonel  Brandon 
had  not  been  forgotten  ;  and  the  latter,  observ- 
ing a  shade  of  melancholy  upon  his  son's  brow, 
said  to  him  aloud,  "Reginald,  you  have  not  yel 
given  youi  friends  a  toast,  they  claim  it  of  you 
new." 

Thus  addressed,  Reginald,  reading  in  the 
dark  eyes  of  his  betrothed,  feelings  kindred  to 
his  own,  said  in  a  voice  of  deep  and  undisguised 
emotion,  "My  friends,  you  will  not  blame  me 
if  I  interrupt  for  a  moment  the  current  of  your 
mirth,  but  it  would  be  doing  equal  injustice,  I 
am  sure,  to  your  feelings  and  to  my  own,  were 
we  to  part  without  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
one,  now  no  more,  to  whose  self-devoted  he- 
roism Ethelston  owes  the  life  of  a  sister,  and  I 
the  dearest  treasure  I  possess  on  earth :  The 
memory  of  my  Indian  brother,  War-Eagle,  late 
Chief  of  the  Delawares  !" 

The  party  rose  in  silence,  every  head  was 
uncovered,  a  tear  trembled  on  the  long  lashes 
of  Prairie-bird's  downcast  eye,  and  Baptiste 
muttered  to  himself,  yet  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  by  all  present,  as  he  reversed  his  glass, 
"  Here's  to  the  memory  of  the  boldest  hand,  the 
fleetest  foot,  and  the  truest  heart  among  the 
sons  of  the  Lenape  !" 

As  the  day  was  now  drawing  to  a  close, 
David  Muir  returned  to  Marietta,  Ethelston 
having  promised  to  pay  a  visit  to  Dame  Christie 
on  the  following  day.  The  Merchant  was  so 
elated  by  the  day's  festivities,  that  he  winked 
his  grey  twinkling  eye  at  Jessie,  forgetting  at 
the  moment  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  con- 
versation that  had  passed  between  the  Colonel 
and  himself;  and  when  the  youth  in  escorting 
them  homeward,  warned  David  of  sundry  holes 
and  stumps  upon  the  road,  thereby  enabling 
them  to  avoid  them,  he  poked  his  elbow  into 
Jessie's  side,  saying,  "  He's  a  canny  lad,  yon 
Hairy  Gregson  ;  what  think  ye,  Jeissel"  She 
thought  that  her  father  was  crazy,  but  she  said 
nothing;  and  a  certain  vague  sensation  of  hope 
came  over  her,  that  all  was  going  more  smoothly 
for  her  wishes  than  she  had  dared  to  expect. 

For  the  ensuing  week  the  whole  village  of 
Marietta  was  enlivened  by  the  preparations  for 
the  two-fold  wedding  at  Mooshanne  ;  silks,  rib- 
bons, and  trinkets  without  end  were  bought,  and 
there  was  not  a  settlement  within  fifty  miles  in 
which  the  miraculous  return  of  Reginald  Bran- 
don's bride  was  not  the  theme  of  discourse  and 
wonder.     Paul  Miiller  became  in  a  few  days  so 
universally  beloved  at  Mooshanne,  that  all  the 
members  of  the  family  shared  in  the  regret  with 
which  Prairie-bird  contemplated  his  approach- 
ing departure ;  and  as  they  became  more  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  him,  and  drew  from 
him   the  various  information  with  which  bia 
mind  was  stored,  they  no  longer  marvelled  at 
the  education  that  he  had  found  means,  even  in 
the  wilderness,   to  bestow  upon  his   adopted 
child.     Colonel  Brandon  was  extremely  desi- 
rous to  make  him  some  present  in  token  of  the 
gratitude  which  he  in  common  with  all   his 
family,  felt  towards  the  worthy  MissionarVi  and 
spoke  more  than  once  with  Reginald  on  the  • 
subject :   but  the  latter  stopped  him,  saying, 
"  My  dear  father,  leave  us  to  manage  that,  wa 
have  entered  into  a  secret  conspiracy,  and  musi 
entreat  you  not  to  forbid  our  carrying  it  into  ex 
ecution." 


206 


THE    PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


The  Colonel  smiled,  and  promised  obedience, 
tnowing  that  those  in  whose  hands  the  matter 
nested,  were  more  familiar  with  the  good  man's 
wants  and  wishes  than  he  could  be  himself. 

At  length  the  week,  long  as  it  may  have  ap- 

? eared  to  Reginald  and  Ethelston,  passed  away, 
'he  morning  which  united  them  to  those  whom 
ihey  had  respectively  loved  through  so  many 
trials  and  dangers,  arrived  ;  and  Paul  Miiller, 
naving  joined  the  hand  of  his  beloved  pupil  to 
the  chosen  of  her  heart,  prepared  to  take  his 
leave,  when  she  knelt  to  him  for  his  blessing. 
With  faltering  voice  and  tearful  eyes  he  gave  it ; 
she  could  not  speak,  but  pointing  to  a  small  box 
that  stood  upon  an  adjoining  table,  with  a  letter 
addressed  to  him  beside  it,  yielded  to  the  gen- 
tle force  with  which  her  bridegroom  drew  her 
from  the  room. 

Taking  up  the  letter,  the  Missionary  read  as 
follows : — 

"  Oh,  my  beloved  preceptor  and  father,  let  me 
once  again  thank  you  for  all  your  goodness  and 
affectionate  care  !  for  to  you,  next  to  my  Father 
in  heaven,  do  I  owe  all  my  present  happiness, 
and  all  my  knowledge  of  that  Saviour  who  is 
my  everlasting  hope  and  trust.  My  heart 
would  sink  under  the  thought  of  being  separated 
from  you,  if  I  did  not  know  that  you  are  return- 
to  my  dear  young  brother  Wingenund,  to  guide 
and  assist  him  in  the  good  path  that  he  has 
chosen  ;  tell  him  again  and  again  how  dearly 
we  all  love  him,  and  that  day  after  day,  and 
night  after  night,  he  shall  be  remembered  in  his 
sister's  prayers. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  forsake  him,  but  will 
give  him  your  advice  in  teaching  his  Lenape 
brothers,  who  have  laid  aside  the  tomahawk,  to 
cultivate  the  earth,  and  to  raise  corn  and  other 
nourishing  food  for  their  little  ones.  You  will 
also  continue  your  favourite  and  blessed  work 
of  spreading  among  them,  and  the  surrounding 
tribes,  the  light  of  the  Gospel.  Edward  and 
Reginald  tell  me  that  for  these  objects  nearest 
your  heart,  gold  and  silver  can  be  usefully  ap- 
plied, and  they  desire  me  to  entreat  your  accept- 
ance of  this  box  containing  a  thousand  dollars, 
one  half  to  be  expended  as  you  may  think  best 
for  spreading  Christianity  among  our  Indian 
brethren,  and  the  other  half  in  seeds,  working- 
tools,  and  other  things  necessary  for  Wingenund 
and  those  who  dwell  with  him. 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  and  see  us  at  least 
once  in  every  year,  to  tell  us  of  the  health  and 
welfare  of  Wingenund.  If  you  can  bring  him 
with  you,  the  sight  of  him  will  make  glad  our 
eyes  and  hearts. 

"  Farewell,  dear  father.  Forgive  the  faults  in 
this  letter,  remembering,  that  although  I  have 
read  so  much  to  you  and  with  you,  I  have  had 
little  practice  in  writing,  and  neither  Reginald 
nor  Edward  will  alter  or  correct  one  word  for 
me;  they  both  smile  and  say  it  will  do  very 
well  ;  perhaps  it  may,  for,  without  it,  you  know 
already  how  dearly  you  are  loved  and  honoured 
by  your  affectionate  and  ever-grateful, 

"  Prairie-bird." 

SUPPLEMENTARY   CHAPTER. 
SopposiNo  the  gentle  reader  to  have  taken 
sufficient  interest  in  Prairie-bird  to  be  desirous 
of  learning  something  of  the  after  fortunes  of 


herself,  and  those  connected  with  her,  we  suD- 
join  a  letter  which  accidentally  came  into  our 
possession,  and  which  appears  to  have  been 
written  a  few  years  subsequent  to  the  date  of 
the  conclusion  of  the  preceding  tale. 

"  St  Louis,  June  12th,  18 — 
'  Dear  Ethelston, 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  my  long-promised 
visit  to  Wingenund,  whose  village  is  situated, 
as  you  know,  not  far  from  the  southern  banks 
of  the  Missouri,  about  one  hundred  miles  be- 
yond St.  Charles's.  I  found  there  our  respect- 
ed and  venerable  friend  Paul  Miiller,  whose  in- 
tercourse with  Wingenund  and  his  band  has 
been  for  some  years  almost  uninterrupted,  and 
productive  of  the  most  striking  improvement, 
both  in  the  village  itself,  and  in  the  character  ^ 
and  manners  of  its  inhabitants.  Several  small 
settlements  of  Delawares  are  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, all  of  whom  acknowledge  Wingenund  as 
their  chief;  and  most  of  them  have  availed 
themselves,  more  or  less,  of  the  teaching  of  the 
exemplary  Missionary. 

"  The  village  is  situated  on  the  side  of  a  hill, 
gently  sloping  to  the  south,  along  the  base  of 
which  flows  a  considerable  stream,  which,  af- 
ter watering  the  valley  below,  falls  into  the 
Missouri  at  a  distance  of  a  few  miles.  The 
huts,  or  cottages  occupied  by  the  Delawares  are 
built  chiefly  of  wood  ;  and  each  having  a  gar- 
den attached  to  it,  they  present  a  very  neat  and 
comfortable  appearance.  That  of  Wingenund 
is  larger  than  the  rest,  having  on  one  side  a 
compartment  reserved  entirely  for  the  use  of 
the  Missionary;  and  on  the  other  a  large  oblong 
room,  in  which  are  held  their  devotional  meet- 
ings ;  the  latter  serves  also  the  purpose  of  a 
school-room  for  the  education  of  the  children. 
You  would  be  surprised  at  the  progress  made 
by  them,  and  by  many  of  the  adults,  in  reading, 
as  well  as  in  agriculture  and  other  useful  craft ; 
and  I  must  own  that  when  my  eye  fell  upon 
their  ploughs,  hammers,  saws,  chisels,  and  oth- 
er utensils,  and  then  rested  on  the  Bibles,  a 
copy  of  which  is  in  every  dwelling,  I  felt  a 
deep  and  gratifying  conviction,  that  our  annual 
present  to  Wingenund  has  been  productive  of 
blessings,  quite  beyond  our  most  sangume  ex- 
pectations. 

"  I  need  scarcely  tell  you,  that  his  reception 
of  me  was  that  of  a  man  welcoming  a  long-ab- 
sent brother.  He  fell  on  my  neck,  and  held 
me  for  some  time  embraced  .vithout  speaking  ; 
and  when  he  inquired  about  his  dear  sister  Oli- 
tipa,  his  voice  resumed  the  soft,  and  almost 
feminine  tones  that  I  formerly  noticed  in  it, 
when  he  was  under  the  influence  of  strong 
emotion.  In  outward  appearance  he  is  much  i 
changed  since  you  last  saw  him,  having  grown 
both  in  breadth  and  height ;  indeed,  I  am  not 
sure  whether  he  is  not  now  almost  as  fine  a 
specimen  of  his  race  as  was  his  noble  brother, 
whom  I  never  can  mention  or  think  of  without 
a  sign  of  affectionate  regret.  Yet  in  his  ordi- 
nary bearing,  it  is  evident  that  Wingenund, 
from  his  peaceful  habits  and  avocations,  has 
lost  something  of  that  free  and  fearless  air, 
that  distinguished  his  warrior  brother.  I  have 
learnt,  however,  from,  Baptiste,  (who,  as  you 
know,  insisted  upon  accompanying  me  on  this 
expedition,)  that  the  fire  of  former  days  is  sub- 


THE   PRAIRIE-BIRD. 


207 


dued,  not  extinguished  within  him,  as  you  will 
perceive  from  the  following  anecdote,  picked  up 
by  our  friend  the  Guide  from  some  of  his  old 
acquaintance  in  the  village. 

"  It  appears  that  last  autumn  a  band  of  In- 
dians who  had  given  up  their  lands  somewhere 
near  the  head  waters  of  the  Illinois  river,  and 
were  moving  westward  for  a  wider  range  and 
better  hunting-ground,  passed  through  this  dis 
trict ;  and  seeing  the  peaceful  habits  and  occu- 
pations of  the  Delawares  settled  hereabouts, 
thought  that  they  might  be  injured  and  plun- 
dered with  impunity.  They  accordingly  came 
one  night  to  a  small  settlement  only  a  few 
miles  from  here,  and  carried  off  a  few  score 
of  horses  and  cattle,  burning  at  the  same  time 
the  dwelling  of  one  of  the  Delawares,  and  kill- 
ing a  young  man  who  attempted  to  defend  his 
father's  property.  A  messenger  having  brought 
this  intelligence  to  Wingenund,  he  collected  a 
score  of  his  most  trusty  followers,  and  taking 
care  that  they  were  well  armed,  went  upon  the 
trail  of  the  marauders.  He  soon  came  up  with 
them ;  and  their  numbers  being  more  than 
double  his  own,  they  haughtily  refused  all  par- 
ley and  redress,  telling  him  that  if  he  did  not 
withdraw  his  band  they  would  destroy  it  as 
they  had  destroyed  the  young  Delaware  and  his 
house  on  the  preceding  night. 

"  This  insolent  speech  uttered  by  the  leader 
of  the  party,  a  powerful  and  athletic  Indian, 
aroused  the  indignation  of  Wingenund  ;  his 
eyes  flashed  fire,  and  his  followers  saw  that  the 
warrior  spirit  of  his  early  days  was  rekindled 
within  him.  Ordering  them  to  unsling  and  lev- 
el their  rifles,  but  not  to  fire  until  he  gave  the 
word,  he  drew  near  to  the  leader  of  the  party, 
and  m  a  stern  voice  desired  him  to  restore  the 
plunder  and  give  up  the  murderer  of  the  Dela- 
ware youth.  The  reply  was  a  shout  of  defi- 
ance ;  and  a  blow  levelled  at  his  head,  which 
he  parried  with  his  rifle,  and  with  a  heavy 
stroke  from  its  butt,  he  levelled  his  antagonist 
on  the  ground ;  then,  swift  as  a  panther's 
spring,  he  leaped  upon  the  fallen  Indian's  chest, 
and  held  a  dagger  to  his  throat. 

"  Panic-struck  by  the  discomfiture  of  their 
leader,  and  by  the  resolute  and  determined  atti- 
tude of  the  Delawares,  the  marauders  entreated 
that  his  life  might  be  spared,  promising  to  give 
all  the  redress  required ;  and  on  the  same  day 
Wingenund  returned  to  his  village,  bringing  with 
him  the  recovered  horses  and  cattle,  and  the 
Indian  charged  with  the  murder,  whom  he  would 
not  allow  to  be  punished  according  to  the  Dela- 
ware notions  of  retributive  justice,  but  sent  him 
to  be  tried  at  a  circuit  court,  then  sitting  near 
St.  Charles'.  This  exploit  has  completely  es- 
tablished our  young  friend's  authority  among 
his  people,  some  of  whom  were,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  rather  disposed  to  despise  the  peaceful 
occupations  that  he  encouraged,  and  even  to 
hint  that  his  intercourse  with  the  Missionary 
had  quenched  all  manly  spirit  within  him.  You 
will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  he  has  married 
Lita,  who  was  for  a  long  while  so  deeply  attach- 
ed to  his  brother ;  even  had  she  been  the  wife 
of  the  latter,  this  would  have  been  as  conforma- 
ble to  Indian  as  to  ancient  Jewish  usage.  She 
now  speaks  English  intelligibly,  and  asked,  me  a 
thousand  questions  about  Prairie-bird.    Fortu- 


nately, she  had  chosen  a  subject  of  which  I  could 
never  weary ;  and  I  willingly  replied  to  all  her 
inquiries  ;  when  I  told  her  that  her  former  mis- 
tress and  favourite  had  now  three  little  ones, 
the  eldest  of  whom  was  able  to  run  about  from 
morning  till  night,  and  the  youngest  named 
Wingenund,  after  her  husband,  tears  of  joy  and 
of  awakened  remembrance  started  in  her  eyes. 
"  I  understood  her  silent  emotion,  and  loved 
her  for  it.  How  changed  is  her  countenance 
from  the  expression  it  wore  when  I  first  saw  it ! 
Then  it  was  at  one  moment  wild  and  sad,  like 
that  of  a  captive  pining  for  freedom  ;  at  the  next, 
dark  and  piercing,  like  that  of  the  daughter  of 
some  haughty  chief  Now  you  may  read  upon 
her  face  the  gentle  feelings  of  the  placid  anc 
contented  wife. 

"  When  I  left  the  village,  Wingenund  accom- 
panied me  for  many  miles  ;  twice  he  stopped  to 
take  leave  of  me,  when  some  still  unsatisfied 
inquiry  respecting  your  Lucy,  or  Prairie-bird, 
rose  to  his  lips,  and  again  he  moved  on  ;  I  can 
scarcely  remember  that  he  uttered  any  distinct 
profession  of  his  affection  for  any  of  us,  and  yet 
I  saw  that  his  heart  was  full ;  and  what  a  heart 
it  is,  dear  Edward  !  fear,  and  falsehood,  and  self 
are  all  alike  strangers  there  !  When  at  length 
we  parted,  he  pressed  me  in  silence  against  \m 
breast,  wrung  the  hand  of  Baptiste,  and  turned 
away  with  so  rapid  a  stride,  that  one  who  knew 
him  not  would  have  thought  we  had  parted  in 
anger. 

"  On  reaching  the  summit  of  a  hill  whence  I 
could  command  a  view  of  the  track  that  I  had 
followed,  I  unslung  my  telescope,  and,  carefully 
surveying  the  prairie  to  the  westward,  I  could 
distinguish,  at  a  distance  of  several  miles,  Win- 
genund seated  under  a  stunted  oak  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  and  in  an  attitude  of  deep 
dejection.  I  could  scarcely  repress  a  rising 
tear,  for  that  youth  has  inherited  all  the  affec- 
tion that  I  felt  for  him  to  whom  I  owe  my 
Evelyn's  life ! 

"  Harry  Gregson  and  his  wife  are  very  com- 
fortably settled  here,  and  appear  to  be  thriving 
in  their  worldly  concerns.  I  have  been  several 
times  to  his  counting-house,  and,  from  the  re- 
turns which  he  showed  me,  your  investments 
in  the  fur-trade,  as  well  as  in  land,  seemed  to 
have  been  most  successful. 

"  Jessie's  looks  are  not  quite  so  youthful  as 
they  were  when  she  was  the  belle  of  Marietta, 
but  she  has  the  beauty  of  unfailing  good-temper, 
which  we  Benedicts  prize  at  a  rate  unknown  to 
bachelors.  Harry  has  promised  to  pay  us  a  visit 
this  autumn ;  he  will  be  delighted  with  the  new 
house  that  you  have  built  for  his  father,  since 
his  promotion  to  the  rank  of  Captain. 

"  Perrot  has  found  so  many  '  compatriots' 
here,  that  he  chatters  from  morning  till  night ; 
and  his  wonderful  adventures,  by  'flood  and 
field,'  both  in  Europe  and  the  Western  Prairies, 
have  rendered  him  at  once  the  lion  and  the  ora- 
cle of  the  tavern  at  which  we  lodge. 

"  Distribute  for  me,  with  impartial  justice,  a 
thousand  loves  among  the  dear  ones  in  our  fami- 
ly circle,  and  tell  Evy  that  I  shall  not  write  again, 
as  I  propose  to  follow  my  letter  in  the  course 
of  a  few  days. 

"  Now  and  ever  your  afTectionate  brother, 
"  Reginald  Brandon  " 


PRAIRIE  FLOWER 


THE 


PEAIRIE  FLOWEE; 


OR, 


ADYENTUHES  II  THE  FAU  WEST. 


BY  EMERSON  BEINETT, 


AUTHOR  OF   THE  "BANDITS    OF   THE   OSAGE,"    "THE   RENEGADE,"   "MIKE   FINK,"  "] 

CLARENDON,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


But  0,  the  blooming  prairie, 

Here  are  God's  floral  bowers, 
Of  all  that  he  hath  made  on  earth 

The  loveliest.        *        *        * 
This  is  the  Almighty's  garden, 

And  the  mountains,  stars,  and  sea, 
Are  noug^ht  compared  in  beauty. 

With  Grod's  garden  prairie  free. 


STRATTON    &    BARNARD: 

CINCINNATI  AND  ST.  LOUIS. 

1849. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848, 

BY  ROBINSON  t  JONES, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  District  of  Ohio. 


THE 


PRAIEIE    FLO¥ER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PHOFOSITION — THE  RESOLVE — Ho!    FOR 
OREGON. 

"  Ho!  for  Oregon — what  say  you,  Frank 
Leighton!"  exclaimed  my  college  chum, 
Charles  Huntly,  rushing  into  my  room, 
nearly  out  of  breath,  where  I  was  cosily 
seated,  with  my  sheep-skin  diploma  spread 
before  me,  engaged  in  tracing  out  my  le- 
gal right  to  subjoin  the  magical  initials, 
M.  D.,  to  my  name.  "  Come,  what  say 
you,  Frank!"  quarried  my  companion 
again,  as  I  looked  up  in  some  surprise. 

"Why,  Charley,"  returned  I,  "what 
new  notion  has  taken  possession  of  your 
brain]" 

"  Oregon  and  adventure,"  he  quickly 
rejoined,  with  flashing  eyes.  "  You  know, 
Frank,  our  collegiate  course  is  finished, 
and  we  must  do  something  for  the  remain- 
der of  our  lives.  Now,  for  myself,  I  can- 
not bear  the  idea  of  settling  down  to  the 
dry  practice  of  law,  without  at  least  hav- 
ing seen  something  more  of  the  world; 
and  by  all  means  I  would  not  settle  here 
in  the  east,  where  lawyers  are  as  plenty 
as  stubble  in  a  harvested  rye-field,  and,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  to  make  the  compari- 
eon  good,  just  about  as  much  needed.  You 
know,  Frank,  we  have  often  planned  to- 
gether, where  we  would  go,  and  what  we 
would  do,  when  we  should  get  our  liberty; 
and  now  the  western  fever  has  seized  me, 


and  I  am  ready  to  exclaim — ho!  for  Ore- 
gon." 

"  But,  Charley,"  returned  I,  "  consider; 
here  we  are  bow,  snug  in  old  Cambridge, 
and  Oregon  is  thousands  of  miles  away. 
It  is  much  easier  saying,  ho!  for  Oregon, 
than  it  is  getting  to  Oregon.  Besides, 
what  should  we  do  when  there]" 

"Hunt,  fish,  trap,  shoot  Indians,  any 
thing,  every  thing,"  cried  my  comrade,  en- 
thusiastically, "  so  we  manage  to  escape 
ennui,  and  have  plenty  of  adventure!" 

"  I  must  confess  ''  said  I,  "  that  I  like 
the  idea  wonderfully  well — but " 

"  But  me  no  huts!"  exclaimed  Huntly; 
"you  will  like  it  —I  shall  like  it — and  we 
will  both  have  such  glorious  times.  Col- 
lege— law — pah!  I  am  heartily  sick  of 
hearing  of  either,  and  long  for  those  mag- 
nificent wilds,  where  a  man  may  throw 
about  his  arms  without  fear  of  punching 
any  body  in  the  ribs.  So  come,  Frank, 
set  about  matters — settle  up  your  affairs, 
if  you  have  any,  either  in  money  or  love — 
and  then  follow  me.  Faith!  man,  I'll 
guide  you  to  a  real  El  Dorado,  and  no  mis- 
take." 

The  words  of  my  companion  produced 
a  strong  effect  upon  my  naturally  restless 
mind.  Nothing  that  he  could  have  pro- 
posed, at  that  moment,  would  have  suited 
my  inclination  better  than  such  a  journey 
of  adventure;  and  no  companion  would  I 
have  chosen  in  preference  to  himself.  We 
had  been  playmates  together  in  infancy, 


10 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


we  had  sluflied  together  in  youth,  and,  for 
the  last  four  years,  had  been  chums  at  ohl 
Harvard  University — he  studying  law  and 
I  medicine.  True,  by  the  strict  discipline 
of  the  University,  vi^e  were  not  entitled  to 
occupy  the  same  apartment,  on  account 
of  our  difibrent  studies;  but  the  influence 
of  our  connections  made  us  privileged  per- 
sonages; and  the  professors  winked  at 
many  things  in  us,  that  in  others  would 
have  be  :n  grave  olTences.  The  substance 
of  the  matter  is,  we  began  our  stutlies  to- 
gether, roomed  together,  and  each  com-  j 
pleted  his  course  at  the  same  time. 

From  childhood  up,  I  had  loved  Charles 
Huntlv— or  Charley,  as  I  more  familiarly  | 
termed  him — as  a  brother;  and  this  frater- 1 
nal  feeling  I  knew  he  as  warmly  returned. 
We  walked  together,  played  together,  sung  i 
together— ever  took  each  other's  part  on  j 
all  occasions,  whether  right  or  wrong —  j 
and,  in  fact,  for  our  close  intimacy,  were  j 
dubbed  the  Siamese  Twins.      We  were; 
both  only  sons  of  wealthy  parents.     My  | 
father  was  a  wholesale  merchant  in  Bos- 
ton; so  was  his;  the  only  difference  in  their 
occupations  being,  that  the  former  dealt 
in  dry  goods,  the  latter  in  groceries.   Now 
there   was    another    strong    tie   between 
young  Iluntly  and  myself.      He  had  an 
only  sister — a  sweet,  modest,  affectionate 
creature,  some  three  years  his  junior — 
whom  I  loved  with  all  the  ardent  passion 
of  a  fiery  and  impetuous  youth;  and  was, 
I  fancied — though  at  that  time  it  was  fancy 
only — loved  in  return.    Be  that  as  it  might, 
my  passion  for  his  sister  he  knew  and  en- 
couraged; and  this,  as  I  said  before,  only 
added  a  stronger  link  to  the  chain  of  our 
friendship. 

In  age,  Charles  Huntly  was  my  senior 
b/  nearly  a  year,  and  was  now  ;a  little 
turned  of  twenty-one.  In  stature  we 
.vere  much  alike — both  being  ahout  five 
feet  and  ten  inches,  with  regular' propor- 
tions. In  complexion  we  differed  mate- 
rially— he  being  light,  with  light  curly 
hair;  and  I  dark,  with  hair  black  and 
straight.  In  personal  appearance,  my 
triend  was  remarkably  handsome  and  pre- 
possessing. His  beauty  did  not  consist  in 
the  mere  perfection  of  features — though 
tihese  were,  in  general,  very  fine — so  much 


as  in  the  play  and  e.xpression  of  the  whole 
countenance,  where  every  thought  seemed 
to  make  an  instant  and  passing  impres- 
sion. His  forehead  was  high  and  broad, 
and  stamped  with  intellect,  beneath  which 
shone  a  bright,  blue  eye,  that  could  spar- 
kle with  mirth,  or  flash  with  anger,  as  the 
case  might  be.  The  contour  of  his  face 
was  a  something  between  the  Grecian  and 
Anglo-Saxon,  though  the  nose  was  decid- 
edly of  the  former  cast.  His  skin — fine, 
smooth,  and  almost  beardless — gave  him 
an  appearance  so  boyish  that  I  was  often 
mistaken  for  his  senior  by  several  years — 
a  matter  which  generally  irritated  him  not 
a  little,  as  he  had  a  strong  repugnance  to 
being  thought  effeminate.  His  tempera- 
ment was  strongly  nervous.  At  heart  he 
was  truly  noble  and  generous;  but  this,  by 
those  who  did  not  Ijnow  him  intimately, 
was  very  frequently  overlooked  in  his  hot 
and  hasty  temper.  None  was  more  ready 
to  resent  an  insult,  or  redress  a  wrong; 
and  as  he  was  very  tenacious  of  his  own 
honor,  so  was  he  of  another's.  If  you  in- 
sulted him,  you  must  take  the  conse- 
quences, and  thej* would  not  be  slow  to 
follow,  unless  ample  apology  was  made,  in 
which  case  his  hand  was  ever  open  for 
friendship.  If  he  did  you  a  wrong,  and  be- 
came convinced  of  it,  he  could  not  rest 
until  he  had  sued  for  pardon.  He  was  wild 
at  times  in  his  notions,  headstrong,  hot- 
brained,  and,  in  genersi,  a  great  enthusi- 
ast. Whenever  any  thing  new  took  pos- 
session of  his  mind,  it  was  the  great  all- 
in-all  for  the  time  being;  but  was  very  apt 
to  pass  away  soon,  and  be  supplied  by 
something  equally  as  great,  and  equally  as 
evanescent. 

Such,  as  I  have  just  enumerated,  were 
the  striking  points  in  the  appearance  and 
character  of  Charles  Huntly;  and  though 
in  the  latter  we  were  much  alike,  yet  we 
seldom  quarrelled,  and  then  only  to  make 
it  up  the  next  time  we  met. 

Now  as  Charles  remarked,  in  language 
which  I  have  already  quoted,  we  had  of- 
ten, during  our  leisure  moments,  laid  out 
plans  of  adventure  for  the  future,  when 
our  collegiate  course  should  be  finished. 
But  the  plan  of  to-day  had  been  always 
superceded  by  the  one  of  to-morrow,  so 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


11 


tliat,  unless  we  resolved  on  something 
steadily,  it  was  more  than  probable  that 
the  whole  would  result,  simply,  in  specu- 
lating visions  of  the  brain.  The  last  pro- 
position was,  of  course,  the  one  which 
opens  this  chapter;  and  which  had,  per- 
haps, less  weight  with  me  at  the  moment, 
from  my  remembering  the  failure  of  all  the 
others.  Still,  there  was  one  thing  in  its 
favor  which  none  of  the  others  had  had. 
We  had  completed  our  studies  now,  and 
were  at  liberty,  if  we  resolved  on  it,  to 
carry  our  project  into  immediate  execu- 
tion, before  it  should  become  trite;  and 
besides,  nothing  before  had  seemed  so  ful- 
ly to  meet  the  views  of  both  In  every  par- 
ticular. Adventure  was  our  delight  in 
every  shape  we  could  find  it;  as  several 
powerful  admonitions  and  premonitorj 
warnings  from  our  tutors,  for  various  little 
peccadilloes — such  as  tying  a  calf  to  the 
bell  rope,  playing  the  ghost  to  old  women, 
upsetting  bee-hives,  and  robbing  hen- 
roosts— might  well  attest.  But  there  was, 
notwithstanding,  a  drawback,  which  made 
me  hesitate  when  my  friend  interrupted 
me.  He  was  of  age,  but  I  was  not;  and 
my  father  might  not  be  willing  to  give  his 
consent,  without  which  I  certainly  would 
not  venture.  Another:  I  loved  Lilian 
Huntly;  and  should  I  go  and  leave  her, 
she  might  get  married  in  my  absence — a 
result  which  I  felt  was  not  to  be  endur- 
ed. 

While  I  sat,  with  my  head  upon  my 
hand,  buried  in  thought,  rapidly  running 
these  things  over  in  my  mind,  my  compan- 
oni  stood  watching  me,  as  if  to  gather  my 
decision  from  the  expression  of  my  counte- 
nance. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  it 
seems  you  have  become  very  studious  all 
at  once.  How  long  is  it  going  to  take 
you  to  decide  on  accepting  so  glorious  a 
propositionl" 

"  How  long  since  the  idea  of  it  entered 
your  head]"  I  inquired. 

"  Ten,  fifteen,  ay,  (looking  at  his  watch) 
twenty  minutes.  I  was  down  for  the  pur- 
pose of  getting  a  hack,  to  take  us  over  to 
the  city,  when  the  thought  came  across 
me  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  I  turned 
and  hurried  back,  to " 


"  See  me  before  you  altered  your  mind," 
interrupted  I,  completing  his  sentence. 

"  Confound  you,  Frank — wait  tiU  I  have 
done.  I  hurried  back,  I  say,  to  let  you 
share  the  bright  prospect  with  me." 

"  Humph!  prospect  indeed!"  said  I,  with. 
a  laugh,  merely  for  the  purpose  of  annoy- 
ing him;  for  I  saw,  by  his  whole  demean- 
or, that  he  was  decidedly  in  earnest.  "And 
a  prospect  it  Vvill  ever  remain,  I  am  think- 
ing, a  long  way  ahead.  You  are  joking, 
Charley,  are  you  not!" 

"  No,  by  all  the  bright  cupids  of  fairy 
realms,  I  swear  to  you,  Frank,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  never  was'  so  serious  about  any 
thing  in  my  life,  since  the  time  when  I 
played  the  ghostly  tin-pan  drummer  to  the 
edification  of  old  Aunt  Nabby." 

"  But  allowing  you  are  in  earnest,  you 
have  overlooked  two  important  points  in 
asking  me  to  accompany  you." 

"  Ha!  what  are  they!" 

"  My  father,  and  Lilian." 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  Frank — don't  be  a  fooi!" 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  trying  to 
guard  against,  Charley.  Shall  I  assist  you 
a  little!" 

"  Pshaw!  stuff!  nonsence! — what  have 
your  father  and  my  sister  to  do  with  it!" 

"  Why,  the  first  might  refuse  Li*  consent 
to  my  going;  and  the  last  might  consent 
to  have  my  place  filled  in  my  absence." 

"  Well,"  answered  Charley,  "  as  to  your 
father,  I  will  pledge  you  my  word  that  he 
will  give  his  consent;  and  for  Lilian,  that 
she  will  await  your  return,  if  it  be  six^ 
years  hence." 

"You  will]"  cried  I,  jumping  up  so  sud-- 
denly  as  to  upset  the  table  on  to  the  toes 
of  my  companion;  "you  will  pledge  your 
word  to  this,  Charley!" 

"  A  plague  on  that  table  and  your  great 
haste!"  muttered  Huntly,  hobbling  about 
the  room,  and  holding  his  bruised  foot  in 
his  hand.  "  Yes,  I  will  pledge  you  my 
honor  to  both,  if  you  will  say  the  word." 

"Enough!  here  is  my  hand  on  it,"  J. 
cried. 

Down  went  the  bruised  foot,  and  tht 
next  moment  I  felt  the  bones  of  my  fing- 
ers crack  under  the  powerful  presbure  of 
those  of  my  enthusiastic  friend. 

"Now,  Frank,"  he   almost  shouted,  ca-. 


12 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


pering  about  the  room  for  joy,  you  are 
pledged  beyond  a  back-out." 

"  On  condition  you  make  your  pledge 
good." 

"  I  will  do  it  or  die." 

"  Then  enough  is  said." 

"  Hurrah,  then,  for  a  hack!"  cried  Charles 
Huntly,  darting  out  of  my  room  and  down 
a  flight  of  stairs,  to  the  imminent  danger 
of  his  neck:  "  Hurrah  for  a  hack!  and  ho! 
for  the  Rocky  Mountains,  Oregon,  and  the 
far,  far  West!" 


CHAPTER   11. 

FREPARATION LOVE — JEALOUSY SEPARA- 
TION AND   DEPARTURE. 

It  was  a  clear,  starlight  evening  in  the 
month  of  May,  that  I  found  myself  slow- 
ly nearing  the  fine  mansion  of  Benjamin 
liuntly,  to  behold  my  sweet  and  dearly 
loved  Lilian,  perhaps  for  the  last  time.  I 
felt  strangely,  as  I  had  never  felt  before. 


may  plan  in  secret,  however  strikingly 
we  may  draw  the  pictures  of  adventure  in 
the  rosy  colors  of  anticipation,  however 
great  may  be  our  inclination  to  go  and  see 
the  world  for  ourselves;  yet  whrn  the  time 
of  separation  comes — when  we  are  about 
to  cut  the  cord  that  binds  us  to  all  we  have 
ever  seen  and  loved — the  heart  grows  sad, 
and  soft,  and  we  feel  as  if  staggering  un- 
der the  weight  of  some  impending  ca- 
lamity. 

Thus  I  felt,  and  a  great  deal  more  which 
I  cannot  describe,  as  I  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  steps  of  Lilian  Huntly's 
dwelling,  to  compose  my  agitated  nerves 
and  appear  calm  and  collected.  Why  was 
it  that  my  agitation  should  now  only  in- 
crease] Why  could  I  never  appear  before 
her  as  before  any  other  I  had  ever  seen — 
cool  and  collected?  Why  must  my  heart 
always  flutter  so,  and  my  usually  free- 
coming  words  stick  chokingly  in  my  throat, 
or  congeal  upon  my  lips  ?  Was  it  because 
I  loved  her]  I  would  have  given  half  my 
expected  inheritance  to  talk  to  her  freely, 
as  I  could  to  others.     I  had  often  tried  it. 


A  week  had  elapsed,  and  all  had  been  ar-  but  in  vain.  I  always  made  a  fool  of  my- 
ranged  for  my  departure,  at  an  early  hour 
on  the  following  morning.  The  consent 
of  my  parents  had  been  reluctantly  yield- 
ed to  the  powerful  eloquence  and  soft  per- 
suasion of  my  enthusiastic  friend.  Al- 
ready had  my  trunks  been  packed,  and  my 
purse  filled,  for  the  long  separation.  Al- 
ready had  I  listened  to  the  parental  advice 
of  my  father,  and  seen  the  tears  of  sorrow 
in  my  beloved  mother's  eyes.  The  strug- 
gle of  consent,  but  not  of  parting,  was 
now  over;  and  I  was  wending  my  way  to 
the  house  of  my  friend,  to  take  leave  of 
one,  at  the  thought  of  whom  my  heart 
ever  beat  rapidly.  As  I  said  before,  I 
felt  strangely.  I  was  about  to  bid  adieu — 
a  long,  perchance  a  last,  adieu — to  all  the 
bright  scenes  of  my  childhood — to  friends 
near  and  dear  to  me — to  father  and  mother 
— and,  last,  though  not  least,  to  the  idol 
of  my  purer  thoughts. 

It  is  hard,  very  hard,  to  leave  the  scenes 
of  our  youth  for  the  first  time — to  venture 
forth,  we  scarce  know  whither,  like  a  fea- 
ther borne  unconsciously  upon  the  strong- 
est current  of  aij-.     However  much  we 


self,  and  I  knew  it.  I  fancied  Lilian 
knew  it  too;  and  this  only  added  to  my 
embarrassment.  My  heart  and  my  self- 
esteem  whispered  me  I  was  loved;  but  my 
bashful  fears  told  me  the  contrary.  1  had 
never  tested  her,  and  now  I  was  about  to 
do  it.  If  she  loved  me,  she  would  plainly 
show  it  the  moment  of  separation.  I  was 
shortly  to  be  made  happy  or  miserable,  or 
miserably  happy;  for  if  she  loved  me,  I 
should  be  happy  in  knowing  it — unhappy 
in  the  thought  of  a  long  parting.  I  trem- 
bled as  I  thought,  until  my  knees  smote 
each  other  as  did  Belsh.zzer's. 

At  last,  desperate  effort!  I  assumed  a 
courage  I  did  not  possess,  and,  ascending 
the  steps,  rang  the  bell.  In  another  min- 
ute I  was  ushered  into  the  parlor,  and  the 
servant  who  admitted  me  was  already  gone 
to  summon  my  fair  judge.  I  gazed  around 
upon  the  beautiful  paintings  which  adorn- 
ed the  walls,  but  without  seeing  them.  I 
felt  like  a  guilty  culprit  about  to  hear  his 
doom.  Could  money,  at  that  moment, 
have  purchased  me  easy  ase  trance,  I  would 
have  had  it  at  any  price.        rema  aed  ia 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


13 


suspense  some  five  minutes,  when  tho 
door  opened  and  Lilian  entered — entered 
like  a  fairy  being  into  her  golden  realms. 
Heavens!  how  lovely!  I  had  neverseen 
her,  or  ought  else,  look  so  enchantingly 
sweet  before.  In  complection  and  fea- 
tures, Lilian  strongly  resembled  her  bro- 
ther— save  that  every  thing  was  more  soft, 
^  more  effeminate,  more  exquisitely  beauti- 
ful.    Her  skin  was  fair,  and  clear  as  ala- 


her  now  pale  cheeks:  "  I  understand:  I 
am  about  to  lose  a — a — brother,  and  a — a 
—friend." 

Friend!  Heavens!  how  cold  that  word! 
It  should  be  clipped  by  every  lexicographer 
and  sent  out  of  existence.  Friend!  Why 
it  chilled  my  blood,  and  for  the  moment 
made  me  an  enemy  of  the  language  which 
harbored  it.  Was  there,  then,  no  other 
term — one  a  little  more  endearing? — and 


baster,  with  a  slight  tint  of  crimson  upon  I  if  so,  why  did  she  select  one  so  cold? — 
each  cheek.  Her  features  were  all  of  the  j  Perhaps  she  meant  it!  Perhaps  her  grief 
finest  mould.     Her  large,  soft,  clear  blue  i  was  only  for  the  loss  of  a  brother,  and — if 


eyes,  were  rendered  extremely  fascinating 
by  long,  drooping,  delicately  fringed  lashes. 
In  their  depths  was  a  soul  of  tender 
thought,  feeling,  and  love;  and,  most  joy- 
ful discovery!  they  were  now  swimming  in 
tears.  She  loved  me  then,  and  had  been 
weeping  at  the  thought  of  my  leaving  her! 
The  expression  of  her  sweet  countenance, 
too,  was  sad.  Her  plump,  cherry  lips 
were  just  parted,  as  if  about  to  speak,  dis- 
playing two  rows  of  beautiful  pearls.  Her 
light  hair  was  arranged  a  la  mode,  and  a 
bright,  glowing  diamond  sparkled  on  her 
forehead.  Her  exquisitely  faultless  form 
was  arrayed  in  the  emblem  of  purity,  a 
snowy  white  dress,  which  almost  made  me 
fancy  her  an  etherial,  a  spiritual  visiter. 

She  advanced  with  a  timid  step,  and 
held  out  her  snowy,  dimple  hand.  She 
tried  to  speak,  but  language  failed  her.  I 
tried  to  do  the  same,  with  a  like  success. 
I  made  a  step  towards  her,  and  her  hand 
touched  mine.  Heavens!  what  emotions 
thrilled  me!  I  was  beside  myself  with 
the  deepest  joy  I  had  ever  felt.  I  forgot 
formality,  caution,  prudence,  every  thing — 
and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  about,  or 
how  I  did  it,  my  lips  were  pressed  to  hers. 
The  pressure  was  returned,  one  moment, 
and  then  she  sprang  away,  blushing  and 
confused.  Think  what  you  may  of  it, 
reader,  that  was  the  happiest  moment  of 
my  life. 

I  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence,  and 
I  trembled  as  I  did  so. 

"  I  have  come.  Miss  Lilian,"  I  stammer- 
ed, "to— to " 

I  understand,"  she  murmured,  faintly, 


I  must  use  the  hateful  term — a  friend!  In 
that  case  she  could  not  love  me.  I  had 
once  more  made  a  fool  of  myself.  But  I 
would  not  do  so  again.  I  would  let  her 
see  that  I  could  be  as  indifferent  as  her- 
self. She  should  not  have  cause  to  boast 
in  after  times — perhaps  when  wedded  to 
another — how  much  I  loved  her,  and  how 
she  pitied  me.  No!  I  would  be  cold  as 
marble — ay!  as  a  Lapland  iceberg.  These 
thoughts  went  through  my  mind  rapidly; 
and  scarcely  a  minute's  pause  succeed- 
ed, before  I  said,  coolly  enough,  heaven 
knows: 

"  Yes,  Miss  Huntly,  I  have  come  to  bid 
you  a  last  farewell,  and  have  but  a  few 
spare  moments  to  do  it  in." 

I  looked  at  her  indiflTsrently  as  I  spoke, 
and,  O!  what  would  I  not  have  given  to 
recall  those  words!  Her  soft,  blue  eyes 
turned  full  upon  me,  with  a  mingled  ex- 
pression of  surprise  and  reproach,  which  I 
shall  never  forget.  Her  cheeks  grew 
more  deadly  pale  'than  ever;  and  her  lips 
quivered,  as  she  sighed,  almost  inaudibly, 
my  name.  There  was  no  withstanding 
this;  and  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
I  threw  myself  at  her  feet,  and  exclaimed: 

"O, Lilian!  sweet  Lilian!  I  have  wrong- 
ed you.  You  love  me,  Lilian — you  love- 
me!" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  her  look  spoke 
volumes,  as  her  eyes  modestly  sought  the 
ground,  and  a  slight  flush  beautifully  tint- 
ed her  cheeks.  I  seized  her  hand,  raptur- 
ously, and  pressed  it  warmly.  She  did 
not  return  the  pressure,  neither  did  she 
seek  to  avoid  it.     I  was  in  raptures,  and  I 


sinking  into  a  seat;  while  slowly  the  tears,   felt  a  soul  of  eloquence  upon  my  lips, 
that  could  not  be  suppressed,  stole  down       "  I  wronged  you,  Lilian,"  I  said,  pas- 


14 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


sionately.  "  I  thought  you  were  cold- 
hearted,  because  you  called  me  friend. 
But  I  was  mistaken,!  see!  I  was  expect- 
ing a  warmer  term;  but  I  had  forgotten  it 


"But  you  forget,  dear  Lilian,  that  I 
am  about  to  leave  you — that  there  may 
never  be  a  time  like  the  present!  Only 
say  you  love  me,  fair   one,   and  it  is  all  I 


was  not  your  place  to  use  it  fir?t.     Lilian,  I  ask." 

dear  Lilian — permit  me  so  to  call  you — I        "But— but "   she    stammered,   and 

am  about  to  go  far  away;  and  God  only   then  paused. 

knows  when,  if  ever,  I  thall  return.  Par- i  "Ha!  then  I  have  after  all  mistaken 
don  me,  then,  if  I  improve  the  present  mo- 1  friendship  for  love!"  I  returned,  quickly, 
ments,  and  speak  the  sentiments  of  my  j  starting  abruptly  to  my  feet,  and  feeling 
heart.  I  have  known  you,  Lilian,  from  a|  some  slight  symptoms  of  indignation, 
child;  but  I  have  known  you  only  to  love  Again  her  soft,  reproachful  eye  met 
and  adore.     You  have  been  the  ideal  of  mine,  and  every  angry  impulse  vanished 


my  boyish  dreams,  either  sleeping  or  wa- 
king. The  perfection  of  divine  beauty, 
with  me,  has  had  but  one  standard — your 
own  sweet,  faultless  face  and  form.  Every 
happy  thought  of  my  existence,  has  some 
how  had  a  connection  with  yourself.  I 
could  not  picture  happiness,  without  draw- 
ing you  in  glowing  colors,  the  foremost 
and  principal  figure.  I  have  thought  of 
you  by  day,  dreamed  of  you  by  night,  for 
many  years — have  longed  to  be  near  you. 


before  its  heavenly  ray. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Francis,"  she  said. 
"  I — I "  another  pause. 

Again  was  I  at  her  feet,  ashamed  of  my 
hasty  display  of  jealous  temper. 

"  The  word  is  trembling  upon  your  lips, 
Lilian,"  I  exclaimed;  "  speak  it,  and " 

At  this  moment,  to  my  astonishment  and 
chagrin,  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  an 
elegantly  dressed  gentleman,  some  five  or 
six  years  my  senior,  highly  perfumed  with 


have  worshipped  you   in  secret,  and  yet  I  the  oil  of  roses  and  musk,  took  one  step 


have  never  dared  to  tell  you  so  till  now. 
Whenever  tempted  to  do  wrong,  your  love- 
ly face  has  been  my  Mentor,  to  chide  and 
restrain  me.  I  have  loved  you,  Lilian — 
deeply,  passionately,  devotedly  loved  you, 
with  the  first,  undefiled  love  of  an  ardent 


over  the  threshhold,  and  then,  perceiving 
me,  drew  quickly  back,  evidently  as  much 
surprised  and  embarrassed  as  myself. — 
Meantime,  I  had  sprung  to  my  feet,  with' 
a  whirlpool  of  feelings  in  my  breast  im- 
possible to  be  described — the  predominant 


temperament — as  I  never  can  love  another.  I  of  which  were  anger,    mortification    and 


I  am  about  to  leave,  and  I  tell  you  this, 
and  only  ask  if  I  am  loved  in  return. — 
Speak!  let  your  sweet  lips  confirm  what 
your  looks  have  spoken,  and  I  am  the  hap- 


jealousy.  Lilian,  too,  had  started  up,  and 
turned  toward  the  stranger  (stranger  to 
me)  with  an  embarrassed  air. 

"  I  crave  pardon,"  said  the  intruder,  col- 


piest  of  human  beings!"  oring,  "for  my  seeming  rudeness,  in   ap- 

I  ceased,  and  paused  for  an  answer. —   pearing  thus  unannounced.     I  found  the 


While  speaking,  the  head  of  the  fair  being 
at  whose  feet  I  kneeled,  gradually,  un- 
consciously as  it  were,  sunk  upon  my 
shoulder,  where  it  now  reposed  in  all  its 
loveliness.  She  raised  her  face,  crimson 
with  blushes  and  wet  with  tears.  Her 
hand,  still  held  in  mine,  trembled — and 
her  lips,  as  she  essayed  to  speak. 

"  O,  Francis!"  she  at  length  articulated 
— then  there  came  a  silence. 

"  Say  on,  Lilian,  and  make  me  happy!" 
"No,  no!"  she  said,  quickly,  looking  hur- 
riedly around  her,  as  if  fearful  of  the  pre- 
sence of  another.     "  No,  no,  Francis — not 
now — some  other  time." 


outer  door  ajar,  and  made  bold  to  step 
within,  without  ringing,  not  thinking  to 
meet  with  any  here  save  the  regular  mem- 
bers of  the  family." 

"  Then  you  must  either  be  a  constant 
visiter,  or  no  gentleman,  to  take  even  that 
liberty,"  I  rejoined,  in  a  sarcastic  tone  of 
some  warmth. 

The  face  of  the  intruder  became  as 
scarlet  at  my  words,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
indignantly,  as  he  replied,  in  a  sharp,  point- 
ed tone: 

"  1  awi  a  regular  visiter  here,  sir!  but 
your  face  is  new  to  me." 

"  Indeed!"  I  rejoined, with  an  expression 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


15 


Qf  contempt^  turning  my  eyes  upon  Lilian, 
as  if  for  an  explanation. 

She  was  trembling  with  embarrassment, 
and  her  features  alternately  flushing  and 
paling,  like  the  rapid  playings  of  an  au- 
roro  horealis.  She  hastened  to  speak,  to 
cover  her  confusion,  and  prevent,  if  possi- 
ble, any  further  unpleasant  remarks. 

"  This—this — is  Mr.  Wharton,  Francis," 
she  stammered;  "  a  gentleman  who  calls 
here  occasionally.  Mr.  Whar — Wharton, 
Mr.  Leightonj  an  old  friena  of  mine." 

Of  course  the  rules  of  good  breeding 
required  us  to  bow  on  being  thus  formally 
introduced  to  each  other;  and  this  we  did, 
but  very  stiffly,  and  with  an  air  of  secret 
hate  and  defiance.  That  moment  we 
knew  ourselves  to  be  rivals,  and  conse- 
quently enemies;  for  it  was  impossible 
there  should  be  any  love  between  us.  As 
for  myself,  I  was  powerfully  excited,  and 
indignant  beyond  the  bounds  of  propriety. 
Hasty,  passionate  and  jealous  in  my  dis- 
position, I  was  unfit  to  love  any  one;  for 
to  me, 

"  Trifles  light  as  air, 
Were  confirmations  strong  as  proofs  of  holy  writ," 

in  consequence  of  which,  I  only  loved  to 
be  miserable,  and  render  the  object  loved 
equally  so. 

I  exchanged  no  more  words  with  Whar- 
ton, but  turning  to  Lilian,  I  said,  with  all 
the  coolness  my  boiling  blood  would  al- 
low: 

"  So,  then,  the  riddle  is  solved.  Had 
you  been  frank  enough  to  have  informed 
me  that  you  expected  'particular  company 
to-night,  I  should  certainly,  ere  this,  have 
ridden  you  of  my  presence." 

"  O,  Francis,"  cried  Lilian,  with  an  im- 
ploring, reproachful  look,  from  eyes  moist 
with  tears;  "you  are  mistaken! — indeed, 
indeed  you  are!" 

"  O,  yes,  of  course,"  I  replied,  bitterly, 
as  I  coolly  drew  on  my  glove,  and  prepared 
to  take  my  final  leave:  "  Of  course  I  am, 
or  was,  mistaken;  but  I  shall  not  be  likely 
to  be  again  immediately,  I  presume.  Fare- 
well, Miss  Huntly,!"  I  continued,  coldly, 
rudely  extending  to  her  my  gloved  hand. 
"  I  shall  probably  never  see  you  again,  as  I 
leave  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning." 

O,  what  a  look  she  gave  me  at  that  mo- 


ment, of  sweet,  heart-touching,  mournfu 
reproach — a  look  which  haunted  me  fo 
days,  for  weeks,  for  months,  for  years — a 
look  which,  were  I  an  artist,  would  perad- 
venture  be  found  upan  every  face  I  painted. 
"  Francis!"  she  gasped,  and  sunk  faint- 
ing and  colorless  upon  a  seat. 

This,  in  spite  of  my  jealous  feelings, 
touched  me  sensibly,  and  I  was  on  the 
point  of  springing  to  her  aid,  when  Whar- 
ton passed  me  for  the  purpose.  I  cculd 
stand  no  more — the  devil  was  in  me — and 
with  a  scarcely  suppressed  imprecation 
upon  my  lips,  I  rushed  out  of  the  apart- 
ment. 

In  the  hall  I  met  my  friend  Charles. 
"  Ha!  Frank,"  he  exclaimed, "you seem 
flurried.     What  has  happened]" 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,"  I  replied,  point- 
ing with  my  finger  to  the  apartment  I  had 
just  quitted.  "  Give  my  kind  regards  to 
your  parents,  and  bid  them  farewell  for 
mo." 

"But  stay  a  moment." 
"  No!  I  must  go;"  and  I  seized  my  hat, 
and  made  for  the  door. 

"  All  ready  for  the  start  in  the  morning, 
I  suppose,  Frank!" 

"  Ay,  for  to-night  if  you  choose,"  I  re- 
plied, as  I  hurried  down  the  steps  leading 
to  the  street. 

I  paused  a  moment,  as  my  feet  touched 
the  pavement,  and,  as  I  did  so,  heard  the 
voice  of  Huntly  summoning  the  servants 
to  the  aid  of  his  sister.  I  waited  to  hear 
no  more,  but  darted  away  down  the  street, 
like  a  madman,  scarcely  knowing,  and  car- 
ing less,  whither  I  went. 

Such  was  my  parting  with  Lilian  Huntly. 
At  last  I  found  my  way  home,  and  soft- 
ly stealing  to  my  chamber,  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed — but  not  to  sleep.  I  slept 
none  that  night.  My  brain  was  like  a 
heated  furnace.  I  rolled  to  and  fro  in  the 
greatest  mental  torture  I  had  ever  en- 
dured. 

Morn  came  at  last,  and  with  it  Charles 
Huntly,  all  prepared  for  the  journey.  I 
eat  a  morsel,  pointed  out  my  trunks,  sigh- 
a  farewell  to  my  parents,  jumped  into  the 
carriage,  and  was  whirled  away  with  great 
rapidity. 

Charles   looked   pale  and  sac',  and  was 


15 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


not  loquacious.  I  wanted  him  to  talk — to 
apeak  of  Lilian — but  he  carefully  avoided 
any  allusion  to  her.  I  was  dying  to  know 
how  he  left  her,  but  would  not  question 
him  on  the  subject.  I  inquired  how  he 
left  the  family,  however,  and  he  replied: 

"  Indifferently  well." 

"  Well,"  sighed  I,  to  myself, "  she  loves 
another,  so  why  should  I  care!" 

Half  past  seven,  and  the  rushing,  roll- 
ing, rumbling  cars,  were  bearing  us  swift- 
ly away.  Fifteen  minutes  more,  and  the 
city  of  our  nativity  had  faded  from  our 
view,  perhaps  forever. 

We  were  speeding  onward — thirty  miles 
per  hour — westward  ho!  for  Oregon. 


CHAPTER  III. 

REFLECTIONS — THE     GREAT     METROPOLIS 

THE  WORLD  IN  MINIATURE — THE  NATION- 
AL    THEATRE ALARM — FIRE  —  AWFUL 

PERIL PROVIDENTIAL   ESCAPE,  ETC. 

Steamboats  and  railroads!  what  mighty 
inventions!  With  what  startling  velocity 
they  hurry  us  along,  until  even  the  over- 
charged mind  almost  feels  it  lacks  the 
power  to  keep  pace  with  their  progress. 
Whoever  has  passed  over  the  Boston  and 
Providence  route  lo  New  York,  will  under- 
stand me.  One  mile  post  succeeds  an- 
other with  a  rapidity  almost  incredible; 
and  ere  he,  who  travels  it  for  the  first 
time,  is  aware  that  half  the  distance  is 
completed,  he  finds  himself  in  view  of  the 
capital  of  old  Rhode  Island. 

So  it  was  with  myself.  I  had  never 
been  from  home,  and  knew  little  of  the 
speed  with  which  the  adventurer  is  carried 
across  this  mighty  continent.  I  had  heard 
men  speak  of  it,  it  is  true;  but  I  had  never 
realized  it  till  now.  Perhaps  I  was  longer 
on  the  road  than  I  imagined.  When  the 
heart  is  full,  we  take  but  little  note  of  ex- 
ternal objects,  or  the  flight  of  time — time 
which  is  bearing  us  to  the  great  ocean  of 
eternity.  My  mind  was  oppressed  and 
busy.  I  was  thinking  of  home,  of  fond  pa- 
rents I  had  left  behind,  and  all  the  joys  of 
childhood,  which   I   could   never  witness 


again.  A  thousand  things,  a  thousand 
scenes,  which  I  had  never  thought  of  be- 
fore, now  crowded  my  brain  with  a  vivid- 
ness that  startled  me.  They  were  gone 
now — forever  gone!  I  had  bid  them  a  last 
adieu.  With  one  bold  leap,  I  had  thrown 
off  youth  and  become  a  man — a  man  to 
think  and  act  for  myself.  My  collegiate 
days,  too,  were  over — days  which  memory 
now  recalled  with  sad  and  painful  feelings. 

True,  my  playmate,  my  fellow  student, 
my  chum,  my  friend,  wSiS  by  my  side.  But 
he,  too,  was  sad  and  thoughtful.  He,  too, 
was  thinking  of  home  and  friends,  the  do- 
mestic happy  fire-side,  and  all  that  he  had 
left  behind.  His  wonted  gaiety,  his  great 
flow  of  spirits,  his  enthusiasm,  were  gone; 
and  he  was  silent  now — dumb  as  a  carved 
image  in  marble. 

I  gazed  upon  him,  and  my  thoughts 
grew  heavier,  sadder.  He  was  now  so  like 
Lilian — sweet,  loved,  but  ah!  discarded 
Lilian!  How  could  I  avoid  thinking  of 
her,  when  I  gazed  upon  the  pale,  sad  fea- 
tures of  her  only  brother!  I  did  think  of 
her;  of  how  I  had  left  her;  and  now  that 
miles  were  gaining  between  us,  I  bitterly 
accused  myself  of  injustice.  Why  did  I 
leave  her  so  abruptly,  and  in  such  a  con- 
dition"? My  heart  smote  me.  I  had  wrong- 
ed her — wronged  her  at  the  moment  of 
parting,  and  put  reparation  out  of  my 
power.  Why  had  I  done  so!  Why  did  I 
not  part  with  her  as  a  friend!  If  she  did 
not  love  me,  it  was  not  her  fault,  and  I  had 
no  right  to  abuse  her.  I  had  acted  hasti- 
ly, imprudently,  unjustly.  I  knew  it — I 
felt  it — felt  it  keenly;  and,  O!  what  would 
I  not  have  sacrificed  for  one,  even  one, 
moment  with  her,  to  sue  for  pardon.  Alas! 
alas!  my  reflections  on  my  conduct  had 
come  too  late — too  late. 

Thus  I  thought,  and  thus  I  felt,  while 
time  and  progress  were  alike  unnoted,  un- 
cared  for.  What  cared  I  now  for  time? — 
what  cared  I  now  for  speed]  My  mind 
was  a  hell  of  torture  almost  beyond  endu- 
rance, and  I  only  sought  to  escape  myself, 
but  sought  in  vain. 

"  Passengers  for  the  steamboat,"  were 
the  first  sounds  that  aroused  me  from  a 
painful  revery. 

I  looked  up  with  a  start,  and  lo!  I  was 


OR,  ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


17 


in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  hundreds  were 
round  me.  The  cars  had  ceased  their  mo- 
tion, and  one  destination  was  gained.  At 
first  I  could  not  credit  my  senses.  There 
must  be  some  mistake — we  were  in  the 
wrong  city!  But  I  was  soon  convinced  of 
my  error;  and  found,  alas!  that  all  was  too 
truly, too  coldly  correct;  for  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  I  had  counted  on  a  return 
to  my  native  soil,  and — and — I  will  not 
say  what  else. 

I  roused  my  friend,  who  also  looked 
wonderingly  about  him  as  if  suddenly 
awakened  from  a  dream,  and  heaved  a  long, 
deep  sigh — a  dirge  to  buried  scenes  and 
friends  away.  Mechanically  we  entered  a 
carriage,  were  hurried  to  tlie  boat,  and 
soon  were  gliding  over  the  deep  blue  wa- 
ters of  Long  Island  Sound. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  beheld,  for  the 
first  time,  the  lofty  spires  of  that  great 
Babylon  of  America,  ycleped  New  York. 
What  a  place  of  business,  bustle,  and  con- 
fusion! What  hurrying  to  and  fro!  What 
rushing,  scrambling,  crowding,  each  bent 
on  his  own  selfish  end,  and  caring  nothing 
for  his  neighbor,  but  all  for  his  neighbor's 
purse!  How  cold  the  faces  of  the  citizens 
seem  to  a  stranger!  There  are  no  wel- 
come smiles — no  kind  greetings — all  are 
wrapped  up  in  their  own  pursuits;  and  he 
feels  at  once,  although  surrounded  by  thou- 
sands, that  he  is  now  indeed  alone,  with- 
out a  friend,  save  such  as  can  be  bought. 

On  the  ocean,  on  the  prairie,  or  in  the 
forest,  man  is  not  alone;  he  does  not  feel 
alone;  for  he  is  with  Nature  in  all  her 
wildness — in  all  her  beauty;  and  she  ever 
has  a  voice,  which  reaches  his  inner  heart, 
and,  in  sweet  companionship,  whispers 
him  to  behold  her  wonders,  and  through 
her  look  up  to  the  Author  of  all — her  God 
and  his!  But  in  the  great  city  it  is  dif- 
ferent— vastly  different.  Here  all  is  arti- 
ficial, studied,  and  cold;  and  as  we  gaze 
upon  the  thousands  that  throng  the  streets, 
and  mark  the  selfish  expressions  on  the 
faces  of  each,  we  feel  an  inward  loathing, 
a  disgust  for  mankind,  and  long  to  steal 
away  to  some  quiet  spot  and  commune 
with  our  own  thoughts  in  silence. 

Such  were  my  reflections,  as  the  rum- 
bling vehicle  whirled  me  over  the  pave- 


ments to  that  prince  of  hotels,  (in  name 
and  wealth  at  least)  the  Astor  House. — 
True,  I  had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  a 
city;  but  still  these  matters  had  never 
forced  themselves  so  strongly  upon  my 
mind  as  now.  I  was  astranger,in  a  strange 
city,  and,  with  my  otherwise  misanthropic 
feelings,  I  doubly  felt  them  in  all  their 
force. 

The  window  of  the  apartment  assigned 
me  at  the  Astor  House,  looked  out  upon 
that  world-renowned  thoroughfare,  Broad- 
way. Dinner  over,  I  seated  myself  at  the 
casement  and  gazed  forth.  What  a  world 
in  miniature  was  spread  before  my  eyes! 
What  a  whirlpool  of  confusion  and  excite- 
ment! Before  me,  a  little  to  my  left,  was 
the  Park — its  trees  beautifully  decorated 
with  the  flowers  and  leaves  of  spring,  and 
its  many  winding  walks  thronged  with  hu- 
man beings.  From  out  its  center  rose  the 
City  Hall — the  hall  of  justice.  Along  one 
side  ran  Broadway — along  the  other,  Park 
Row,  but  shooting  oflf  at  an  angle  from  the 
main  thoroughfare  of  the  former — both 
crowded  with  carriages  of  all  descriptions, 
from  the  splendid  vehicle  of  fashion,  with 
its  servants  in  livery,  and  its  silver-trimmed 
harness,  down  to  the  common  dray — crowd 
ed  with  footmen,  from  the  prince  to  tha 
beggar,  all  hurrying  and  jostling  together. 
Here  sauntered  the  lady  and  gentleman  of 
fashion,  robed  in  the  most  costly  apparel 
money  could  procure,  bedecked  with  dia- 
monds and  gold,  sapphire  and  ruby;  there, 
side  by  side,  on  the  same  pavement,  al- 
most touching  them, strolled  the  poor,  for- 
lorn, pale-faced,  hollow-eyed  mendicant, 
partially  clothed  in  filthy  rags,  and  per- 
haps actually  dying  for  a  morsel  of  food. 
Great  Heaven!  what  a  comment  on  hu- 
manity! 

I  have  mentioned  only  the  extremes; 
but  fancy  both  sexes — of  all  grades,  sizes, 
and  nations  between — and  you  have  a  pic- 
ture which  no  city  on  the  American  con- 
tinent save  New  York  can  present. 

The  evening  found  my  friend  and  my- 
self at  the  National  Theatre — then  new, 
splendidly  decorated,  and  in  successful  op- 
eration. It  was  crowded  almost  to  suffo- 
cation with  the  elite  of  the  city.  Round- 
ed arms  and  splendid  busts,  set  off  with 


18 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


jewels — rosy  cheeks,  and  sparkling  eyes, 
were  displayed  on  every  hand,  by  the  be- 
witching light  of  magniticent,  glass-tassel- 
led  chandeliers.  But  of  these  I  took  lit- 
tle note.  My  attention  was  fixed  upon 
the  play.  It  was  that  impassioned  crea- 
tion of  Shakespeai-e,  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
My  mind  was  just  in  a  condition  to  feel 
the  burning  words  of  the  lovers  in  all  their 
force;  and  I  concentrated  my  whole  soul 
upon  it,  listened  every  word,  watched 
every  motion,  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
thing  else.  The  first  and  second  acts 
were  already  over,  and  the  last  scene  of 
the  third,  the  parting  between  the  lovers, 
was  on  the  stage.  A  breathless  silence 
"cigned  around.  Every  eye  v/as  fixed  upon 
the  players — every  head  inclined  a  little 
forward,  to  catch  the  slightest  tones  of  the 
speakers.  Already  had  the  ardent  and  un- 
fortunate Romeo  sighed  the  tender  words: 

"Farewell!     I  will  omit  no  opportunity 
That  may  convey  my  greetings,  love,  to  thee ;" 

and  the  ansv/er  of  Juliet, 

'■■  0,  tiiink'st  thou,  we  shall  ever  meet  again?" 

was  even  trembling  on  her  lips — when, 
suddenly,  to  the  consternation  and  horror 
of  all,  there  arose  the  terrific  cry  of, 

"  Fire!  fire! — the  theatre  is  on  fire!" 

Heavens!  what  a  scene  ensued — and 
what  feelings  came  over  me!  Never  shall 
I  forget  either.  In  a  moment  all  was 
frightful  confusion,  as  each  sought  to  gain 
the  street.  Startling  shrieks,  appalling 
yells,  and  hideous  groans,  resounded  on 
all  sides.  Hundreds,  I  might  say  thou- 
sands, rushed  pell-mell  to  the  doors,  to  es- 
cape the  devouring  element,  which,  already 
lapping  the  combustible  scenery,  was  seen 
shooting  upward  its  lurid  tongues,  and 
heard  hissing,  and  snapping,  and  crackling, 
in  its  rapid  progress  over  the  devoted  build- 
ing. I  grasped  the  arm  of  my  friend,  and 
cried: 

"  Rush,  Charley,  for  your  life!"  and 
sprang  forward. 

The  next  moment  I  felt  myself  seized 
from  behind,  and  the  voice  of  my  friend 
shouted  in  my  ear: 

"  Hold!  Friink — we  must  save  her!" 

"Whom!" 

"  Yonder!     See!  they  have  crowded  her 


back! — and  now — great  God!  she  has  fall- 
en over  into  the  pit!" 

I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the 
finger  of  Iluntly,  and  beheld  a  beautiful 
female,  vainly  struggling  to  reach  the  door. 
As  he  spoke,  a  sudden  rush  forward  crowd- 
ed her  back  to  the  railing  which  divided 
her  from  the  excited  mass  of  beings  in  the 
pit.  One  moment  she  balanced  on  the 
railing,  and  the  next,  with  a  cry  of  terror, 
fell  on  to  the  heads  of  those  below.  At 
any  other  time  she  would  have  been  cared 
for;  but  now  all  were  wild  with  terror,  and 
thought  only  of  themselves;  and  instead 
of  seeking  to  aid,  they  allowed  her  to  sink 
under  their  feet.  Save  my  friend  and  I, 
no  one  seemed  to  heed  her.  With  a  cry 
of  horror,  I  leaped  forward  to  rescue  her 
from  a  horrible  death.  But  my  friend  was 
already  before  me.  One  bound,  and  Charles 
Huntly  was  among  the  wedged  mass  be- 
low, and  exerting  all  his  strength  to  reach 
the  prostrate  form  of  the  lady,  who  v.v'as 
now  being  trod  to  death  under  the  feet  of 
the  rushing  multitude.  I  would  have  sprang 
over  the  railing  myself,  but  I  saw  it  would 
be  useless;  one  was  better  than  two;  and 
I  paused  and  watched  the  progress  of  my 
friend  with  an  anxiety  belter  imagined 
than  described. 

So  dense  was  the  mass,  so  closely  wedg- 
ed, that  for  a  time  all  the  efforts  of  Hunt- 
ly to  reach  the  unfortunate  creature  were 
vain;  while  the  glaring  light,  and  the 
roar  of  the  flames,  as  they  eagerly  leaped 
forward  to  the  dome  over  head,  rendered  the 
scene  truly  dismal  and  awful. 

At  length  the  crowd  grev>'  thinner,  as 
it  poured  through  the  open  doorway;  and 
renewing  his  exertions,  my  friend  shortly 
gained  the  side  of  the  unknown.  He 
stooped  down  to  raise  her,  and  I  trembled 
for  his  safety,  for  I  saw  numbers  fairly 
pressing  upon  him.  With  a  Herculean 
eftbrt,  that  must  have  exhausted  all  his 
animal  powers,  I  beheld  him  rise  to  his 
feet,  with  the  fair  unknown  seemingly  life- 
less in  his  arms.  I  ultered  a  cry  of  joy, 
as  he  staggered  towards  me  with  his  bur- 
then. 

"  Qiuck!  quick!  this  way — give  her 
here!"  I  shouted,  bending  over  the  railing 
and  extending  my  arms  towards  her. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


IS 


Huntly  staggered  forward,  and  the  next 
moment  my  grasp  was  upon  her,  and  she 
was  in  my  arms. 

"Fly!  Frank— fast— for  God's  sake! 
and  give  her  air!"  gasped  Huntly,  in  a  faint, 
exhausted  tone. 

J  cast  one  glance  at  her  pale,  lovely  fea- 
tures, on  which  were  a  few  spots  of  blood, 
from  a  contusion  on  the  head,  and  then 
darted  over  the  benches  to  the  door,  bid- 
ding my  friend  ioUow,  but  looking  not 
behind. 

The  boxes  were  now  empty,  and  the 
(^oors  but  slightly  blocked,  so  that  I  had 
little  difficulty,  to  use  a  stage  expression, 
in  making  my  exit.  The  street,  however, 
was  crowded  with  those  just  escaped,  and 
others  attracted  hither  by  the  alarm  of 
fire.  All  was  excitement  and  dismay. — 
Parents  were  rushing  to  and  fro,  seeking 
their  children — children  their  parents; 
wives  and  maidens  their  husbands  and  lov- 
ers, and  vice  versa. 

I  pushed  my  way  through  the  the  crowd 
as  best  I  could,  with  my  lovely  burthen  in 
my  arms,  and  at  length  reached  the  oppo- 
site side-walk,  where  I  paused  to  rest,  and, 
if  possible,  to  restore  the  fair  one  to  con- 
sciousness. As  I  began  chafing  her  tem- 
ples, I  heard  a  female  voice  shriek,  in 
agonizing  tones: 

"  Good  God!  will  no  one  save  my  child 
— my  only  child — my  daughter — the  idol 
of  my  heart!" 

I  looked  around  me,  and  beheld,  by  the 
light  of  the  burning  building,  a  middle 
aged  female,  richly  clad,  only  a  few  paces 
distant,  violently  wringing  her  hands,  in 
mental  agony,  and  looking  imploringly, 
first  at  the  already  trembling  structure, 
and  then  into  the  faces  of  the  by-standers, 
as  if  in  search  of  an  answer  to  her  heart- 
rending appeal. 

"Oh  God!  oh  God!  save  her!  save  her! — 
she  must  not,  shall  not  die!  I  will  give  a 
thousand  dollars  for  her  life!" 

A  thought  struck  me.  Perhaps  she  was 
the  mother  of  the  senseless  being  I  held; 
and  instantly  I  raised  her  in  my  arms  and 
darted  forward. 

"  Is  this  your  daughter,  ladyl"  I  cried, 
as  I  came  up. 

She  looked  wildly  about  her — one  pain- 


ful glance-— and  then,  with  a  shriek,  s'prang 
to  and  threw  her  arms  around  the  fair  crea- 
lure's  neck,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  God!  I  thank  thee!"  were  the  first  ar- 
ticulate words  from  her  now  quivering  lips. 
"I  have  got  my  daughter  again!"  and 
snatching  her  from  my  arms,  she  pressec\ 
kiss  after  kiss  upon  her  lips,  with  all  the 
wild,  passionate  fondness  of  a  mother.—- 
"  Ha!  is  she  dead!"  she  cried,  with  a  loolv 
of  horror,  appealing  to  me. 

"  Only  fainted,"  was  my  reply,  made  at 
a  venture,  for  I  dared  not  confirm  my  owa 
fears. 

"Yes!  yes!  God  be  praised! — I  see!  I 
see!  She  is  returning  to  consciousness. 
But  this  blood — this  wound!" 
"  A  slight  fall,"  I  answered. 
"  And  you,  sir — you!  I  promised  a  thou- 
sand dollars.  Here  is  part,  and  my  card. 
Call  to-night,  or  to-morrow,  at (I  fail- 
ed to  catch  the  name)  and  the  balance 
shall  be  yours." 

"  I  did  not  save  her  for  money;  in  fact, 
I  did  not  save  her  at  all — it  w^as  my  friend," 
I  replied,  taking  from  her  extended  hand 
the  card,  but  refusing  the  purse  which  it 
also  held. 

"  And  where  is  your  friend!"  she  asked, 
breathlessly. 

Heavens!  what  a  shock  her  words  pro- 
duced! Where  was  my  friend, indeed!  I 
looked  hurriedly  around,  among  the  sway- 
ing multitude,  but  saw  nothing  of  Charles 
Huntly.  A  terrible  thought  seized  me. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  made  his  escape!  I 
cast  one  glance  at  the  burning  pile,  and, 
to  my  consternation,  beheld  the  flames  al- 
ready bursting  from  the  roof.  Had  he  es- 
caped^— and  if  not — if  not! — Great  God, 
what  a  thought!  I  waited  to  say,  to  hear 
no  more,  but  turned  and  rushed  into  the 
swaying  mass,  shouting  the  name  of  my 
schoolmate.  No  answer  was  returned.  I 
shouted  louder — but  still  heard  not  his  well 
known  voice.  Great  God!  what  feelings 
came  over  me! — pen  cannotdescribe  them. 
Onward,  onward,  still  I  pressed  onward, 
and  shouted  at  every  step — but,  alas!  no 
answer. 

At  length  I  reached  the  door  of  the  the- 
atre   leading  to  the  boxes      It  was  filled 
'  with    smoke,   passing    outward,    through 


20 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


which  I  could  catch  glimpses  of  the  de- 
vouring flames,  and  hear  their  awful  roar. 
One  pause — an  instant  only — and  witli  his 
name  upon  my  lips,  I  darted  into  the  shaK'- 
ing  building.  I  gained  the  boxes,  and 
found  the  heat  of  the  flames  almost  un- 
bearable. They  had  already  reached  the 
railing  nearest  the  stage,  and  over  head 
had  eaten  through  the  roof,  from  which 
burning  cinders  were  dropping  upon  the 
blazing  benches  in  the  pit.  The  smoke 
was  stifling,  and  I  could  scarcely  breathe. 
I  looked  down  where  I  had  last  seen  my 
friend,  and  beheld  a  dark  object  on  the 
floor.  I  called  Huntly  by  name  in  a  voice 
of  agony.  Methought  the  object  stirred, 
and  I  fancied  I  heard  a  groan.  The  next 
moment  I  was  in  the  pit,  bending  over  the 
object.  Gracious  God!  it  was  Huntly! — 
From  some  cause  he  had  not  been  able  to 
escape.  Instantly  I  raised  him  in  my 
arms,  and,  with  a  tremendous  effort,  threw 
him  into  the  boxes.  I  attempted  to  fol- 
low, but  failed.  The  smoke  was  proving 
too  much  for  me,  and  the  heat  becoming 
intense.  Again  I  tried,  with  like  success. 
I  began  to  feel  dizzy,  and  faint,  and  thought 
I  was  perishing.  I  sank  back  and  looked 
up  at  the  roof.  I  could  see  it  trembling. 
A  few  moments,  and  it  would  be  upon  me. 
God  of  Heaven!  what  a  death! 

At  this  moment  of  despair,  I  felt  a  cur- 
rent of  air  rushing  in  upon  me.  It  reviv- 
ed me,  and  I  made  a  third  attempt  to  clam- 
ber into  the  boxes.  Joy!  joy!  T  succeed- 
ed. I  caught  hold  of  Charles,  and,  with 
my  remaining  strength,  dragged  him  to  the 
door,  and  into  the  open  air.  Some  five  or 
six  persons  now  rushed  to  my  assistance, 
and  in  another  moment  I  had  gained  the 
oppnsitp  side  of  the  street.  As  I  did  so, 
I  heard  a  thundering  noise  behind  me.  I 
turned  quickly  round,  and  no  pen  can  de- 
scribe my  feelings  when  I  understood  the 
cause.  The  roof  of  the  building  had  fall- 
en in,  and  bright  sheets  of  flame,  and 
burning  cinders,  were  shooting  upward  on 
the  dark  pall  of  the  arching  heavens.  I 
had  just  escaped  with  my  life;  and  if  ever 
I  uttered  a  prayer  of  sincere  gratitude  to 
the  Author  of  my  being,  it  was  then. 

As  I  stood  gazing  upon  the  remainder 
of  the  structure,  I  saw  the  walls  totter; 


and  ere  I  had  time  to  move  from  the  spot, 
the  front  wall  went  down,  with  a  thunder- 
ing sound,  and  lay  a  pile  of  smoking  ruins 
— a  part  falling  in,  and  a  part  outward. 
The  heat  was  now  excessive;  and  as  I 
sought  to  bear  my  unconscious  friend  fur- 
ther from  the  fire,  the  side  walls  plunged 
inward,  leaving  only  the  back  wall  stand- 
ing. This  now  seemed  to  waver — totter — 
and  then,  great  Heaven!  it  fell  outward, 
upon  an  adjoiningbuilding,  crushing  in  the 
roof,  and,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  killing 
one  of  its  inmates  almost  instantly. 

By  this  time  Huntly  had  begun  to  re- 
vive, and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  perfect- 
ly restored — the  smoke  and  his  exertions, 
only,  having  overcome  him.  He  stared 
around  him  for  a  moment  in  wonder,  and 
then  seemed  to  comprehend  all.  Grasp- 
ing my  hand,  with  a  nervous  pressure,  he 
exclaimed: 

"Thank  God!  we  are  all  saved;  though 
I  thought  all  was  over  with  me.  I  see, 
dear  Frank,  I  owe  all  to  you.  But  the 
lady,  Frankl" 

"  I  left  her  safe  in  the  arms  of  her  mo- 
ther." 

"  Thank  God,  again,  for  that!  But  who 
is  shel  and  where  does  she  live?"  and  I 
felt  the  grasp  of  Charles  tighten  upon  my 
arm. 

"  I  know  neither;  but  I  have  her  mo- 
ther's card  here." 

"  Quick!  quick!  give  it  me!"  cried 
Huntly,  with  an  impatience  that  surprised 
me. 

But  I  was  mistaken;  I  had  not  the  card; 
it  was  lost;  and  with  it,  all  clue  to  the 
persons  in  question.  With  an  expression 
of  deep  and  painful  disappointment,  my 
friend  turned  away. 

"But  we  may  yet  find  them,"  I  said; 
"  they  were  here  a  few  minutes  since." 
"  Where,  Frank— where?" 
"Yonder;"  and  I  hastened  to  the  spot 
where  I  had  left  them;  but  to  the  disap- 
pointment of  myself,  as  well  as  Huntly, 
they  were  gone. 

I  made  inquiries  of  all  around,  but  no- 
body had  seen,  or  knew  any  thing  of 
them. 

"  Always  my  luck,  Frank,"  said  Huntly, 
with  a  sigh;  and  jumping  into  a  hack,  we 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


21 


"were  shortly  set  down  at  the  steps  of  the 
-Aster. 

That  night  I  dreamed  of  fire — of  res- 
cuing Lilian  Huntly  from  the  flames. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  were  once 
more  upon  our  long  journey — swiftly  speed- 
ing toward  the  far,   far  West. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    GHIO — THE    HIBERNIAN—ARRIVAL     IN 

CINCINNATI — A  FIRE A  FIGHT NARROW 

ESCAPE — THE  JOURNEY  RESUMED. 

It  was  a  calm,  beautiful  day,  that  found 
myself  and  friend  on  the  hurricane  deck 
of  a  magnificent  steamer,  and  gliding 
swiftly  down  the  calm,  silvery  waters  of 
that  winding,  lovely,  and  romantic  stream, 
the  Ohio,  or  La  Belle  Riviere.  We  had 
passed  through  Philadelphia,  Baltimore, 
and  Pittsburgh,  without  stopping,  and  were 
now  speeding  over  the  waters  of  this  river 
on  our  journey  to  the  Far  West.  Never 
had  I  seen  a  stream  before  so  fascinating 
in  all  its  attractions.  On  my  right  was 
the  State  of  Ohio — on  my  left,  those  of 
Virginia  and  Kentucky;  and  on  either 
hand,  beautiful  villages,  farms,  and  pleasure 
grounds,  with  tree,  blade,  and^flower  in  the 
delightful  bloom  of  a  pleasant  spring. — 
Here  was  a  hill  clothed  with  trees,  reach- 
ing even  to,  overhanging,  and  mirroring 
their  green  forms  in  the  glassy  tide;  there 
a  smiling  plain,  stretching  gracefully  away 
from  the  river's  bank,  teeming  with  the 
growing  products  of  the  husbandman; 
while  yonder  a  beautiful  lawn,  anon  a  vil- 
lage, or  a  pleasant  farm  house — rendered 
the  whole  scene  picturesque  and  lovely  be- 
yond description. 

The  longer  I  gazed,  the  more  I  felt  my 
spirits  revive,  until  I  began  to  resume 
something  of  the  joyousness  of  by-gone 
days.  A  similar  efiect  I  could  perceive 
was  beginning  to  tell  upon  my  friend. — 
The  first  keen  pang  of  leaving  home  was 
becoming  deadened.  We  were  now  in  a 
a  part  of  the  world  abounding  with  every 
thing  delightful,  and  felt  that  our  adven- 
tures had  really  begun.     We  thought  of 


home  and  friends  occasionally,  it  is  true; 
but  then  it  was  only  occasionally;  and 
mingling  with  our  feelings,  were  thoughts 
of  the  present  and  glorious  anticipations 
for  the  future.  We  were  strong,  in  the 
very  prime  of  life,  and  bound  on  a  journey 
of  adventure,  where  every  thing  being  en- 
tirely new,  was  calculated  to  withdraw  our 
minds  from  the  scenes  we  had  bid  adieu. 
The  future  is  always  bright  to  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  young  and  inexperienced; 
and  we  looked  forward  with  delight  to 
scenes  on  and  beyond  the  broad  and  mighty 
prairies  of  the  west. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  at  length, 
with  something  of  his  former  light-hearted 
air,  "  what  think  you  of  this]" 

"  It  is  superlatively  beautiful,"  I  exclaim- 
ed, with  enthusiasm. 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,  Frank,"  he  re- 
plied; "  but  then  this  will  all  sink  into  in- 
significance, when  we  come  to  behold 
what  lies  beyond  the  bounds  of  civiliza- 
tion. O,  I  am  in  raptures  with  my  jour- 
ney. What  a  beautiful  land  is  this  west! 
I  do  not  wonder  that  emigration  sets  hith- 
ward,  for  it  seems  the  Paradise  of  earth." 

"Ay,  it  does  indeed." 

"  But  I  say,  Frank,  there  is  one  thing 
we  have  overlooked." 

"  Well,  Charley,  what  is  it?" 

"  Why,  we  must  engage  a  servant  to 
look  alter  our  baggage;  and  so  let  us  em- 
ploy one  with  whom  we  can  have  a  little 
sport.     I  am  dying  for  a  hearty  laugh." 

"  But  that  may  not  be  so  easy  to  do," 
said  I. 

"Pshaw!  don't  you  believe  a  word  of 
it.  Now  I  have  been  standing  here  for 
the  last  ten  minutes,  laying  my  plans,  and 
if  you  have  no  objection,  I  will  try  and 
put  them  in  operation." 

"  None  at  all,"  I  returned;  "  but  let  me 
hear  them  first." 

"Do  yousee  that  fellow  yonder,  Frank  I" 
pointing  to  a  rather  green-looking  speci- 
men of  the  Emerald  Isle. 

"  I  do.     WelU" 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  try  him;  so  come 
along  and  see  the  result;"  and  with  this 
Huntly  strode  to  the  stern  of  the  boa^, 
where  the  son  of  Erin  was  standing,  with 
his   arms    crossed   en    his   back,   gazing 


32 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


around  him  with  an  air  of  wondering  cu- 
riosity. 

He  was  a  rare  specimen  of  a  Paddy,  and 
bore  all  the  marks  of  fresh  importation 
His  coat  was  a  wool-mixed  gray,  with 
bright  metal  buttons,  and  very  short  skirts. 
His  pants  were  made  of  a  grconish  fus- 
tian, the  upper  portion  of  which  barely 
united  with  a  very  short  vest.  Heavy 
brogans  encased  his  feet,  and  a  hat,  with 
a  rim  of  an  inch  in  width',  all  the  worse 
for  wear,  beneath  which  his  sandy  hair 
came  low  upon  his  brow,  covered  his  head. 
A  large  mouth,  pug  nose,  ruddy  cheeks, 
and  bright,  cunning  gray  eyes,  denoted 
him  daring,  witty,  and  humorous.  In  fact, 
he  was  Paddy  throughout,  dress  and  all; 
and  being  a  strong,  hearty  fellow,  was  just 
the  one  to  suit  us. 

"  Well,  Pat,  a  handsome  country  this," 
said  Huntly,  in  a  familiar  tone,  as  he  came 
up  to  him. 

"  Troth,  now,  ye  may  well  say  that  same, 
your  honor,  barring  the  name  o'  Pat,  which 
isn't  mine  at  all,  at  all,  but  simply  Teddy 
O'Lagherty  jist,"  replied  the  Hibernian, 
with  great  volubility,  in  the  real,  rolling 
Irish  brogue,  touching  his  hat  respect- 
fully. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Teddy — though  I  suppose 
it  makes  little  difference  to  you  what  name 
you  get!" 

"  Difference,  is  it,  ye're  spaking  of?  To 
the  divil  wid  ye  now,  for  taking  me  for  a 
spalpeen  I  D'ye  be  afther  thinking,  now,  I 
don't  want  the  name  that  me  mother's 
grandfather,  that  was  a  relation  to  her, 
barring  that  he  wasn't  her  grandfather  at 
all,  but  only  her  daddy,  give  me!" 

"  O,  well  then,  never  mind — I  will  call 
yoa  Teddy,"  said  Charles,  laughing,  and 
winking  at  rne.  "  But  I  say,  Teddy,  where 
are  you  bound!" 

"Bound,  is  it,  ye're  asking]  Och!  I'm 
not  bound  at  all,  at  all — but  frae  as  the 
biped  of  a  chap  ye  calls  a  toad,  that  St. 
Pathrick  (blissings  on  his  name!)  kicked 
out  o'  ould  Ireland,  for  a  baastly  sarpent, 
an'  it  was." 

"  Did  St.  Patrick  wear  brogans  when 
he  kicked  the  toad  so  far]"  asked  Huntly, 
oyavely. 

"Brogans!"  cried  Teddy,  with  a  comi 


cal  look  of  surprise,  that  any  one  should 
be  so  ignorant:  "  Brogans,  ye  spalpeen! — 
beg  pardon!  your  honor  I  mane;  why  he 
wa.s  a  saint,  a  howly  saint,  ye  divil — beg 
pardon!  your  honor — and  didn't  naad  the 
hilp  of  kivering  to  kaap  the  crathurs  from 
biting  him." 

"  O,  yes,"  said  Huntly,  feigning  to  re- 
collect; "  I  remember  now,  he  was  a  saint; 
and  of  course  he  could  kick  any  body, 
or  any  thing,  whether  bare-footed  or  shod." 
"  He  could  do  that  same — could  St. 
Pathrick,"  replied  the  Irishman;  "  and  as 
asy  too,  as  your  honor  could  be  afther 
swollering  a  paaled  praty,  barring  the 
choking  if  yees  didn't  chaw  it  hand- 
somely." 

"  A  fellow  of  infinite  jest;  I  like  him 
much."  said  Huntly  to  me,  aside,  with  a 
smile.     "  I  must  secure  him — eh,  Frank!" 

"  Certainly,  by  all  means,"  I  replied,  in 
the  same  manner;  "  for  his  like  we  ne'er 
may  see  again." 

'•  But  if  you  are  not  bound,  Teddy,"  con- 
tinued Huntly,  addressing  the  Irishman, 
"pray  tell  me  whither  you  are  going." 

"  Faith,  now,  ye've  jist  axed  a  question, 
which  meself  has  put  to  Teddy  O'Lagher- 
ty more'n  fifty  times,  widout  gitting  a  sin- 
gle straight  answer." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  are,  like  us,  on  a 
journey  of  adventure." 

"  It's  like  I  may  be,  for  a  divil  of  a  thing 
else  me  knows  about  it." 

"  Would  you  like  to  get  employment?" 

"  Would  a  pig  like  to  ate  his  suppher, 
or  a  nager  like  to  stael!"  answered  Teddy, 
promptly. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  engage  with  us 
now!" 

"  Troth,  I've  done  many  a  worse  thing, 
I'm  thinking,  your  honor." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  Teddy." 

"  But  what  d'ye  want  of  me,  your  hon- 
or! and  where  to  go? — for  I'm  liking  tra- 
vel, if  it's  all  the  same  to  yees." 

"  So  much  the  better,  for  we  are  bound 
on  a  long  journey ;"  and  Charles  proceeded 
to  explain  our  intentions,  and  in  what  ca- 
pacity the  other  would  be  wanted. 

"  Och!"  cried  Teddy,  jumping  up  and 
cracking  his  heels  with  delight,  to  our 
great  amusements  "  it's  that  same  I'd  be 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


23 


afther  saaking,  if  ye'd  a  axed  me  what  I  j 
wanted." 

"  Think  you  can  shoot  Indians,  eh!  Ted- 
dy!" 

"  Shoot,  is  it?  Faith,  I  can  shoot  any 
thing  that  flies  on  two  legs.  Although  I 
sez  it  meself,  what  shouldn't,  hut  let  me 
mother  for  me,  I'm  the  greatest  shooter  ye 
iver  knew,  I  is.*' 

"Indeed!  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Teddy; 
for  I  presume  we  shall  have  plenty  of 
shooting  to  do.  But  what  did  you  ever 
kill,  Teddy !" 

"Killjisitl  Troth,  now,  ye're  afther 
heading  me  wid  your  cunning." 

"  Well,  then,  what  did  you  shoot?" 

"A  two-legged  bir-r-d,  your  honor." 

"  Well,  you  killed  it  of  course!" 

"Killed  it!  Agh!  nov/  ye're  talking. 
Faith,  it  wouldn't  die.  I  shot  it  as  plain 
as  daylight,  right  fornenst  the  back-bone 
of  its  spine;  and  would  ye  belave  it,  divil 
of  a  shot  touched  it  at  all,  at  all — the  ugly 
baast  that  it  was." 

"  Well,  well,  Teddy,  I  think  you  will 
do,"  said  Huntly,  laughing;  and  forthwith 
he  proceeded  to  close  the  bargain  with  the 
Irishman. 

Our  trip  proved  very  delightful,  and 
in  due  time  we  arrived  at  Cincinnati, 
where  it  was  our  design  to  spend  at  least 
a  day.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  when 
we  rounded  the  first  bend  above  the  city, 
and  beheld  the  spires  of  this  great  west- 
ern mart  glittering  in  the  sunbeams.  The 
levee  we  fiund  lined  with  boats,  and 
crowded  with  drays,  hacks,  and  merchan- 
dise; and  every  thing  bespoke  the  life 
and  briskness  of  immense  trade.  Ta- 
king rooms  at  the  Broadway  Hotel,  we 
sauntered  forth  to  view  the  city,  and  even- 
ing iound  us  well  pleased  with  our  day's 
ramble. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  the  night  of 
our  arrival,  that,  having  returned  from  a 
concert,  we  we  were  preparing  to  retire  to 
rest,  when  the  alarm  of  fire,  accompanied 
by  a  bright  light,  which  shone  in  at  our 
windows,  attracted  our  attention. 

"  Ha!  here  is  another  adventure^  Char- 
ley," I  exclaimed,  replacing  my  coat,  which 
I  was  in  the  act  of  taking  from  my  shoul- 
ders.    "  Come,  once  more  forth,  and  let  us 


see  what  we  can  discover  that  ia  new  and 
startling — for  to-morrow,  you  know,  we 
leave." 

"  Not  to-night,  Frank,"  answered  Huni- 
!y,  yawning  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  I'- 
faith,  man,  I've  seen  enough  of  fire  to  last 
me  for  a  long  time;  and  O,  (yawning 
again)  I  am  so  sleepy." 

"  Then  I  will  go  alone." 

"Well,  go;  for  myself,  I'll  to-bed  and 
dream  about  it.  But  I  say,  Frank,"  pursued 
Huntly,  as  I  vras  on  the  point  of  quitting 
the  room,  "  have  you  secured  your  pistols 
about  you!" 

"No." 

"  You  had  better." 

"Pshaw!  I  do  not  want  them:  I  am 
not  going  to  fight." 

"  Nevertheless  you  had  better  go  armed, 
in  a  strange  place  like  this." 

"  Nonsense,"  I  replied,  closing  the  door, 
and  hurrying  down  a  flight  of  stairs,  and 
into  the  street. 

A  thought  struck  me,  that  I  would  take 
Teddy  along;  but  upon  second  considera- 
tion I  resolved  to  go  alone. 

There  was  but  little  difficulty  in  finding 
the  fire,  for  a  bright  flame,  shooting  up- 
ward on  the  dark  canopy  above,  guided  me 
to  it.  Passing  up  Broadway  to  Sixth 
street,  I  turned  down  some  four  or  five 
squares,  and  discovered  the  fire  to  proceed 
from  an  old,  two-story  wooden  building, 
which  had  been  tenanted  by  two  or  three 
families  of  the  poorer  class.  At  the  mo- 
ment when  I  arrived,  four  engines  were  in 
active  play,  and  some  two  or  three  others 
preparing  to  join  them.  The  water  v.'as 
not  thrown  upon  the  burning  building — for 
that  was  already  too  far  gone — but  upon 
one  or  two  others  that  nearly  joined,  which 
were  smoking  from  the  heat.  Many 
household  articles  had  been  thrown  into 
the  street,  and  these  were  surrounded  by 
the  fire-watch;  while  an  Irishman  and  his 
wife,  with  a  daughter  of  sixteen,  were  run- 
ning to  and  fro,  and  lamenting  in  piteous 
tones  the  loss  of  their  home  and  property. 

"Och!  howly  mither  of  Mary!  was  the 
like  on't  iver  saan!"  cried  the  matron, 
some  forty-five  years  of  age,  whose  tidy 
dress  bespoke  her  a  rather  thrifty  house- 
wife. 


S4 


THE  PRAIRIE    FLOWER; 


"  Niver,  since  the  flood,"  blubbered  her 
husband,  dolefully. 

"  What  an  invintion  is  fire!"  again  cried 
the  mother. 

"  Tirrible  crathur  it  is,"  rejoined  the 
daughter. 

"  Och,  honey,  don't  be  deaparing  now!" 
said  a  voice,  which  I  fancied  I  recognized; 
and  turning  toward  the  speaker,  to  my  as- 
tonishment I  beheld  Teddy,  in  the  laudible 
act  of  consoling  the  afflicted  damsel. 

"  Teddy!"  I  shouted. 

"  Here,  your  honor,"  returned  the  Hi- 
bernian, looking  around  in  surprise,  and 
advancing  to  me  with  an  abashed  look. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Teddyl"  I 
continued.  "  I  thought  you  were  at  the 
hotel,  and  asleep." 

"  Faith!  and  it's  like  I  thought  the  same 
of  your  honor,  barring  the  slaap,"  rejoined 
the  Irishman,  scratching  his  head.  "  I 
seed  the  fire,  your  honor,  and  I  thought  as 
maybe  there'd  be  some  females  that'd 
naad  consoling;  and  so,  ye  see,  I  gathered 
meself  hilherward,  as  fast  as  me  trotters 
would  let  me." 

"And  so  you  make  it  your  business  to 
console  females,  eh]"  I  asked,  with  a  smile 
which  I  could  not  repress. 

"  Faith,  now,"  answered  Teddy,  "  if  it's 
all  the  same  to  yourself,  your  honor,  I'm  a 
female  man,  barring  the  dress  they  wears." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,  laughing  outright 
in  spite  of  myself,  "  go  on  in  your  good 
work — but  mind  you  are  at  your  post  be- 
times in  the  morning,  or  you  will  be  left 
behind." 

"  It's  meself  that'll  not  forgit  that 
same,"  answered  the  other,  as  he  turned 
away  to  rejoin  the  party  in  distress,  and 
add  his  consolation.  , 

At  this  moment  I  felt  myself  rwdely 
jostled  from  behind,  and,  turning  quickly  I 
round, found  myself  hemmed  in  by  a  crowd, 
in  which  two  men  were  fighting.  I  en-  j 
deavored  to  escape,  and,  in  doing  so,  acci-  j 
dentally  trod  on  the  foot  of  a  stranger,! 
who  turned  furiously  upon  me,  with,  I 

"  What  in  (uttering  an  oath)  do 

you  meanl"  I 

"  An  accident,"  said  I,  apologetically,     j 

"  You're  a  liar!"  he  rejoined;  "  you  did  ; 
it  a  purpoie."  I 


I  never  was  remarkable  for  prudence  at 
any  time,  or  I  should  have  been  more  cau- 
tious on  the  present  occasion.  But  the 
insulting  words  of  the  stranger  made  my 
young  blood  boil,  until  I  felt  its  heat  in 
my  face.  Without  regard  to  consequences 
and  ere  the  words  had  fairly  escaped  his 
lips,  I  struck  him  a  blow  in  the  face,  so 
violent  that  he  fell  back  upon  the  ground. 

"  Another  fight!"  cried  a  dozen  voices 
at  once:     "Another  fight!  hurrah!" 

In  a  moment  I  regretted  what  I  had 
done,  but  it  was  too  late.  I  would  have 
escaped,  but  the  crowd  had  now  formed 
around  me  so  dense,  that  escape  was  im- 
possible. Besides,  my  antagonist,  regain- 
ing his  feet,  his  face  covered  with  blood, 
was  now  advancing  upon  me  furiously. — 
There  was  no  alternative;  and  watching 
my  opportunity  as  he  came  up,  I  dexter- 
ously planted  the  second  blow  exactly 
where  I  had  the  first,  and  down  he  went 
again. 

"  A  trump,  by !"     "  Give  it  to  him, 

stranger!"  "  He's  a  few!"  were  some  of 
the  expressions  which  greeted  me  from 
the  delighted  by-standers. 

But  I  had  short  time  to  enjoy  my  tri- 
umph— if  such  a  display  of  animal  powers 
may  be  termed  a  triumph — for  the  next 
moment  I  beheld  my  adversary  again  ap- 
proaching, but  more  warily  than  before, 
and  evidently  better  prepared  for  the  com- 
bat. I  was  not  considered  a  bad  pugilist 
for  one  of  my  age,  nor  did  I  in  general  fear 
one  of  my  race;  but  as  I  gazed  upon  my 
advancing  foe,  I  will  be  frank  to  own  that 
I  trembled  for  the  result.  He  was  a  pow- 
erfully built  man,  six  feet  in  stature, 
had  a  tremendous  arm,  and  an  eye  that 
would  quail  before  nothing  mortal. 

"  By !  youHg  chap,"  he  exclaimed, 

as  he  came  up,  "you've  done  what  nobody 
else  has  of  latter  years.  Take  that,  and 
see  how  you'll  like  it;"  and  with  the  word 
he  threw  all  his  strength  into  a  Wow,  that 
fell  like  a  sledge  hammer. 

I  saw  it,  and  prepared  to  ward  it.  I  did 
so,  partially,  but  its  force  broke  my  guard, 
and  his  double-jointed  fist  alighting  upon 
my  head,  staggered  me  back  and  brought 
me  to  my  knees.  With  all  the  suppleness 
I  was  master  of,  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  only 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


to  receive  another  blow,  which  laid  me  out 
upon  the  flinty  pavement.  For  a  moment 
I  was  stunned  and  confused;  but  regain- 
ing my  senses  and  feet,  I  prepared  to  re- 
new the  contest. 

•'  I  say,  stranger,"  said  my  antagonist, 
motioning  his  hand  for  a  parley,  "  you're 
good  blood,  but  youhaint  got  quite  enough 
of  the  metal  to  cope  with  me.  You're 
only  a  boy  yit,  and  so  just  consider  your- 
self licked,  and  go  home,  afore  I  git  can- 
tankerous and  hurt  you  a  few." 

But  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  take  his 
advice.  True,  I  was  bruised  and  fatigued, 
and  should  have  rested  satisfied  to  let  the 
affair  end  thus.  But  my  worst  passions 
had  now  got  the  better  of  my  reasoning 
powers.  I  fancied  I  had  been  insulted, 
disgraced,  and  that  nothing  but  victory  or 
death  could  remove  the  stigma.  I  saw 
some  of  the  spectators  smiie,  and  some 
look  pityingly  upon  me,  and  this  decided 
my  course  of  action.  My  temper  rose, 
my  eyes  flashed,  and  my  cheeks  burned,  as 


and  clung  there  with  the  tenacity  of  a 
drowning  man  to  a  rope.  He  made  a  des- 
perate effort  to  bring  me  under,  but  still  I 
maintained  my  position.  The  force  of  my 
grasp  now  began  to  tell  upon  him.  He 
strangled,  and  I  could  sensibly  perceive  he 
was  growing  weaker.  At  length,  just  as 
I  was  about  to  relax  my  hold,  for  fear  of 
choking  him  to  death,  he  suddenly  threw 
up  one  hand,  hurried  it  in  my  hair,  twined 
a  long  lock  around  his  finger,  and  the  next 
moment  placed  his  thumb  to  my  eye,  with 
a  force  that  seemed  to  start  the  ball  from 
its  socket. 

Great  Heaven!  what  a  feeling  of  horror 
came  over  me!  I  was  about  to  lose  an 
eye — be  disfigured  for  life.  Death,  I  fan- 
cied, was  preferable  to  this;  and  instantly 
releasing  his  throat,  I  seized  his  hand  with 
both  of  mine.  This  was  exactly  what  he 
desired;  and  the  next  moment  I  found  my- 
self whirled  violently  upon  my  back  un 
the  rough  pavement,  and  my  antagonist 
uppermost.     1  attempted   to    recover  my 


I  thought  of  the  insulting  words  of  the  i  former  advantage,  but  in  v-iln.     My  adver- 


other. 

"  Some  men  live  by  bullying,"  I  replied, 
pointedly;  "  and  I  suppose  you  are  one  of 
them;  if  not,  you  will  keep  your  advice 
till  one  of  us  is  the  victor." 

My  opponent  looked  upon  me  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  surprise  and  rage. 

"  Fool!"  he  cried, "  do  you  dare  me  again 

to  the  fightl     By !  I'll  whip  you  this 

time  or  die!" 

"  Make  your  words  good,"  I  retorted, 
springing  forward,  and  pretending  to  aim 
a  blow  at  his  head. 

He  prepared  to  ward  it,  and,  in  doing  so, 
left  his  abdomen  unguarded.  He  saw  his 
mistake,  but  too  late  to  retrieve  it;  for 
instead  of  striking  with  my  fist,  I  only 
made  a  feint,  and  doubling  with  great  dex- 
terity, took  him  with  my  head  just  below 
the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  hurled  him 
over  backwards  upon  the  ground.  He 
threw  out  his  hand,  caught  me  as  he  fell, 
and  drew  me  upon  him. 

Now  came  the  contest  in  earnest.  I 
had  a  slight  advantage  in  being  uppermost; 
but  how  long  it  would  last  was  doubtful; 
for  throwing  his  arms  around,  he  strove 
to  turn  me 


sary  was  by  far  too  powerful  a  man. — 
Grasping  my  throat  with  one  hand,  with 
such  a  pressure  that  every  thing  began  to 
grow  dark,  he  partly  raised  himself,  plant- 
ed a  knee  upon  my  breast,  and  with  the 
other  hand  drew  a  long  knife.  I  just  caught 
a  glimmer  of  the  blade,  as  he  raised  it  to 
give  me  a  fatal  stab;  but  I  was  too  ex- 
hausted and  overmastered  to  make  any  re- 
sistance; and  I  closed  my  eyes  in  despair, 
and  felt  that  all  was  over. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  voice  of  Teddy, 
shouting: 

"  To  the  divil  wid  ye,  now,  for  a  blath- 
ering spalpeen,  that  ye  is !"  and  at  the  same 
moment  I  felt  the  grasp  of  my  opponent 
leave  my  throat,  and  his  weight  my 
body. 

With  my  remaining  strength  I  rose 
to  a  sitting  posture,  and  saw  Teddy  dan- 
cing around  me,  flourishing  a  hickory  she- 
lalah  over  his  head  in  the  scientific  man- 
ner of  his  countrymen,  and  whooping, 
shouting,  and  cursing,  in  a  way  peculiar 
to  himself. 

By  some  means  he  had  been  madeaware 


of  mv  danger,  and,  like  a  noble  fellow,  had 
I  seized  him  by  the  throat,  I  rushed  into  the  crowd  and  felled  my  aJ- 
3 


26 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


vorsary,  with  a  blow  so  powerful  that  he 
still  lay  senseless  upon  the  ground. 

"  And  who  areyou,tIiat  dares  thus  to  in- 
t^:>rrere!"  cried  avoice  in  the  crowd,  which 
found  immediate  eclio  with  adozen  other?. 
"  Who  am  I,  ye  blaggards!"  roared  Ted- 
dy: "  Who  should  I  be  but  a  watchman, 
ye  dirthy  scull-mullions,  yees!  Come," 
he  cried,  seizinnr  me  by  the  collar,  "ye'll 
git  a  lock-up  the  ni;^ht  for  this  blaggard 
business  of  disturbing  the  slumbers  of 
honest  paaple  afore  they've  gone  to  bid, 
jist." 

I  saw  his  ruse  at  once,  and  determined 
to  profit  by  it,  and  make  my  escape.  To 
do  this,  I  pretended  of  course  that  I  was 
not  the  aggressor,  and  that  it  was  very 
hard  to  be  brought  up  before  the  Mayor  for 
a  little  harmless  fun. 

"Harmless  fun!"  roared  the  cunning 
Irishman.  "  D'ye  calls  it  harmless  fun, 
now, to  have  your  throat  cut,  ye  scoundrel? 
Come  along  wid  ye!"  and  he  pretended  to 
jerk  me  through  the  crowd,  which  gave 
way  before  him. 

We  had  just  got  fairly  clear  of  the  mass, 
when  we  heard  voices  behind  us  shouting: 
"  Stop  'em!  stop  'em! — he's  no  watch." 
"  Faith,  they're  afther  smelling  the  joke 
whin  it's  too  late,"  said  Teddy.  "  But 
run,  vour  honor,  or  the  divils  will  be  howld 
of  ns." 

I  needed  no  second  prompting;  and 
with  the  aid  of  the  Irishman,  who  partial- 
ly supported  me — for  I  was  still  weak — I 
darted  down  a  dark  and  narrow  street.  For 
a  short  distance  we  heard  the  steps  of 
pursuers  behind  us,  but  gradually  one  after 
another  gave  up  the  chase,  until  at  last  we 
found  our  course  left  free. 

It  would  be  impossible  forme  to  picture 
tke  joy  I  felt  at  my  escape,  or  my  grati- 
tude toward  my  deliverer.  Turning  to  the 
Irishman,  I  seized  his  band,  while  my  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Teddy,"  I  said,  "  you  have  saved  my 
life,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it." 

"Troth,  your  honor,"  replied  Teddy, 
with  a  comical  look,  "  it  was  wor-r-th  pre- 
sarving — for  it's  the  best  and  ounly  one 
yees  got." 

I  said  no  more,  but  silently  slipped  a 
gold  coin  into  his  hand. 


"  Howly  mother!  how  smooth  it  makes 
a  body's  hands  to  be  buthered,"  observed 
the  Irishman,  as  he  carefully  hid  the  coin 
in  his  pocket. 

Deep  was  the  sympathy  of  Huntly  for 
me,  when,  arrived  at  the  hotel,  I  detailed 
what  had  occurred  in  my  absence;  and  as 
deephisgratitudetothe  preserverofmy  life. 

"  Frank,"  he  exclaimed,  grasping  my 
hand,  "  henceforth  you  go  not  alone,  in  the 
night,  in  a  strange  city." 

The  next  day,  though  stiS'  and  sore  from 
my  bruises,  I  found  myself  gliding  down 
the  Ohio  on  a  splendid  steamer,  bound  for 
St.  Louis,  where  in  due  time  we  all  ar- 
rived without  accident  or  event  worthy  of 
note. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PRAIKIE—SUNSET  SCENE — REFLECTIONS 
— OUR  FIRST  CAWP — COSTUME — EQUIP- 
MENTS— THE   TRAPPERS,   ETC. 

The  prairie!  the  mighty,  rolling,  and 
seemingly  boundless  prairie!  With  what 
singular  emotions  I  beheld  it  for  the  first 
time!  I  could  compare  it  to  nothing  but 
a  vast  sea,  changed  suddenly  to  earth,  with 
all  its  heaving,  rolling  billows.  Thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  acres  lay  spread 
before  me  like  a  map,  bounded  by  nothing 
but  the  deep  blue  sky.  What  a  magnifi- 
cent sight!  A  sight  that  made  my  soul 
expand  with  lofty  thought,  and  its  frail 
tenement  sink  into  utter  nothingness  be- 
fore it.  Talk  of  man — his  power,  his 
knowledge,  his  greatness — what  is  he?  A 
mere  worm,  an  insect,  a  mote,  a  nothing, 
when  brought  in  compare  with  the  grand, 
the  sublime  in  nature.  Go,  take  the 
mighty  one  of  earth — the  crimson-robed, 
diamond-decked  monarch,  whose  nod  is 
law,  and  whose  arrogant  pride  tells  him 
he  rules  the  land  and  sea — take  him, bring 
him  hither,  and  place  him  in  the  center  of 
tln.s  ocean  of  land — far,  far  beyond  the 
sounds  of  civilization — and  what  does  he 
become?  Talk  to  him  then  of  his  power, 
his  greatness,  his  glory;  tell  him  his  word 
is  law — to  command,  and  he  shall  be  obey- 
ed; remind  him  of  his  treasures,  and  tell 
him  now  to  try  the  power  of  gold!  What 
would  be  the  result?     He  would  deeply 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


27 


feel  the  mockery  of  your  words,  and  the 
nothingness  of  all  he  once  valued;  for, 
alas!  they  would  lack  the  power  to  guide, 
to  feed,  or  save  him  from  the  thousand 
dangers  of  the  wilderness. 

Similar  to  these  were  my  thoughts,  as  I 
stood  alene,  upon  a  slight  rise  of  ground, 
and  overlooked  miles  upon  miles  of  the 
most  lovely,  the  most  sublime  scene  I  had 
ever  beheld.  Wave  upon  wave  of  land, 
if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  stretch- 
ed away  on  every  hand,  covered  with  beau- 
tiful, green  prairie-grass,  and  the  bloom- 
ing wild  flowers  of  the  wilderness.  Afar 
in  the  distance  I  beheld  a  drove  of  buffa- 
lo quietly  grazing;  and  in  another  direc- 
tion a  stampede  of  wild  horses,  rushing 
onward  with  the  velocity  of  the  whirling 
car  of  modern  days.  Nearer  me  I  occa- 
sionally caught  glimpses  of  various  other 
animals;  while  flocks  of  birds,  of  beauti- 
ful plumage,  skimming  over  the  surface, 
here  and  there  alighting,  or  starting  up 
from  the  earth — gave  the  enchantment  of 
life  and  variety  to  the  picture. 

It  had  been  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  sun 
was  now  just  burying  himself  in  the  far 
off  ocean  of  blue,  and  his  golden  rays  were 
streaming  along  the  surface  of  the  wav- 
ing grass,  and  tinging  it  with  a  delightful 
hue.  Occasionally  some  elevated  point, 
like  the  one  on  which  I  stood,  caught  for 
a  moment  his  fading  rays,  and  shone  like  a 
ball  of  golden  fire.  Slowly  he  took  his 
diurnal  farewell — as  if  loth  to  quit  a  scene 
so  lovely — and  at  last  hid  himself  from  my 
view  beyond  the  western  horizon.  Then 
a  bright,  golden  streak  shot  up  toward  the 
darkening  dome  of  heaven,  and,  widening 
on  either  hand,  gradually  became  sweetly 
blended  with  the  cerulean  blue.  Then 
this  slowly  faded,  and  took  a  more  crim- 
son color;  then  more  purple;  until,  at 
last,  a  faint  tinge  showed  the  point  where 
the  sun  ha,d  disappeared,  while  the  stars 
began  to  appear  in  the  gray  vault  above. 

I  had  stood  and  marked  the  whole 
change  with  that  poetical  feeling  of  plea- 
sant sadness  which  a  beautiful  sunset  rare- 
ly fails  to  awaken  in  the  breast  of  the  lover 
of  nature.  I  noted  every  change  that  wa? 
going  on,  and  'yet  my  thoughts  were  far, 
far  away,  in  my  native  land.     I  was  think- 


ing of  the  hundreds  of  miles  that  separa- 
ted me  from  the  friends  I  loved.  I  was 
recalling  the  delight  with  which  I  had, 
when  a  boy,  viewed  the  farewell  scenes  of 
day  from  some  of  the  many  romantic  hills 
of  old  New  England.  I  pictured  the  once 
cheerful  home  of  my  parents,  which  I  had 
forsaken,  and  which  now  peradventure  was 
cheerful  no  longer,  in  consequence  of  my 
absence.  I  fancied  I  could  see  my  mother 
move  to  the  door,  with  a  slow  step  and 
heavy  heart,  and  gaze  with  maternal  af- 
fection toward  the  broad,  the  mighty  west, 
and  sigh,  and  wonder  what  had  become  of 
him  who  should  have  been  the  stay  and 
support  of  her  declining  years.  I  thought, 
and  I  grew  more  sad  as  I  thought,  until 
tears  filled  my  eyes. 

Mother!  what  a  world  of  affection  is 
compressed  in  that  single  word!  How  lit- 
tle do  we,  in  the  giddy  round  of  youthful 
pleasures  and  folly,  heed  her  wise  coun- 
sels! How  lightly  do  we  look  upon  that 
jealous  care  with  which  she  guides  our 
otherwise  erring  feet,  and  watches  with 
feelings  which  none  but  a  mother  can 
know,  the  gradual  expansion  of  our  youth 
to  the  riper  years  of  discretion!  We  may 
not  think  of  it  then,  but  it  will  be  recalled 
to  us  in  after  years,  when  the  gloomy 
grave,  or  a  fearful  living  separation,  has 
placed  her  far  beyond  our  reach,  and  her 
sweet  voice  of  sympathy  and  consolation 
for  the  various  ills  attendant  upon  us, 
sounds  in  our  ear  no  more.  How  deeply 
then  we  regret  a  thousand  deeds  that  we 
have  done  contrary  to  her  gentle  admoni- 
tions! How  we  sigh  for  those  days  once 
more,  that  we  may  retrieve  what  we  have 
done  amiss,  and  make  her  sweet  heart 
glad  with  happiness.  Alas!  once  gone, 
they  can  rarely  be  renewed — and  ws  ""row 
mournfully  sad  with  the  bitter  reflection. 

My  mother — my  dearly  beloved  mother' 
— would  I  ever  behold  her  again! — 
Should  I  ever  return  to  my  native  land, 
would  I  find  her  among  the  living!  If  not — 
if  not!  Heavens!  what  a  sad,  what  a  pain- 
ful thought!  and  instantly  T  found  my  eyes 
swimming  in  tears,  and  my  frame  trem- 
bling with  nervous  agitation.  But  I  would 
hope  for  the  best;  I  would  not  borrow 
trouble;  and  gradually  I  became  calm. — 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


Then  I  thought  of  my  father — of  many 
other  dear  friends — and,  lastly,  though  I 
strove  to  avoid  it,  I  thought  of  Lilian — 
sweet,  lost,  but  ah!  dearly  loved  Lilian. 
[  could  see  her  gentle  features,  I  could 
itear  her  plaintive  voice — soft  and  silvery 
;i3  running  waters — and  I  sighed,  a  long, 
I'eep  sigh  as  I  thought.  Would  I  ever  be- 
hold her  again)  I  might,  but — (my  blood 
ran  cold)  but — wedded  to  another.     "Ay! 


long  and  parti-colorcd  fringes.  Our  nether 
garments  were  of  the  same  material,  or- 
namented in  the  same  manner,  and  on  our 
feet  were  moccasins.  Round  the  waist  of 
each  was  a  belt,  supporting  a  brace  of  pis- 
tols and  a  long  knife,  the  latter  in  a  sheath 
made  of  bufFalo-hide.  A  strip  of  leather 
passing  over  our  right  shoulders,  suspend- 
ed our  powder  horns  and  bullet  pouches 
under  our  left  arms.     In  the  latter  we  car- 


wedded  to  another!"  I  fairly  groaned  aloud,   ried  flint  and  steel,  and  small  etceteras  of 


with  a  start  that  sent  the  red  current  of 
life  swiftly  through  my  veins. 

I  looked  around  me,  and  found  it  already 
growing  dark.  The  beautiful  scene  I  had 
so  lately  witnessed,  was  now  faded  from 
my  sight;  and  the  gloomy  howl  of  a  dis- 
tant pack  of  wolves,  reminded  me  that  I 
was  now  beyond  civilization,  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  an  extensive  prairie.  I  looked 
downward,  and  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
me  beheld  the  fire  of  our  first  camp  on 
the  prairie;  and  with  a  hasty  step  I  de- 
scended the  eminence  and  joined  my  com- 
panions. 

"  Ah!  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  as  I  came 
up,  "  I  was  beginning  to  fear  something 
had  happened  you,  and  you  can  easily  im- 
agine my  feelings.  Why  did  you  absent 
yourself  so  long?' 

"  I  was  on  yonder  eminence,  enraptured 
with  the  glories  of  the  sunset  scene,"  I 
replied,  somewhat  evasively. 

"  Ah!  was  it  not  a  splendid  sight!"  he 
rejoined,  enthusiastically,  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  I  too  beheld  it  with  rapture,  and 
regretted  that  you  were  not  by  to  sympa- 
thise with  me  in  my  poetical  feelings. — 
But  come,  supper  is  preparing,  and  so  let 
us  regale  ourselves  at  once,  and  afterward 
take  our  first  sleep  in  this  magnificent 
wild." 

As  I  said  before,  this  was  our  first  camp 
on  the  prairie.  On  our  way  hither  we 
had  joined  a  party  of  four  hunters  or  trap- 


various  kinds,  that  had  been  mentioned  as 
being  useful  where  we  procured  our  fit-out. 
Among  other  things,  we  had  taken  care  to 
secure  plenty  of  ammunition,  tobacco  and 
pipes,  together  with  an  extra  supply  of  ap- 
parel for  the  cold  regions  toward  which 
we  were  journeying,  all  of  which  were 
snugly  stowed  away  in  our  large  buifalo- 
skin  wallets — called  by  the  trappers  "  pos- 
sibles," or  "  possible  sacks" — which  were 
either  attached  to  or  thrown  across  our  ^ 
saddles. 

In  the  description  just  given,  I  have 
been  speaking  of  our  party  alone — name- 
ly, Huntly,  Teddy  and  myself — without  re- 
gard to  the  trappers,  who,  were  costumed 
and  equipped  much  like  ourselves,  with  the 
exception  that  instead  of  horses  their  ani- 
mals were  mules;  and  in  place  of  one 
apiece,  they  had  three.  They,  however, 
were  bound  on  a  regular  trapping  expedi- 
tion, and  carried  their  traps  with  them, 
and  took  along  their  mules  for  furs;  whi'e 
we,  going  merely  on  adventure  and  not 
speculation,  had  only  taken  the  animals 
upon  which  we  rode.  Our  horses  and  ap- 
pendages, what  we  had,  were  all  of  the 
finest  description;  and  our  long,  silver- 
mounted  rifles  drew  many  a  wistful  look 
from  our  newly  made  companions.  In 
joining  them,  our  chief  object  was  to  learn 
their  habits  and  customs  in  the  wilderness, 
before  we  ventured  forth  upon  our  own 
resources;  and  by  being  somewhat  liberal 


pers,  and  in  consequence  our  number  was   in  supplying  them  with  tobacco  and  many 
now  augmented  to  seven.    We  had  thrown   small  things  of  great  value  to  the  trapper. 


off  the  lighter  and  more  costly  apparel  of 
the  settlements,  and  were  now  costumed 
in  the  rougher  garments  worn  by  the  hunt- 
ers of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  This  con- 
sisted of  a  frock  or  hunting  shirt,  made  of 


we  secured  their  friendship  and  favor  at 
once. 

The  trapper  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is 
a  singular  being.  Like  the  boatman  of  the 
river,  the  sailor  of  the  ocean,  or  the  scout 


dressed   buckskin,  and   ornamented   with  I  of  the  forest,  he  has  peculiar  characteristics, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


20 


both  as  regards  manners  and  dialect.  Con- 
stantly exposed  to  danger  and  hardship, 
he  becomes  reckless  of  the  one  and  indif- 
ferent to  the  other.  His  whole  life,  from 
beginning  to  end,  is  a  constant  succession 
of  perilous  adventures;  and  so  infatuated 
does  he  become  with  the  excitement  at- 
tendant upon  these,  that,  confine  him  in  a 
settlement,  and  he  will  literally  pine  to 
death  for  his  free  mountain  air  and  liberty 
to  roam  as  he  lists. 

'There  is  no  polish,  no  sickly,  sentimen- 
tal refinement  in  his  manners  and  conver- 
sation— but,  on  the  contrary,  all  is  rude, 
rough,  blunt,  and  to  the  point.  When  he 
says  a  thing,  he  means  it:  and,  in  general, 
has  but  little  deceit.  With  death  he  be- 
comes so  familiar,  that  all  fear  of  the  dread 
king  of  mortality  is  lost.  True,  he  clings 
to  life  with  great  tenacity — but  then  there 
is  no  whimpering  and  whining  at  his  fate. 
When  he  finds  his  time  has  come  to  go,  he 
stands  up  like  a  man,  and  takes  the  result 
with  the  stoicism  of  a  manyr.  He  is  fre- 
quently a  great  boaster,  and,  like  the  sail- 
or, delights  in  narrating  strange  tales  of 
his  wonderful  adventures  and  hair-breadth 
escapes.  In  his  outward  behavior,  he  is 
often  sullen  and  morose;  but,  as  a  gener- 
al thing,  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place. — 
He  will  kill  and  scalp  an  Indian  foe,  with 
the  same  indifference  and  delight  that  he 
would  shoot  a  bear  or  deer — and  yet  you 
may  trust  your  life  and  money  in  his  hands 
with  perfect  safety.  In  fact,  I  may  say, 
that  his  whole  composition  is  a  strange 
compound  of  odds  and  ends — of  inexplica- 
ble inconorruities — of  good  and  evil.  I 
^  Until  within  the  last  few  days,  I  had  i 
never  seen  a  trapper;  and  of  course  he 
was  to  me  and  my  companions  as  great  an  j 
object  of  curiosity,  as  would  have  been  the  I 
aborigine  himself.  The  four  which  wej 
had  joined,  were  genuine,  bona  fide  speci-| 
mens  of  the  mountaineers.  Each  had  seen  \ 
much  service,  had  been  more  or  less  upon  I 
trapping  expeditions,  and  one  had  actually  [ 
grown  gray  in  the  hardy  life  of  the  wilder- j 
iiess.  Each  had  trapped  on  his  own  hook! 
and  for  others,  and  had  scoured  the  coun- 
try from  the  upper  regions  of  Oregon  to 
the  Mexican  latitude — from  the  States  to 
the  Pacific  ocean.     They  were  acquainted 


with  the  land  in  every  direction — knew  all 
the  regularly  organized  fur  companies — all 
the  trading  forts  and  stations — and  conse- 
quently were  just  the  men  to  initiate  us 
into  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  wilderness, 
all  the  mysteries  of  the  trapper's  life,  and 
excite  our  marvellous  propensities  by  theit 
startling  and  wonderful  tales.  They  glo- 
ried in  the  soubriquets  of  Black  George,, 
Rash  Will,  Fiery  Ned,  and  Daring  Tom — 
appellations  which  had  been  bestowed  on 
them  for  some  peculiar  look  in  their  per- 
sons, or  trait  in  their  characters. 

The  first  mentioned.  Black  George,  was 
the  eldest  of  the  party,  and  had  doubtless 
received  his  cognomen  from  his  dingj' 
complexion,  which  was  but  little  removed 
from  the  sable  son  of  Africa.  Naturally 
dark,  his  skin  had  become  almost  black 
from  long  exposure  to  the  weather.  In 
height  he  was  fully  six  feet,  gaunt  and 
raw-boned,  with  great  breadth  of  should- 
ers, ponderous  limbs  and  powerful  muscles, 
which  gave  him  a  very  formidable  appear- 
ance. Although  approaching  sixty,  his 
vigor  seemed  not  the  least  impaired  by  age. 
His  coarse  hair,  once  black,  was  now  an 
iron  gray.  His  face  was  thin  and  long, 
with  high  cheek  bones,  pointed  nose,  hol- 
low cheeks,  large  mouth,  and  cold,  gray 
eyes.  The  wonted  expression  of  his  coun- 
tenance v/as  harsh  and  repulsive,  though 
occasionally  lighted  with  a  humorous,  be- 
nevolent smile.  He  was  generally  liked 
and  respected  by  the  whites,  but  hated  and 
feared  by  the  Indians,  of  whom  he  was  a 
mortal  enemy,  that  seldom  failed  to  take 
their  "  hair"*  whenever  opportunity  pre- 
sented. 

The  next  in  order.  Rash  Will,  as  he 
was  denominated,  was  a  stout,  heavy  built 
man,  somewhat  above  the  medium  stature, 
and  about  forty  years  of  age.  He  had  a 
large  Roman  nose  and  mouth,  thick  lips, 
low  forehead,  and  blue  eyes.  The  gener- 
al expression  of  his  physiognomy  was  a 
blunt,  straight-forwardness,  without  regard 
to  consequences.  He  could  do  a  gooa 
deed  or  an  evil  one;  and  if  he  could  justi- 
fy the  latter  to  himself,  he  cared  not  a 
straw  for  the  opinions  of  others.     Head- 


*  Scalp. 


30 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


strong  ami  violent  when  excited  by  anger, 
he  had  been  the  author  of  some  dark  deeds 
among  the  savages,  which  fully  entitled 
him  to  the  appellation  of  Rash  Will. 

The  third  in  order,  Fiery  Ned,  was 
about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  of  a  robust, 
handsome  form,  some  five  feet  ten  inches 
iji  height,  and  fully  developed  in  every 
part.  Hid  features  were  comely  and  pre- 
possessing. The  only  marked  points  of 
his  countenance  were  hia  eyes — ^which 
were  small,  black,  restless,  and  piercing — 
and  his  forehead,  which  was  high  and  am- 
ple. His  temperament  was  ardent,  pas- 
sionate, and  fiery.  At  times  he  was  cool, 
frank  and  generous:  but  at  others,  espe- 
cially in  an  Indian  fight,  he  became  wild, 
furious,  and,  in  short,  a  perfect  devil. 

The  last  of  the  four,  Daring  Tom,  was 
the  youngest  and  the  most  to  my  liking  of 
any.  He  was  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  of  middling  stature.  Unlike  his  com- 
panions, his  features  were  very  fine,  al- 
most effeminate,  with  a  mild,  dignified  ex- 
,|)ression,  that  instantly  won  the  regard  of 
all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  He 
had  a  large,  full,  clear  blue  eye,  which 
rarely  varied  in  expression, be  the  circum- 
stances what  they  might.  Cool  and  col- 
lected at  all  times,  he  was  never  more  so 
than  when  surrounded  by  imminent  dan- 
ger. There  was  no  risk  he  would  not  run 
to  serve  a  friend,  and  on  no  occasion  had 
he  ever  been  known  to  display  the  least 
sign  of  fear — hence  was  he  called  Daring 
Tom. 

Such  is  an  outline  sketch  of  the  trap- 
pers who  had  now  become  our  companions; 
and  probably  take  us  all  together,  there 
was  not  in  the  whole  broad  west  another 
party  of  the  same  number,  that  could  pre- 
sent a  more  formidable  appearance,  or  per- 
form greater  feats  in  the  heat  of  contest. 
At  the  moment  when  I  came  up  to  the 
fire,  each  of  the  trappers  was  seated  beside 
it  on  the  ground,  cross-legged,  engaged  in 
toasting  slices  of  a  fat  buck,  which  one  of 
them  had  killed  and  brought  in  not  an  hour 
before.  They  were  talking  away  briskly 
all  the  while,  telling  some  wonderful  tale, 
or  cracking  some  joke,  to  the  great  amuse- 
ment of  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  who,  a  little 
apart,  was  seated  in  a  similar  manner  to 


themselves,  and  listening  attentively,  witd 
mouth  and  eyes  widely  distended.  A  lit- 
tle distance  from  the  fire,  our  hobbled  ani- 
mals were  quietly  cropping  the  luxuriant 
herbage  beneath  them. 

"  So  then,  Charley,"  I  said,  after  having 
taken  a  general  survey,  "  I  suppose  we  are 
to  fatten  on  dser  meat]" 

"  Deer  meat  and  salt,"  he  replied,  vv-ith 
a  laugh.  "  The  fancy  preparations  of  civi- 
lization will  regale  us  no  longer,  and  we 
may  be  thankful  if  we  always  get  fare  as 
good  as  this." 

While  saying  this,  Huntly  had  drawn 
nearer  the  fire,  so  that  the  last  remark 
caught  the  ear  of  Black  George,  who  v/as 
just  on  the  point  of  enforcing  some  asser- 
tion v/ith  an  oath,  but  who  suddenly  stop- 
ped short,  and  turned  to  him  with  a  comi- 
cal look. 

"  See  heyar,  young  chap,  didn't  I  hearn 
you  say  you  was  from  Bosson,  or  some 
sich  place  in  the  States!" 

"  Doubtless,"  answered    Huntly,    "  for 
that,  I  am  proud  to  say,  is  my  native  city." 
"  O,  it's  a  city,  then.     Big's  St.  Louey 
hey!" 
"  Much  larger." 

"  Do  say!  Why  then  it's  some,  I  reck- 
ons." 

"  A  very  flourishing  place." 
"  Hum!     You  was  born  to  Bosson!" 
"  Ay,  and  bred  there." 
"  Bread!  O,  that  means  you  was  fodder- 
ed thar,  spose!" 
'•  Yes,  brought  up  and  educated  there." 
"  Edicated — augh!     Heyar's  what  never 
did  that;  never  had  no  need  on't;  know 
how  to  shoot  and  trap,  but  can't  make  pot 
hooks;  can't  tell  'em  when  they  is  made; 
know  they's  some,  though,  and   wouldn't 
mind  I  know'd  'em  a  few — but  don't  care 
much  no  how;  couldn't  live  no  longer  for't; 
couldn't '  float  my  sticks'*  no  better,  spect. 


•  That  is,  couldirt  get  along  any  better.  This 
is  a  common  expression  among  the  trappers,  and 
its  meaning  depends  altogether  upon  the  sense  in 
which  it  is  used  It  is  derived  from  their  occu- 
pation. A  "  stick"  is  attached  to  each  trap  by  a 
string,  and  if  the  beaver  runs  away  with  the  trap, 
the  stick,  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  in- 
dicates the  whereabouts  of  the  animal,  and  en- 
ables the  trapper  to  recover  his  property. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


31 


Well,  for  a  younker,  you've  had  a  right 
smart  chance,  and  I  spose  know  a  heap.* 
Heyar's  what's  born  way  down  to  Arkan- 
saw,  on  a  swamp  patch,  that  didn't  yield 
nothin  worth  divin  for.  I's  raised  down 
thar,  or  bread,  as  you  calls  it,  young  Bos- 
son,  (spose  you've  got  no  objection  to  be- 
in  called  arter  your  natyve  city)  though 
almighty  poor  bread  I  was,  for  I  didn't  git 
much  on't  for  a  spell — in  fact  till  I'd  near- 
ly gone  underf — augh!  Let's  see,  whar 
was  I]  O,  you's  saying  sumthin  'bout 
bein  thankful  for  sich  fare's  this.  Ittickled 
me  a  heap — it  did — and  I  had  to  in'ardiy 
hold  on  tight  to  my  ribs,  to  keep  from  guf- 
fawing. Why,  young  Bossoners,  (address- 
ing both  of  us)  ef  you'd  seen  what  I  hev, 
a  piece  like  that  thar,  (pointing  to  the 
meat  on  the  end  of  his  stick,  which  he 
was  toasting  at  the  fire,)  would  a  bin  a 
heaven  on  arth,  and  no  mistake.  Talk 
about  bein  thankful  for  sich  fare's  this! 
Wait  till  you've  seen  your  boss  go  under, 
and  the  last  end  o'  the  eatable  parto'  your 
possibles  chawed  up,  and  then  talk." 

Here  the  old  man  paused  and  chuckled 
heartily,  and  winked  at  his  companions, 
who  joined  him  in  his  merriment,  to  the 
utter  consternation  of  poor  Teddy,  who, 
with  mouth  wide  open,  and  eyes  enlarged 
to  their  utmost  capacity,  simply  exclaimed: 

"  Howly  murther!  what  a  baastly  time 
on't  yees  had!" 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  some  very 
rough  times!"  I  rejoined,  anxious  to  draw 
the  old  man  out  in  some  of  his  wonderful 
tales  of  adventure. 

"  Well  I  has,  hoss,"  was  the  quick  re- 
spose;  "  and  ef  you  want  to  make  folks 
stare  in  the  States,  you'd  better  jest  jog 
down  one  I've  a  notion  to  tell." 

"  We  shall  all  be  eager  listners,"  I  re- 
joined. 

"Think  you'd  like  to  hear  it,  heyl" 

"  0,  most  certainly." 

The  old  man  smiled  complacently,  and 
stroked  his  beard  of  a  day's  growth,  in  a 
way  to  denote  that  he  felt  himself  some- 
what complimented. 


"  Got  any  bacca"?" 

I  gave  him  a  large  quid. 

"  Well,  plant  yourselves  down  here  in 
talking  distance,  and  while  this  deer  meat's 
sizzling,  I'll  tell  you  a  trump,  and  an  ace 
at  that." 

Huntly  and  myself  at  once  seated  our- 
selves upon  the  ground,  as  near  the  old 
man  as  possible,  who,  giving  the  weed  a 
few  extra  turns  in  his  mouth,  and  noting 
that  all  were  waiting  the  story,  began  the 
tale  which  I  give  in  the  following  chapter. 


*  A  western  word,  equivalent  to  "very  much." 
t  Died— another  expression  peculiar  to  the  trap- 
per. 


CHAPTER  VI.  / 

THE  OLD  trapper's  TALE ATTACK  ON    HIM 

BY  THE  INDIANS HIS  ESCAPE THE  DEAD 

PURSUER — SUFFERINGS THE       MYSTERI- 
OUS PRAIRIE  FLOWER,  ETC. 

"  Ye  see,  strangers,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  or  Bossoners,  (though  I  spect  it  don't 
make  no  pertikelar  dif'rence  what  I  calls 
ye,  so  it  don't  hurt  your  leelins  none,)  as 
I  sez  afore,  I  was  raised  down  to  Arkan- 
saw,  or  thereabouts,  and  it's  nigh  on  to 
sixty  year  now  sence  I  fust  tuk  a  center- 
shot  at  daylight,  and  in  course  I've  forgot 
all  the  feelins  a  fust  sight  gin  me.  How- 
somever,  that's  nothin  here  nor  tother. — 
(I  say.  Will,  ef  you've  got  that  thar  bot- 
tle about  you,  I  doesn't  mind  a  taste,  jest 
to  grease  this  here  bacca — augh !  Than- 
kee, Will;  you're  some,  you  is.) 

"  Well,  strangers,  you  nesdn't  'spect 
I'm  agoin  to  gin  ye  my  whole  hist'ry,  case 
I  isn't,  and  don't  know's  I  could  ef  I  want- 
ed to,  case  most  on't's  forgot.  So  now  I'll 
jest  jump  over  a  cord  o'  time,  and  come 
down  to  'bout  four  year  ago  come  next 
Feberry,  when  it  was  so  all-fired  cold,  it 
froze  icykels  on  to  the  star  rays,  and  slop- 
ed 'em  comin  down;  and  the  sun  froze  so 
he  couldn't  shine;  and  the  moon  didn't  git 
up  at  all,  she  didn't;  and  this  here  arth 
was  as  dark  nor  a  stack  o'  chowdered  nig- 
gers." 

Here  the  Irishman,  unable  to  stand  it 
longer,  roared  out: 

"  Howly  saints!  ye're  not  spaking  truth, 
now,  Misther  Black  Georgel" 

"  Aint  I,  though!"  answered  the  old 
trapper,  gravely,  slyly  tipping  the  wink  to 


32 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


one  of  his  companions.  "  D'ye  think  I'd 
lie  'bout  it!  You  remembers  the  time, 
Will?" 

"  Well  I  does,  hoss,"  replied  Will,  with 
a  g;rin. 

"  In  course  ye  does,  and  so  does  every 
body  that  knowed  any  thing  'bout  it.  I 
may  hev  exaggerted  a  leetle  'bout  the  stars 
and  them  things,  but  I  jest  tell  ye  what 
was  fact  and  no  mistake,  and  PH  be  dog- 
gone ef  I  doesn't  stake  my  v'racity  on  its 
being  true's  preachin!" 

Here  the  old  man  made  a  pause. 

"  Well,  well,  go  on!"  cried  I. 

"  Ay,  ay!"  echoed  Huntly. 

"  Well,"  said  Black  George,  "a  leetle 
drap  more  o'  that  critter — ^jest  a  taste — 
case  the  truth  makes  me  so  infernal  dry, 
you  can't  tell.  Augh!  thankee — (return- 
ing the  bottle) — feel  myself  agin  now. 
But  let's  see,  whar  was  I?" 

'■  You  were  speaking  about  the  wea- 
ther." 

"  So  I  was;  that's  a  fact;  I'll  be  dog- 
gone ef  I  wasn't!  Well,  as  I's  a  sayin,it 
got  so  cold  that  when  you  throwed  water 
up  in  the  air,  it  all  froze  afore  it  could  git 
down,  and  acterly  had  to  stay  thar,  case  it 
froze  right  on  te  tlie  atmospheric." 

"  On  to  whatr' 

"  The  atmospheric." 

"  What  is  that]" 

"  You  doesn't  know  what  atmospheric 
.  is?  Well,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I'm.  goin  to 
'lighten  nobody;  much's  I  ken  do  to  un- 
derstand for  myself.  But  I  knows  the  wa- 
ter froze  to  that  article,  for  that's  what  I 
hearn  a  schollard  call  it,  and  I  reckon  he 
knowed  a  heap  any  how." 

"  Well,  well,  the  story,"  cried  I. 

"  Yes,  well,  I  haint  got  through  tellin 
how  cold  it  was  yit.  Not  only  the  water 
froze  to  the  atmospheric,  but  the  animals 
as  ui^ed  to  run  o'  nights  all  quit  the  busi- 
ness, and  you  could  walk  right  up  to  one 
and  pat  him  han'some;  case  why — his 
rye-sight  was  all  froze  right  up  tight  to 
his  head.  Fact!  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it 
wasn't! 

''  Well,  I'd  bin  out  a  trappin,  and  had 
made  a  purty  good  lick  at  it,  and  was  com- 
in  down  to  Bent's  Fort,  to  make  a  lounge 
for  the  winter — leastwise  for  what  was 


left  on't — when  jest  as  I  crossed  Cherry 
Creek,  arter  having  left  the  Sothe  Platte, 
I  wish  I  may  be  smashed,  ef  I  didn't  see 
'bout  adozen  cussed  Rapahos  (Arrapahoes) 
coming  toward  me  on  bosses,  as  ef  old 
Nick  himself  was  arter  'em.  I  looked  around 
me,  and  darned  o'  a  thinff  could  I  see  but 
snow  and  ice — and  the  snow  was  froze  so 
hard  that  the  bosses'  and  muleys'  feet 
didn't  make  no  impression  on't.__  I  was 
all  alone,  boss-back,  with  three  good  mu- 
leys, all  packed  han'Some;  for  Jim  Davis — 
him  as  travelled  with  me — and  Andy  Fors- 
ker,  another  chap  that  made  our  party — 
had  gone  round  another  way,  jest  for  fear 
o'  them  same  painted  heathen  as  was  now 
comin  up.  But  ye  see  I'd  bin  bolder  nor 
them,  and  now  I  was  a-goin  to  pay  for't, 
sartln;  for  I  seed  by  thar  looks,  they  was 
bound  to  'raise  my  hair"*  ef  I  didn't  do 
somethin  for  my  country  quicker.  I  look- 
ed all  around  me,  and  thought  I  was  a  gone 
beaver  fast  enough.  I  had  a  purty  good 
hoss  under  me,  and  I  knowed  he  only  comW 
save  me,  and  a  mighty  slim  chance  he'd 
have  on't  at  that.  Howsomever,  I  reckon- 
ed it  wasn't  best  to  say  dieef  I  could  live, 
and  I  didn't  like  the  notion  o'  bein  '  rub- 
bed out'f  by  sich  a  dog-gone,  scrimptious 
lookin  set  o'  half  humans  as  them  thar 
Rapahos.  I  cast  around  me,  and  seea 
that  old  Sweetlove,  (rifle)  and  her  pups, 
(pistols)  and  my  butchers,  (knife  and  tom- 
ahawk) was  all  about;  and  so  I  jest  swore 
I'd  set  my  traps  and  make  one  on  'em 
'come,'  ef  I '  went  a  wolfin'  for  it. 

"  I  said  thar  was  'bont  a  dozen — maybe 
more — and  they  was  ticklin  thar  bosses' 
ribs  mighty  han'some,  you'd  better  believe, 
and  a  comin  for  me  with  a  perfect  loose- 
ness, every  one  on  'em  carryin  a  bow,  and 
every  bow  bent  with  an  arrer  in  it.  I 
knowed  my  muleys  was  gone,  sartin,  and 
all  my  traps  and  furs;  but  jest  then  I  felt 
so  all-fired  mad,  that  I  thought  ef  I  could 
throw  a  couple,  I  wouldn't  care  a  kick.  So 
instead  o'  trying  to  run  away,  I  hollered 
'  W^hoa'  to  the  animals,  and  waited  for  the 
redskins  to  come  up. — (Jest  a  drap  more 
o'  that.  Rash,  e/you  please;  for  this  here 


V 


*  Take  my  scalp, 
t  Killed. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


33 


hoss  is  as  dry  to-night  as  a  dog-woried 
slcunlc.) 

"  Well,  on  they  comes,  thunderin  away 
like  a  newly  invented  arthquake,  and  I 
'spected  for  sartin  I  was  a  gone  beaver. 
Jest  afore  they  got  up  so  as  they  could  let 
thar  shafts  riddle  me,  the  infernal  cowards 
seein  as  how  I  didn't  budge,  had  the  ou- 
daciousness  to  come  to  a  halt,  and  stare  at 
me  as  ef  I  was  a  kangaroo.  I  raised 
Sweetlove,  and  told  her  to  tell  'em  I's 
about,  and  '  some  in  a  bar  fight.'  She  an- 
swered right  han'some,  did  Sweetlove,  and 
down  the  for'ard  one  drapped  right  purty, 
lie  did.  Well,  this  sot  the  rest  on  'em  in 
a  rage,  and  afore  I  knowed  it,  they  was  all 
_j:ound  me,  yellin  like  the  old  Scratch. — 
Half  a  dozen  shafts  come  hissin  through 
my  buckskins,  and  two  on  'em  stuck  right 
in  my  meat-bag,  and  made  me  feel  all  over 
in  spots  like  a  Guinea  nigger.  Jnstanter 
I  pulled  out  Sweetlove's  pups,  and  set  'em 
to  barkin,  and  two  more  o'  the  humans 
drapped  down  to  see  how  the  snow  felt. 
Knowin  it  wasn't  no  use  to  be  foolin  my 
time,  I  jerked  the  ropes,  and  told  Skinflint 
to  travel  afore  my  hair  was  raised,  leavin 
the  muleys  to  do  what  they  liked. 

"  Seein  me  a-goin,  the  oudacious  Rapa- 
hos  thought  they'd  slop  me;  but  I  rid  right 
through  'emf  purty,  and  got  another  arrer 
in  my  back  fur  it. 

"  Arter  I'd  got  away,  I  looked  round  and 
seed  two  on  'em  a-comin  like  all  possess- 
ed, with  ihar  lariats  doubled  for  a  throw.  I 
knowed  ef  they  got  near  enough,  I'd  be  sna- 
ked off  like  a  dead  nigger,  and  my  hair  raised 
afore  I  could  say  Jack  Robinson.  Maybe  I 
didn't  ax  Skinflint  to  do  his  purtiest,  and 
maybe  he  didn't,  hey!  Why  he  left  a  trail 
o'  fire  behind  him,  as  he  went  over  that 
frozen  snow,  that  looked  for  all  nater  like 
a  streak  o'  big  lightnin.  But  it  didn't 
seem  to  be  o'  no  use;  for  the  infernal 
scamps  come  thunderin  on,  jest  about  so 
fur  behind,  and  I  seed  thar  bosses  was  all 
o'  the  right  stuff.  The  sun  was  about  a 
two  hoxir  up,  and  thar  he  stayed,  he  did; 
for  it  was  so  almighty  cold,  as  I  said  afore, 
he  couldn't  git  down  to  hide. 

"  Well,  on  we  run,  and  run,  and  run, 
till  the  bosses  smoked  and  puffed  like  a 
Massassip  steamer,  and  still  we  run.     I 


made'tracks  as  nigh  as  I  could  calculate 
for  the  mountains,  in  the  direction  o' 
Pike's  Peak,  and  on  we  went,  as  ef  old 
Brimstone  was  arter  us.  I  calculated  my 
chasers  'ud  git  tired  and  gin  in;  but  they 
was  the  real  grit,  and  didn't  seem  to  mind 
it.  At  last  they  begun  to  gain  on  me,  and 
I  knowed  from  the  '  signs'  o'  Skinflint, 
that  he'd  hev  to  go  under,  sure's  guns,  ef 
I  didn't  come  to  a  rest  purty  soon.  You'd 
better  believe  I  felt  queer  jest  then,  and 
thought  over  all  my  sins,  with  the  arrers 
stickin  in  my  belly  and  back  like  all  git 
out.  I  tried  to  pray;  but  I'd  never  larnt 
no  prayers  when  a  pup,  and  now  I  was  too 
old  a  dog  to  ketch  new  tricks;  besides,  it 
was  so  all-fired  cold,  that  my  thoughts 
stuck  in  my  head  like  they  was  pinned 
thar  with  icykels.  I'd  bin  chased  afore 
by  the  Commanches  and  Blackfoot,  by  the 
Pawnees  and  Kickapoos,  by  the  Crows  and 
Chickasaws,  but  I'd  never  had  sichfeelins 
as  now.  The  short  on't  is,  boys,  I  was 
gittin  the  squaw  into  me,  and  I  knowed  it; 
but  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I  could  help  it,  to 
save  my  hair,  that  stood  up  so  stiff  and 
straight  as  to  raise  my  hat  and  let  the  at- 
mospheric in  about  a  feet.  I  was  gittin 
outrageous  cold,  too,  and  could  feel  my 
heart  pumpin  up  icykels  by  the  sack  full, 
and  I  knowed  death  was  about  sartin  as 
daylight. 

" '  Well,'  sez  I  to  myself,  '  old  hoss, 
you've  got  to  go  under  and  lose  your  top- 
knot, so  *what's  the  use  a  kickin? 

"  '  Howsomever,'  I  answered,  '  sposi;^^  I 
has,  I  reckon's  best  to  die  game,  aint  itV — 
and  with  this  I  pulled  old  Sweetlove  round 
and  commenced  fodderin  her  as  best  I 
could.  She  knowed  what  was  wanted,  did 
Sweetlove,  and  looked  right  sassy,  I'll  be 
dog-gone  ef  she  didn't. 

" '  You're  a  few,  aint  you?'  sez  I,  as  I 
rammed  home  an  all-fired  charge  of  pow- 
der, that  made  her  grunt  like  forty. 

"Well,  I  turned  round,  fetched  her  up 
to  my  face,  and  '  drawin  a  bead'*  on  to  the 
nearest,  pulled  the  trigger. 

"  Now  you  needn't  believe  it  without 
ye  take  a  notion,  but  I'll  be  rumfuzzled 
(stir  that  fire,  Ned,  or  this  here  meat  won't 


*  Taking  close  sight. 


34 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


git  toasted   till  midni<j;ht),  ef  she  didn't! 
hold  siioot  about  a  tninnet,  and  I  all  the  \ 
time  squintin  away  too,  afore  the  fire  could 
melt  the  ice  round  the  powder  and  let  her 
off.     That's  a  facti — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef 
it  wasn't! 

"  Well,  she  went  off  at  last,  sJie  did, 
with  a  whoosss-k  cheeesss-cup  cho-bang, 
and  I  hope  I  may  be  dogged  for  a  possum, 
ef  one  o'  my  chasers  didn't  hev  to  pile 
himself  on  a  level  with  his  moccasin  right 
han'some.  Now  I  thought  as  how  this  'ud 
start  the  wind  out  o'  t'other,  and  put  him 
on  the  back'ard  track.  But  it  didn't.  He 
didn't  aeem  to  mind  it  no  more'n's  ef  it 
was  the  commonest  thing  out. 

"'Well,'  thinks  I  to  myself,  'maybe 
you'll  ketch  a  few  ef  you  keep  foolin  your 
time  tkat-a-ways;'  and  so  I  set  to  work 
and  foddered  Sweetlove  agin. 

"  By  this  time  poor  Skinflint,  I  seed, 
was  gittin  top-heavy  right  smart,  and  I 
knowed  ef  I  done  any  thing,  it  'ud  hev  to 
be  did  afore  the  beginnin  o'  next  month, 
or  'twouldn't  be  o'  no  use,  not  a  darned 
bit.  Well,  I  tuk  squint  agin,  plum-center, 
and  blazed  away;  but  hang  me  up  for  bar's 
meat,  ef  it  made  the  least  dif'rence  with 
the  skunk  of  a  Rapaho.  I  was  perfect 
dumfouzled;  complete  used  up;  for  I'd 
never  missed  a  target  o'  that  size  afore, 
scnce  I  was  big  enough  to  shoot  pop-guns 
to  flies.  I  felt  sort  o'  chawed  up.  Never 
felt  so  all  of  a  heap  afore  but  once't,  and 
^  that  was  when  I  axed  Suke  Harris  to  hev 
•sne,  and  she  said  '  No.' 

"  Now  you'd  better  calculate  I  hadn't 
710  great  deal  o'  time  to  think,  for  thar  he 
was — the  cussed  Injin — ^jest  as  plain  as 
the  nose  on  your  face,  and  a-comin  full 
split  right  at  me,  with  his  rope  quirled  in 
his  hand,  jest  ready  for  a  throw.  Quicker 
as  winkin,  I  foddered  Sweetlove  agin,  and 
gin  him  another  plum-center,  which  in 
course  I  spected  would  knock  the  hind- 
sights olT  on  him.  Did  it!  Nowyouken 
take  my  possibles,  traps  and  rauleys,  ef  it 
did.  Did  it!  No!  reckons  it  didn't.  Thar 
he  sot,  straight  up  and  down,  a  thunderin 
on  jest  as  ef  the  arth  was  made  for  his 
special  purpose.  I  begun  to  git  skeered 
in  arnest,  and  thought  maybe  it  was  the 
devil  deformed  into  a  Injin;  and  I'd  a  no- 


tion to  put  in  a  silver  bullet,  only  I  didn't 
happen  to  have  none  'bout  me. 

"  On  he  come,  the  scamp,  and  on  I  bolt- 
ed— or  tried  to  rayther — for  Skinflint  had 
got  usednp,  and  down  he  pitched,  sending 
me  right  plum  over  his  noddle  on  to  my 
back,  whar  I  lay  sprawlin  like  a  bottle  o' 
spilt  whisky. 

" '  It's  all  up  now,  and  I'm  a  gone  possum,' 
sez  I,  as  I  seed  the  Injin  come  tearin  ahead; 
and  I  drawed  the  old  butcher,  and  tried  to 
feed  one  o'  the  pups,  but  my  fingers  was 
so  numb  I  couldn't. 

"  Well  up  rides  old  Rapaho,  lookin  as 
savage  nor  a  meat-axe,  his  black  eyes 
shinin  like  two  coals  o'  fire.  Well  now 
what  d'ye  think  he  did!  Did  he  shoot  me! 
No!  Did  he  rope  (lasso)  me!  No!  Did 
he  try  to !     No,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  he  did!' ' 

"What  did  he  do!"  inquired  I,  quickly. 

"  Ay,  ay,  what  did  he  do!"  echoed 
Huntly. 

"  Howly  Mary!  if  ye  knows  what  he 
did,  Misther  George,  spaak  it,  jist,  an  re- 
lave  yer  mind  now,"  put  in  the  Irishman. 

The  old  trapper  smiled. 

"  Rash,"  he  said,  "  ef  that  thar  bottle 
isn't  empty,  I'll  jest  take  another  pull." 

"  Taint  all  gone  yit,"  answered  Rash 
Will;  "'spect  'twill  be  soon;  but  go  it, 

old  boss,  and  gin  us  the  rest  o'  that 

Rapahos  affair." 

The  old  man  drank,  smacked  his  lips, 
smiled,  and  remarked: 

"  How  comtortable  deer  meat  smells." 

"  But  the  Rapaho,"  cried  I,  "  what  did 
he  do]" 

"  Do!"  answered  Black  George,  with  a 
singular  expression  that  I  could  not  de- 
fine: "  Do!  why  he  rid  up  to  my  boss  and 
stopped,  he  did;  and  didn't  do  nothin  else, 
he  didn't." 

"  How  sol" 

"  Case  he  was  done  for." 

«  Dead]" 

"As  dog  meat — augh!" 

"Ah!  you  had  killed  him,  then!"  cried  I. 

"  No  r  hadn't,  though." 

"What  then!" 

"  He'd  died  himself,  he  had. 

"How,  died!" 

"  Froze,  young  Bossons,  froze  as  stiff 
nor  a  white  oak." 


OR,  ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


35 


"Pro2;e!"  echoed  two  or  three  voices, 
mine  among  the  rest. 

"  Yes,  blaze  my  old  carcass  and  send  me 

a  wolfin,  ef  he  hadn't!  and  I,  like  a 

fool)  had  bin  runnin  away  from  a  dead  nig- 
ger. Maybe  I  didn't  swear  some,  and  say 
a  lew  thataint  spoke  in  the  pulpit.  You'd 
jest  better  believe,  strangers,  I  felt  soft  as 
a  chowdered  possum." 

"  But  how  had  he  followed  you  if  he 
was  dead]" 

"He  hadn't,  not  pertikerlarly;  but  his 
lioss  had;  for  in  course  he  didn't  know  his 
rider  was  rubbed  out,  and  so  he  kept  on 
arter  mine,  till  the  divin  o'  old  Skinflint 
fetched  him  up  a-standin." 

"  Of  course  you  were  rejoiced  at  your 
escape]" 

"Why,  sort  o'  so,  and  sort  o'  not;  for  I 
felt  so  all-fired  mean,  to  think  I'd  bin  run- 
nin from  and  shootin  to  a  dead  Injin,  that 
for  a  long  spell  I  couldn't  git  wind  enough 
to  say  nothin. 

"At  last  I  sez,  sez  I, '  This  here's  purty 
business  now,  aint  it?  I  reckons,  old  bea- 
ver, you've  had  little  to  dp,  to  be  foolin 
your  time  and  burnin  your  powder  this 
way;'  and  then  I  outs  with  old  butcher, 
and  swore  I'd  raise  his  hair. 

"  Well,  I  coaxed  my  way  up  to  his  old 
hoss,  and  got  hold  on  himself;  but  it  wasn't 
a  darned  bit  o'  use;  he  was  froze  tight  to 
the  saddle.  I  tried  to  cut  into  him,  but  I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  my  knife  ud  enter  more'n 
'twould  into  a  stone.  Jest  then  I  tuk  a 
look  round,  and  may  I  be  rumboozled,  ef 
the  sun  hadn't  got  thawed  a  leetle,  and, 
arter  strainin  so  hard,  had  gone  down  v/ith 
a  jump  right  behind  a  big  ridge. 

"  Well,' sez  I, 'this  nigger'd  better  be 
making  tracks  somewhar,  or  he'll  spile, 
sure.' 

"  So  wishin  old  Rapaho  a  pleasant  time 
on't,  I  tried  Skinflint,  but  findin  it  wasn't 
no  go,  I  gathered  up  sich  things  from  my 
possibles  as  I  couldn't  do  without,  pulled 
the  arrers  out  o'  me,  and  off  I  sot  for  a 
ridge  'bout  five  mile  away. 

"  When  I  got  thar,  it  was  so  dark  you 
couldn't  tell  a  tree  from  a  nigger,  and  the 
wind — phe-ew! — it  blowed  so  one  time 
that  I  had  to  hitch  on  to  a  rock  to  keep 
myself  any  whar,    I  tried  to  strike  a  fire. 


but  my  fingers  was  so  cold  I  coulda't,  and 
the  snow  had  kivered  up  every  thing,  so  that 
thar  wasn't  nothin  to  make  it  on. 

" '  It's  a  screecher,'  I  sez,  to  myself, 
'  and  afore  daylight  I'll  be  rubb.ed  out,  sar- 
tin.' 

"  At  last  I  begun  to  feel  so  que-er,  and 
so  sleepy  I  couldn't  hardly  keep  open  my 
peepers.  I  knowed  ef  I  laid  down  and 
slept,  I  was  a  gone  beaver;  and  so  stum- 
blin  about,  I  got  hold  o'  a  tree,  and  begun 
to  climb,  and  v.?hen  I  got  up  high  enough, 
I  slid  down  agin,  and  you'd  better  believe 
this  here  operation  felt  good — ef  it  didn't 
I  wouldn't  tell  ye  so. 

"  The  whole  blessed  night  I  worked  in 
this  way,  and  it  blowin,  and  snowin,  and 
freezin  all  the  time  like  sixty.  At  last 
mornin  come,  but  it  was  a  dirned  long 
while  about  it,  and  arter  I'd  gin  in  that 
dayliglit  wasn't  no  whar. 

"  Well,  soon's  I  could  see,  off"  I  sot,  and 
travelled,  and  travelled,  I  didn't  know 
which  way  nor  whar,  till  night  had  come 
agin,  and  I  hadn't  seen  nothin  human — 
and  besides,  I'd  eat  up  all  my  fodder.  I 
tried  to  shoot  somethin,  but  I'll  be  dogged 
ef  thar  was  any  varmints  to  shoot  o'  no 
kind — they  was  all  froze  up  tighter  nor 
darnation. 

"  That  night  went  like  tother,in  rubbin 
a  tree,  and  the  next  day  I  sot  on  agin,  and 
travelled  till  night,  without  eatin  a  bit  o' 
food.  I  had  a  leetle  bacca,  and  that  I 
chawed  like  all  git  out,  until  I'd  chawed 
it  all  up,  and  begun  to  think  I  was  chawed 
up  myself.  I'd  got,  though,  whar  I  could 
find  a  few  sticks,  and  1  made  a  fire,  and 
it'd  a  jest  done  ye  good  to  seen  the  way  I 
sot  to  it. 

"  The  next  mornin  I  put  on  agin,  but  I'd 
got  so  powerful  weak,  that  I  rolled  round 
like  I'd  bin  spilin  a  quart.  Night  come 
agin,  and  I'd  got  worse  tangled  up  nor  ever, 
and  didn't  know  the  pint  o'  compass  from 
a  bufller's  tail. 

"  '  Well,  it's  all  up  with  this  here  coon,' 
I  sez;  '  and  so  what's  the  use  o'  tryin^ 
Might  as  well  die  now  as  when  I've  got 
more  sins  to  count;'  and  so  givin  old 
Sweetlove  a  smack,  and  tellin  her  to  be  a 
good  gal,  I  keeled  over  as  nateral  as  shoot- 
in.     I   looked  up'ard,  and  seed  a  bright 


3fi 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


star  that  'ud  jest  thawed  its  way  down 
and  thinkin  maybe  I'd  be  thar  soon,  I  gin 
in  and  shut  my  peepers,  as  I  spected  for 
the  last  time. 

"  How  long  I  laid  thar  I  never  knowed, 
and  never  spect  to;  but  when  I  seed  day- 
light agin,  I  found  this  here  boss  in  a  In- 
jin  lodge,  somevvhar  about,  and  tickle  me 
with  a  pitch-pine  knot  ef  I  ever  knowed 
exactly  whar;  for  I  forgot  to  '  blaze'*  the 
place,  and  couldn't  never  find  it  agin.  At 
fust  in  course  I  thought  I  was  in  the  other 
country  folks  tells  about;  and  thinks  I, 
I've  bin  stuck  among  the  Injins,  jest  to 
punish  me  for  raisin  so  much  hair  while 
on  the  arth.  I  begun  to  git  skeered,  I  tell 
ye;  but  it  wasn't  long  afore  I  seed  a  sight 
that  made  it  seem  like  Heaven  anyhow — 
leastwise!  felt  parfectly  willin  to  be  pun- 
ished that  way  etarnally,  I  did. — (I  say, 
Bosson,  got  any  more  bacca]  This  here 
travels  like  a  May  frost.") 

"  Well,  what  did  you  see?"  I  inquired, 
as  I  hastily  supplied  him  with  the  desired 
article. 

"See!  sposin  you  guess  now.  You're 
what  they  calls  Yankee,  and  ort  to  guess 
any  thing." 

"  Oj  I  could  not  guess  it,  I  am  satis- 
fied." 

"  I  can  now,"  said  the  Irishman. 

"Well,  Teddy,  out  with  it." 

"  Why,  he  saan  a  bothel  o'  whisky,  in 
course;  what  else  should  he  sae  to  make 
liim  happy  all  of  a  sudden]" 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  this  witty 
reply,  in  which  Black  George  good  hu- 
moredly  joined. 

"  Well,  you  is  some  at  guessin,  you  is," 
replied  the  old  trapper;  "  but  you  didn't 
quite  hit  it,  boss.  I  say,  strangers,  what's 
the  purtiest  sight  you  ever  seed  on  the 
arthr'; 

"  A  beautiful  female,"  I  replied. 

"Well  that's  jest  what  I  seen.  I  seed 
afore  me  a  critter  in  the  shape  o'  a  gal, 
that  was  the  most  purty  I  ever  drawed 
bead  on." 

"  A  beautiful  girl?"  I  exclaimed. 


*  To  "blaze"  a  tree  is  to  mark  it  with  an  axe, 
or  in  some  way,  so  that  it  can  be  identified.  A 
"  blazed  path"  is  one  so  marked  throughout. 


"  Well,  stranger,  she  wasn't  nothin  else' 
she  wasn't — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  she  was!" 

"Describe  her!" 

"  Jest  describe  a  angel,  and  you've  got 
her  to  a  T — ef  you  havn't,  why  was  bea- 
vers growed?  that's  all." 

"  Who  v/as  she?" 

"  Well  now,  boss,  you're  gittin  into  the 
picters,  and  headin  oflf  this  old  coon  right 
center.  I  never  knowed  who  she  was,  un- 
less she  was  a  sperit — for  I'll  be  dog-gone 
ef  ever  I  seed  any  thing  half  as  decent 
'bout  a  Injin." 

"  Can  you  not  describe  her?" 

"  Describe  thunder!  Why  she  was  the 
tallest  specimen  of  a  human  as  ever  sp'ilt 
par-flesh  of  buffler,  she  was.  She  had 
long  hair,  black  as  a  nigger  in  a  thunder- 
cloud; and  eyes  black  too,  and  so  large 
and  bright  you  could  see  to  shave  in  'em 
as  easy  as  trappin.  And  then  sich  a  face! 
— well  that  was  a  face,  now,  or  I  wouldn't 
tell  ye  so.  It  kept  puttin  me  in  mind  o' 
summer  Vt'eather  and  persimmons,  it  was  so 
almighty  warm  and  sweet  lookin.  O,  sich 
a  nose — sich  lips — sich  teeth — and,  hea- 
vens and  arth!  sich  a  smile! — (A  drap 
more,  Will,  for  this  child's  mouth's  gittin 
watery  a  thinkin,  and  that  meat  looks  like 
feedin  time.") 

"  Why,  now,  you  have  raised  my  curi- 
osity to  the  highest  point,"  I  said,  "  and 
so  I  must  have  the  rest  of  the  story  forth- 
with." 

"  Boys  often  git  thar  curiosity  raised 
out  here-aways,  and  thar  hair  too  some- 
times," replied  the  old  hunter,  coolly,  tak- 
ing his  meat  off  the  stick  and  commen- 
cing to  eat. 

"  But  you  are  going  to  finish  your  story, 
George?"  queried  Huntly,  quickly. 

"  Why,  I  spect  I'll  hev  to;  but  I'll  make 
it  short;  for  I  never  likes  to  talk  much 
'bout  that  gal;  I  al'ays  feel  so  much  all 
overish,  I  can't  tell  ye  how." 

"  Perhaps  you  got  in  love  with  her,"  re- 
turned Huntly,  jocosely. 

The  old  trapper  suddenly  paused,  with 
the  meat  half  way  to  his  moulh,  and  turn- 
ed upon  my  friend  with  a  frown  and  gleam- 
ing eyes. 

"  Look  heyar,  boy,"  he  said,  "  you  didn't 
mean  to  insult  this  child,  I  reckon?" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


37 


"  Far  from  It,"  answered  Huntly,  quick- 
ly. "  I  only  spoke  in  jest,  and  crave  par- 
don if  I  offended." 

''  'Twon't  do  to  jest  about  every  thing, 
young  chap,  case   thar  is   spots  as   won't 
bear  rubbin.      Hovvsomever,  I   sees   you 
didn't  mean  nothin,  and  so  I'll  not  pack  it. 
Talkin   of    love!     Now   I    doesn't   know 
much  'bout  the  article,  though  I've  seed 
nigh  sixty  year,  and  never  was  spliced  to 
no  gal;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  'tis,  Bosson, 
ef  I'd  bin  thirty  year  younger,  ef  I  hadn't 
made  tracks  with  that'ar  gal,  and  hitched, 
then  call  me  a  nigger  and  let  me  spile." 
"  How  old  vpas  she?"  I  asked. 
"  Jest  old  enoug  hto  be  purty,  she  was." 
"  But  how  had  she  found  you  so  oppor- 
tunely?" 

"  That's  whar  I'm  fooled;  for  though  I 
axed  her,  and  she  told  me,  I'll  be  dog-gone 
ef  I  wasn't  thinkin  how  purty  she  looked 
when  she  talked,  and  let  the  whole  on't 
slip  me  like  tryin  to  throw  a  buffler  with  a 
greased  rope.  All  I  could  ever  ketch  on't 
was,  that  she  or  some  other  Injin,  or  some- 
body else,  come  across  me  and  tuk  me  in, 
did  up  my  scratches,  and  fetched  me  sen- 
sible. She  said  she  was  purty  much  of  a 
beaver  among  the  Injins,  and  could  do 
'bout  as  she  tuk  a  notion;  but  that  ef  I 
wanted  my  hair,  I'd  better  be  leavin  right 
smartly,  or  maybe  I'd  be  made  meat  of — 
augh! 

"  Well,  arter  it  come  dark,  she  packed 
some  fodder  for  me,  and  acterly  went  her- 
self along  and  seed  me  through  the  camp — 
for  it  wasn't  a  reg'lar  village  of  Injins  no 
how. 

" '  What  tribe's  this?'  I  axed,  arter  I'd 
got  ready  to  quit. 

"  '  That  you  musn't  know,'  she  sez.  '  Ax 
no  questions,  but  set  your  face  that-a- 
ways,  and  keep  your  nose  afore  ye  till 
daylight,  and  don't  come  heyar  agin,  or 
you're  dead  nigger.' 

"  '  But  ef  you  won't  tell  this  child  the 
Injins,  tell  me  who  you  is!' 

" '  I'm  called  Leni-Leoti,  or  Perrarie- 
Flower,'  sez  she;  and  then  afore  I  could 
say, '  O,  you  is,  hey!'  she  turned  and  put 
back  like  darnation. 

"  I'd  a  great  notion  to  foller  her,  and  I 
cussed  myself  arterwards  case  I  didn't;  but 


I  spect  I  was  feelin  green  then,  and  so  I 
did  jest  as  she  told  me — ef  I  didn't,  I  wish 
I  may  be  dogged!  When  it  come  mornin , 
I  looked  all  round,  and  concluded  I  was  on 
tother  side  of  the  '  Divide.'  So  I  tuk  a 
new  track,  and  arter  many  days'  travel, 
fetched  up  in  Brown's  Hole,  whar  I  found 
lots  of  trappers,  and  spent  the  winter — 
augh!  Now  don't  ax  no  more,  for  you've 
got  all  this  hoss'  agoin  to  tell;  for  the 
whisky's  out,  the  bacca's  low,  this  coon's 
hungered,  and  the  meat's  a  spilin." 

Here,  sure  enough,  the  old  trapper  came 
to  a  pause;  and  although  I  felt  a  deep  in- 
terest to  know  more  about  the  singular 
being  he  had  described,  Prairie-Flower,  I 
saw  it  would  be  useless  to  question  him 
further.  The  conversation  now  turned 
upon  trivial  affairs,  in  which  neither  Hunt- 
ly nor  myself  took  much  interest.  We 
felt  wearied  and  hungry;  and  so  after  re- 
galing ourselves  on  toasted  deer  meat, 
without  bread,  and  only  a  little  salt,  and 
having  seen  our  animals  driven  in  and  pick- 
eted— that  is,  fastened  to  a  stake  in  the 
ground,  by  a  long  lariat  or  rope  of  skin, 
so  that  they  could  feed  in  a  circle — we 
threw  ourselves  upon  the  earth  around  the 
fire,  and,  with  no  covering  but  our  o-ar- 
ments  and  the  broad  canopy  of  heaven, 
brilliantly  studded  with  thousands  on  thou- 
sands of  stars,  slept  as  sweetly  and  sound- 
ly as  ever  we  did  in  a  thickly  peopled  set- 
tlement. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MORNING  SCENE — CONVERSATION — BOTH  I* 
LOVE — LUDICROUS  MISTAKE — OLD  FEEL- 
INGS TOUCHED — INTERRUPTION. 

At  the  first  tinge  of  day-break  on  the 
following  morning,  I  sprung  to  my  feet, 
and  rousing  Huntly,  we  stole  quietly  from 
the  circle  of  sleeping  trappers,  and  took 
our  way  to  the  eminence  from  which  I  had 
viewed  the  farewell  of  day  the  evening 
previous.  It  was  a  splendid  morning,  and 
the  air,  clear,  soft  and  balmy,  was  not  stri- 
red  by  a  single  zephyr.  As  we  ascended 
the  knoll  and  looked  toward  the  east,  we 
could  barely  perceive  a  faint  blush  iadica- 


38 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


tiniT  the  rosy  diuvn  of  day,  while  a  soft, 
i^ray  lii^ht  spread  sweetly  over  the  scene, 
and  the  stars,  growing  less  and  less  bright, 
gradually  began  to  disappear  from  our 
view.  Presently  the  blush  of  morn  took 
a  deeper  hue,  and  gently  expanding  on 
either  hand,  blended  beautifully  with  the 
deepening  blue.  Then  golden  flashes  shot 
upward,  growing  brighter  and  brighter,  till 
it  seemed  as  if  the  world  were  on  fire; 
while  night,  slowly  receding,  gradually  re- 
vealed the  lovely  prairie  to  our  enchanted 
gaxe.  Brighter,  more  golden,  more  beau- 
tiful grew  the  east,  and  brighter  the  light 
around  us,  until  the  stars  had  all  become 
hidden,  and  objects  far  and  near  could  be 
distinctly  traced,  standing  out  in  soft  re- 
lief from  the  green  earth  and  the  blue  and 
golden  sky. 

"  Magnificent!"  I  exclaimed,  turning  to- 
ward my  friend,  who  was  standing  with 
his  face  to  the  east,  his  gaze  fixed  on 
high,  apparently  lost  in  contemplation. 

He  did  not  reply,  and  repeating  my  ex- 
clamation, I  lightly  touched  him  on  the 
arm.  He  started  suddenly,  and  turned  to 
mewith  an  expression  so  absent,  so  vacant, 
that  I  felt  a  slight  alarm,  and  instantly 
added: 

"  Hiintly,  are  you  ill)" 

"111,  Frank)  No!  no!  not  ill  by  any 
means,"  he  replied.      "Why  do  you  ask}" 

"  You  appeared  so  strangely." 

"Indeed!  Well,  where  think  you  were 
my  thoughts." 

"  How  should  I  know!" 

"  True  enough,  and  I  will  tell  you.  I 
was  thinking  of  that  fair  being  we  rescued 
from  the  flames." 

"  And  why  of  her  now]" 

"  Not  only  now,  Frank,  but  she  fills  my 
thoughts  more  than  you  are  aware.  Often 
do  I  see  her  in  my  dreams;  and  the  mere 
resemblance  of  yonder  sky  to  fire,  vividly 
recalloii  to  mind  that  never-to-be  forgot- 
ten nii'lit  v.hen  first  I  beheld  her." 

"•Gh':,rley,  you  are  in  love." 

"It  inay  be,"  he  answered  with  a  sigh; 
"but,  nias!  if  so,  I  love  one  whom  I  shall 
never  behold  again;"  and  he  dropped  his 
head  upon  his  bosom  in  a  musing  mood. 

"Nay,  nay,  old  friend,"  I  said  gaily;  "it 
will  not  do  for  you  to  be  getting  sentimen- 


tally love-sick,  away  out  here  upon  the 
prairies.  Who  knows  but  some  day  she 
you  are  thinking  of,  may,  in  spite  of  your 
now  doleful  looks,  become  your  wife!" 

*'  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  in  quick  reply, 
with  a  look  of  reproach,  "if  you  knew  my 
feelings,  you  would  not  wound  them,  I  am 
sure,  by  untimely  jests." 

"Good  heavens!  Charley,"  I  exclaimed, 
in  surprise,  at  once  grasping  his  hand  with 
a  hearty  pressure;  "I  wound  your  feelings'? 
Why  such  a  thought  never  entered  my 
head.  I  spoke  jestingly,  it  is  true;  but  I 
was  not  aware  that  the  affair  had  become 
so  serious.  I  was  thinking  at  the  time 
that  one  ailing  youth  in  our  camp  was  suf- 
ficient." 

"  To  whom  do  you  allude)" 

"  Myself." 

"  How  so)  I  was  not  aware  that  you 
were  ailing,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Why,  do  you  not  know  that  I  am  in 
love,  like  yourself)" 

"Heavens!  not  with  her,  Frank — not 
with  her)"  cried  my  friend,  grasping  my 
arm  nervously,  and  peering  into  my  face 
with  a  searching  glance. 

"  Ay,  Charles,  and  I  thought  you  knew 
it.  I  acted  wrongly,  I  know,  and  have 
deeply  repented  since." 

"  But  then,  you — you — love  her  still, 
Frank)" 

"  Devotedly,  as  God  is  my  judge!" 

Huntly  released  my  arm  with  a  groan, 
and  turned  away  his  head. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Charles)" 
I  inquired,  in  a  tone  of  alarm. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  it  rae  before)" 
he  said,  with  a  long,  deep  sigh. 

"  First,  because  it  is  a  delicate  subject, 
and  I  did  not  like  to  mer.tion  it.  Second- 
ly, because  you  havq  never  before  alluded 
to  it  yourself." 

"True;  but  T  did  not  dream  it  was  so. 
O  God!  why,  then,  did  you  not  let  me 
perish  in  the  flames)" 

"  Perish,  Charles) — how  strangely  yon 
talk!     Why  should  I  have  let  v'T'  >    ri~:,  i 

"  To  end  my  misery." 

"Misery)  You  alarm  me,  Chario.^i  ymi 
are  not  well — you  have  bad  news — or 
something  has  happened  which  you  have 
kept  from  me)" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


S^ 


"  You  love  her,  you  say — is  not  that 
enough?  But  go  on!  I  will  yield  all  to  you. 
I  will  not  stand  in  your  way.  No!  sooner 
would  I  die  than  mar  your  happiness.  But 
I  regret  I  did  not  know  of  it  before." 

"  Charles,"  I  exclaimed,  in  real  alarm, 
what  mean  you  by  these  strange  words? 
You  stand  in  my  way!  I  do  not  understand 
you;  you  have  some  hidden  meaning!" 

"  Have  you,  then,  not  divined  that  I  love 
her?" 
"Ay." 

"  And  can  two  love  the  same,  and  both 
be  happy?" 

"  Why  not?  I  would  not  robyou  of  your 
love.  True,  I  love  her  deeply,  devotedly, 
I  swear  to  you;  and  I  know  you  love  her 
also;  but  then  our  love  is  different.  You 
love  her  as  a  brother — but  I,  as  something 
more  than  brother." 

"  I  see  you  are  mistaken,  Frank;  and  to 
show  you  how  much  I  sacrifice  to  your 
happiness,  I  will  say,  once  for  all,  I  love 
her  as  deeply,  as  devotedly,  as  passionate- 
ly as  yourself;  but  not  as  a  brother,  my 
friend;  O  no,  not  as  a  brother." 

"  Indeed,  Charles!"  I  cried,  with  a  ter- 
rible suspicion  of  something  I  dared  not 
express:  "Indeed,  Charles!"  and  I  grasp- 
ed his  arm,  and  sought  his  eye  with  mine: 
*'.  Indeed,  Huntly  !  No,  no !  gracious 
heavens!  you  cannot  mean  what  j'ou  have 
said!  Take  it  back,  I  beg  of  you,  and 
avow  you  love  her  as  a  brother,  and  noth- 
ing more — for  more  would  be  crimin- 
al."' 

"  T  do  not  see  the  criminality  you  speak 
of,"  he  answered  coldly.  "Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  have  offered  to  sacrifice  my 
own  happiaess,  without  being  charged  with 
■crime!" 

"  But  Charles,  ray  friend, consider!— you 
have  no  riffht  to  an  attachment  warmer 
than  a  brother's." 

"  Right!"  echoed  Hnntly,  turning  pale 
with  excitement:  "Right,  say  you!  By 
heavens!  when  it  comes  to  that,  I  know 
not  why  my  right  to  love  her  is  not  as  good 
as  yours." 
"Shalll  tell  you?" 

"  Ay,  do!  Quote  me  the  law  that  makes 
it  criminal  for  me  to  love  and  notyourself," 
answered  Charles,  bitterly. 


"  The  law  of  consanguinity." 
"  Heavens!  what  do  you  mean?" 
"  Does  not  the  same   blood  flow  in  the- 
veins  of  both  of  you?" 

"Good  God!  you  chill  my  blood  with 
horror!  you  do  not  mean  this?"  and  my 
friend  turned  deadly  pale,  reeled  like  one 
intoxicated,  and  grasped  my  arm  for  sup- 
port. "I  was  not  aware  of  this,  Frank." 
I  now  became  more  alarmed  than  ever. 
Something  had  assuredly  turned  the  brain 
of  my  friend,  and  he  was  now,  (how  I 
shuddered  as  I  thought) — he  was  now  a 
maniac! 

"  Why,  Charley,"  I  said,  in  a  tone  as 
soothing  as  I  could  command,"  surely  you 
know  her  to  be  your  sister!" 
"Sister!"  he  fairly  shrieked. 
"Ay,  sister,  Charley.      Is    not   Lilian! 
your  sister?" 

"  Lilian!"  he  cried,  with  a  start,  and  a 
rapid  change  of  countenance  that  terrifi- 
ed me.  "Lilian! — then  j/oM  were  speaking 
of  my  sister  Lilian?" 
"Assuredly!  who  else?" 
Huntly  looked  at  me  a  moment  steadily, 
and  then  burst  into  an  uncontrolable  fit  of 
laughter,  that  made  my  blood  run  cold.  ' 

"Great  Heaven!"  I  cried,  his  senses 
are  indeed  lost!"  and  I  was  on  the  point  of 
hurrying  to  camp,  to  give  the  alarm 
and  get  assistance,  when,  seizing  me  by 
the  arm  with  one  hand,  and  giving  me  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder  with  the 
other,  he  exclaimed: 

"  Frank,  if  ever  there  were  two  fools, 
then  you  and  I  make  four." 

"  Poor  fellow!"  I  sighed,  and  my  eyes 
filled  with  tears:  "What  a  shock  it  will 
be  to  his  family!" 

"  Why,  Frank,  he  cried  again,  accom- 
panying his  words  with  another  slap,  "you 
are  dreaming,  man! — your  senses  are  wool- 
gathering." 

"  Exactly,"  I  said:  "he  of  course  thinks 
me  insane,  poor  fellow!" 

'•'  Non-sense,  Frank.  It  is  all  a  mistake, 
my  dear  fellow,  and  a  laughable  one  truly, 
as  you  must  know.  Y'^ou  were  speaking 
of  sister  Lilian;  while  1,  all  the  time,  was 
alluding  to  the  fair  unknown." 

"What!"  cried  I,  comprehending  all  at 
a  glance;  "then  it  is  no  insanity  with  you 


40 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOvVER; 


— and  we  have  both  made  fools  of  our- 
selves indeed!" 

"Exactly;  so  give  me  your  hand  on  it, 
my  old  chum!" 

Instantly  my  hand  was  locked  in  that  of 
my  friend,  and  then  such  another  shout  of 
merriment  as  we  both  set  up,  at  the  ridic- 
ulousness of  the  whole  affair,  I  venture  to 
say  was  never  heard  in  that  part  of  the 
country  before  nor  since. 

«'  So,  then,"  resumed  I,  "the  secret  is 
out,  and  we  have  both  acknowledged  to 
being  deeply  in  love.  Really,  dear  Char- 
ley, I  feel  under  great  obligations  to  you 
for  that  meditated  sacrifice — more  especi- 
ally, as  the  lady  in  question  is  thousands 
of  miles  away,  is  entirely  unknown  to  us, 
and  will  probably  never  be  seen  again  by 
either  Charles  Huntly  or  Francis  Leigh- 
ton." 

"Tut,  tut,  tut,  Frank!  'No  more  of 
that,  an'  thou  lovest  me,'  "  returned  my 
friend,  good  humoredly.  "I  admit  that  I 
have  acted  the  simpleton;  but,  at  the  same 
time  (and  he  gave  me  a  comical  look),  I 
feel  proud  to  say  I  have  had  most  excel- 
lent company — Eh!  my  dear  fellowl" 

"  1  acknowledge  the  corn." 

"But  touching  my  sister,  Frank." 

"  Well,  what  of  her!"  I  cried  quickly, 
while  I  felt  the  blood  rush  to  my  face  in  a 
warm  current. 

"  Did  you  not  act  hastily — too  hastily — 
in  that  matter,  my  friend !" 

"  I  fear  I  did,  and  I  have  bitterly  repen- 
ted me  since.  But  I  loved  her  so,  Char- 
ley; and  you  know  my  passionate  nature 
could  not  brook  a  rival." 

"  A  rival,  Frank!  I  never  knew  you  had 
a  rival." 

"  What!  not  know  the  elegant  Mr. 
Wharton!" 

"  Pah!  you  did  not  take  him  for  a  rival, 
I  hope." 

"  Indeed  I  did.  Does  he  not  visit  your 
house  frequently!" 

"Yes,  and  so  do  fifty  others;  but  I  as- 
sure you  dear  Lilian  will  not  marry  them 
all." 

"  But — but — I  thought  Wharton — a — a 

"  A  fashionable  gallant.     So  he  is." 
"  No — a — a — special  suitor  to  your  sis- 


ter's hand,"  I  stammered,  concluding  the 
sentence  my  friend  had  interrupted. 

"Pshaw!    Frank.     Why  Lilian   would 
not  look  at  him — other  than  to  treat  him 
respectfully,  as  she  would  any   visiter — 
much  less  marry  \i\m.'" 
"  Then  you  think  she  does  not  love  him!"' 
"  Love  him!"    echoed  Huntly,  with  a 
smile  of  contempt,  and  an  expressive  shrug 
of  his    shoulders.      "No!    Lilian   Huntly 
loves  but  one." 
"  And  who  is  he?' 

"  One  certain  hot-headed  youth,  ycleped 
Frank  Leighton." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this,  Charles]"  and  I 
caught  the  hand  of  my  friend,  and  fastened 
my  eye  steadily  upon  his. 

"  I  will  stake  my  life  on  it;  and  had  you 
been  possessed  of  your  usual  good  sense 
that  night  you  must  have  seen  it." 

I  released  the  hand  I  had  clasped  in 
m.ine,  and  staggered  back  as  if  struck  a 
violent  blow.  My  brain  grew  dizzy,  my 
hands  trembled,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
I  could  keep  myself  upon  my  feet.  In- 
stantly the  arm  of  my  friend  encircled  my 
waist,  and  he  said,  hurriedly: 

"Good  heavens!  what  have  I  done! 
Frank,  Frank,  take  this  not  so  hard — it 
will  all  be  right  in  the  end.  Lilian  and 
you  were  made  for  each  other,  I  see;  and 
this  seperation  will  only  serve  to  knit  more 
closely  the  tie  of  afTection  between  you 
when  again  you  meet." 

I  replied  not;  I  could  not;  but  I  struck 
my  head  with  my  fist,  and  gave  vent  to  a 
groan  that  seemed  to  issue  from  my  very 
soul. 

"  Is  it  there  ye  is,  your  honors!"  said 
the  voice  of  Teddy,  at  this  moment. — 
"Faith,  now,  I've  bin  lookin  for  yees  wid 
my  two  eyes  and  ears  this  long  while,  to 
ax  ye,  would  ye  have  your  breakfast  cook- 
ed, or  be  afther  takin  it  raw!" 

"Cooked,  you  fool!"  cried  Huntly, 
angrily. 

"  Thin  all  I  have  to  say  is,  it's  waitin, 
your  honors,  and  done  beauthifully,  by  the 
chief  cook  and  buthler,  Teddy  O'Lagher- 
ty,  barring  that  he's  no  cook  at  all,  at  all, 
worth  mintion,  anddivil  a  bit  o'  a  buthler 
is  in  him  now.  And  what's  mere,  I'm  to 
till  ye  that  the  Misther  Trapphers  is  jist 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


41 


gluing  ready  to  lave  the  whereabouts,  and 
they  sez  be  ye  going  wid  tliein,  they'll  be 
axing  yees  to  travel." 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  Huntly,  looking 
down  toward  the  camp,  "they  are  prepar- 
ing to  leave  in  earnest.  So  come,  Frank;" 
and  takinar  my  arm  in  his,  we  descended 
the  hill  together  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

OUR  CAMP  RAISED  AND  JOXrRNEY  RESUMED — 

A     HALT — cotton's      CREEK ORIGIN     OF 

THE     NAME ALARM PREPARATION    FOR 

©EFENCE CAMP,  ETC. 

By  the  time  that  we  had  joined  the  trap- 
pers, the  sun  was  already  risen,  and  stream- 
ing his  golden  light  over  the  broad  prairie 
with  a  beautiful  effect.  Hastily  partaking 
of  our  breakfast,  v/atering  our  animals 
at  a  small  creek  which  ran  bubbling  round 
the  base  of  the  little  knoll  so  often  men- 
tioned, we  prepared  to  raise  our  camp,  as 
packing  up  to  leave  is  termed  by  the 
mountaineers.  Placing  our  saddles,  pos- 
Fibles,  ect.,  on  our  horses  and  mules,  we 
mounted  and  took  a  northern  course  over 
the  prairie. 

As  we  passed  along,  we  saw  a  few  deer 
away  in  the  distance,  and  occasionally 
caught  sight  of  a  buffalo,  while  animals  of 
various  kinds  and  sizes  appeared  here  and 
there,  sporting  in  the  glorious  sunbeams 
and  seeking  their  daily  fare,  both  single 
and  in  numbers.  However,  as  we  had 
plenty  of  "meat"  laid  in  for  the  present, 
we  did  not  trouble  them,  but  kept  quietly 
along  upon  our  course — Black  George 
taking  the  lead  as  pilot,  and  the  rest  ol  us 
following  in  his  track,  Indian  file. 

A  little  past  noon  we  came  to  a  small 
creek  which  flows  into  the  Blue  Earth 
river,  or  "Big  Blue"  as  I  heard  it  called  by 
the  mountain  men,  and  here  we  paused 
again  to  water  our  aninpals,  and  allow  them 
a  few  minutes  to  crop  the  luxuriant  grass 
beneath  their  feet. 

"  Thar's  time  enough  boys,  I'm  thinkin," 
said  Black  George;  "so  what's  the  use  o' 
hurryin!  Spect  we  wouldn't  live  no  lon- 
ger for't;  and  jest  to  tell  you  fact,  I'm  in 


no  particular  drive  to  quit  this  warm  sun- 
shine, for  the  clouds  and  snow  and  ice  o' 
the  mountains — Eh!  Ned? — augh! 

"Don't  know's  the  mountains  '11  be  any 
better  for  ourwaitin,"  grumbled  Ned;  "and 
as  long's  we've  got  to  go,  what's  the  use 
o'  our  throwin  away  time  hereV 

"Augh!"  grunted  the  old  trapper. — 
"You're  al'ays  in  a  haste,  boy,  and  some 
day  you'll  git  rubbed  out  in  a  haste,  or  I'm 
no  beaver.  Come,  what  say  you,  Tom! — • 
you  haint  opened  your  face  sence  you 
bolted  that  meat — leastwise  to  my  knowin.' ' 

"  I  don't  care  a  chaw  which — stay  or  go 
— suit  yourselves,"  answered  Daring  Tom, 
sententiously. 

"  Well,  boys,"  rejoined  the  old  moun- 
taineer, "we'll  hold  our  wind  here  'bout  ;i 
quarter,  and  then  travel." 

Saying  which,  he  dismounted  his  mule, 
drew  his  pipe  from  a  little  holder  suspen- 
ded round  his  neck,  and  squatting  upon 
the  ground,  deliberately  filled  and  ignited 
it,  by  means  of,  punk,  flint  and  steel,  and 
commenced  puffing  away,  as  indifferent  to 
every  thing  or  person  around  him,  as  if  he 
had  been  paid  expressly  to  pass  his  life  in 
this  manner.  Fiery  Ned,  however,  was 
not  pleased;  and  ripping  out  a  few  oaths, 
on  what  he  termed  the  "d — d  laziness  of  the 
other,"  he  jerked  up  his  mules  and  set  for- 
ward, followed  by  Rash  Will  only — Daring 
Tom  and  ourselves  remaining  with  Black 
George.  The  last  mentioned  puffed  away 
quietly,  until  the  foremost  party  had  dis- 
appeared, when  taking  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  blowing  out  a  large  volume  of 
smoke,  and  watching  it  as  it  curled  round 
and  round  on  its  ascent  ere  it  disappeared, 
he  turned  to  me  with  a  comical  look,  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  winking  hi^? 
eye, observed: 

"  They'll  not  live  no  longer  for  it,  hoss 
— I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  they  will!"  Saying 
which,  he  drew  his  legs  a  little  more  under 
him,  and  resumed  his  pipe  with  the  gravity 
of  a  Dutchman. 

The  spot  where  we  were  now  halted,  *' 
was  one  of  rare  beauty.  It  was  a  little 
valley,  nearly  surrounded  by  hills  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse-shoe,  along  the  base  of 
which,  like  a  silver  wife,  wound  the  little 
murmuring  rivulet,    its  waters  sparkling 


42 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


in  the  sunshine,  becoming  glassy  in  the 
shade,  and  mirroring  the  steeps  above  it  as 
it  gaily  took  its  way  to  unite  with  the  lar- 
ger waters  of  the  Blur.  Above  us,  on 
three  sides,  rose  the  liorse-shoe  ridge,  par- 
tially bare  with  frowning  rocks,  and  par- 
tially covered  with  a  dwarfish  growth  of 
various  kinds  of  wood.  The  valley  or  bot- 
tom was  a  rich  alluvion,  carpeted  with 
fresh  sweet  grass — which  our  animals  crop- 
ped eagerly — and  with  various  kinds  ol 
wild  flowersj  while  hundreds  of  gay-plum- 
aged  birds  were  hovering  over  our  heads, 
or  skimming  along  the  surface,  and  thus 
checkering  and  enlivening  the  scene  with 
their  presence,  and  filling  the  air  and  our 
ears  with  the  melody  of  tlieir  voices.  The 
point  of  the  valley  not  belted  with  the  hills, 
looked  out  upon  a  prairie  which  stretched 
away  to  the  west  and  south,  its  half  grown 
grass  waving  in  the  breeze  and  resemb- 
ling the  lighter  ripples  of  some  beautiful 
lake. 

"  What  a  lovely  scene!"  said  Huntly, 
turning  to  me,  as,  dismounted,  we  both 
stood  gazing  upon  it. 

"  A  little  Paradise  that  I  have  never 
seen  surpassed,"  was  my  answer. 

"  Yes,  but  every  thing  beautiful  here- 
abouts gits  sp'ilt  to  them  as  knows  it  a 
few,"  chimed  in  the  old  hunter,  blowing 
the  smoke  deliberately  from  his  mouth. 
"Now  I've  no  doubt  this  here  place  looks 
purty  to  you,  but  I've  seen  blood  run  here- 
aways — augh!" 

"  Indeed  I"  I  exclaimed,  advancing  to  the 
old  trapper,  as  did  each  of  the  others,  with 
the  exception  of  Tom,  who,  having  squat- 
ted him.5elf  some  little  distance  off  and  lit 
his  pipe,  seemed  wholly  absorbed  with  I 
thoughts  of  his  own.  "Then  there  has 
been  fighting  here  in  days  gone  by  J"  I 
pursued. 

•'  Well   thar  has,  hoss,"  was  the  res- 
ponse.   "Ye  see  that  ar  creek,  don't  ye!" 
pointing  to  it  with  the  stem  of  kis  pipe. 
"  Ay." 
^     "  Well,  it  look's  purty  enough  to  one  as 
don't  know,  but  this  coon'a  «een  them  wa- 
ters red  afore  now." 
"  Tell  us  the  tale,"  said  Huntly. 
"  Why  it's  long,  Bosson,  and   wc  haint 
got  time  to  throw  away — so  I'll  hev  to  let 


it  slide,  I'm  thinkin.  Howsomever,  I'll 
gin  ye  the  gist  on't,  and  I  spose  that'll  do 
as  well.  That  creek  you  see  yondtr's 
bin  called  Cotton's  Creek  ever  sence  that 
time,  and  the  reason  on't  is,  case  a  power- 
ful good  chap  called  Jim  Cotton,  or 
'Snake-Eye,'  got  rubbed  out  thar  by  the 
cussed  Pawnees.  Me  and  him,  and  Jake 
Strader,  and  Sigh  Davis,  had  bin  down  to 
St.  Louey,  and  sold  our  beavers  to  the 
Nor-Westers*,  (and  them  was  the  days 
when  they  fetched  somethin — five  dollar  a 
plew,f  old  or  young  uns,  instead  o'a  dol- 
lar a  pound — augh!)  and  coming  out  to  In- 
dependence with  the  'rocks'  in  our  pock- 
ets, we  got  on  a  regular  spree,  and  spent 
a  few — but  not  all — and  a  infernal  Grea- 
serj  somehow  gittin  wind  on't,  and  find- 
ing out  jest  which  way  we's  agoin,put  out 
ahead,  and  got  some  .five  or  six  Pawnees 
to  jine  him,  and  come  down  here  to  ca- 
che ^  for  us. 

"  Well  in  course  we  wasn't  thinkin  o' 
nothia  dangerous,  case  our  bottles  warn't 
all  emptied,  and  we  felt  happy  enough. — 
Jest  down  here  we  stopped  to  water  and 
rest  like  we're  doin  now,  when  ail  at  once 
that'  ar  bush  you  see  yonder  near  the  bank 
let  out  seven  bullets  right  among  us.  Jim 
Cotton  was  throwed  cold,  and  never  kick- 
ed arter,  poor  feller!  Jaka  Strader  got  his 
arm  broke,  Sigh  Davis  a  ball  through  his 
shoulder,  and  me  one  riy:ht  into  my  calf. 
Then  thinkin  they  throwed  the  majority, 
the  ondacious  skunks  come  tearin  and  yell- 
in  like  sin,  old  Greaser  on  the  lead.  A 
part  broke  for  us,  and  the  rest  for  our  ani- 
mals, so  as  ef  they  didn't  '  count  a  coup' 
they  could  put  us  '  afoot.' 

'"Heyars  hair,  and  a  chance  for  dry 
powder — gin  'em  h — !' scz  I;  and  I  ups 
with  old  Sweetlove,  and  throwed  old  Grea- 
ser cold,  right  in  his  tracks — so  cold  he 
never  knowed  what  made  meat  of  him, 
Greaser  didn't. 

"  Well,  jest  as  mine  went  I  hecrd  two 
more  pops,  and  blow  me  for  a  liar  ef  two 
more  of  the rasca's  didn't  d:ap  purty  ! 


*riudson  Bay  Ct  mpr.ny  is  romeimes  eo  called 
by  the  trappers. 

t  Pluie— a  whole  skin, 
t  Spaniard  or  Mexican. 
^  Hide— from  cacher. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  TN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


43 


How  they'd  done  it — specially  Jake  Stra- 
der  with  his  broken  arm — got  me  all  of  a 
heap;  but  done  it  they  had,  sartin  as  win- 
kin;  and  thar  the  varmints  lay,  a-kickin 
like  darnation.  Now  thar  was  only  four 
left,  and  grabbin  Jim  Cotton's  rifle,  afore 
they  knowed  what  I  was  about,  I  laid  an- 
other han'some.  Now  we  was  even,  and 
I  hollered  to  the  skunks  to  come  on  and 
show  fair  fight,  and  I'd  eyther  lick  the 
three  or  gin  'em  my  sea'  p.  But  they  hadn't 
no  notion  o'  tryin  on't,  the  cowards!  but 
turned  and  '  split'  as  ef  the  arth  was  agoin 
to  swaller  'em. 

"  '  Hurraw  for  us  beavers!'  I  sez;  '  and  let 
us  go  hair-raisin;'  and  with  that  T  takes 
my  butcher  and  walks  into  the  varmints; 
and  them  as  wasn't  dead  I  carved;  and  ar- 
ter  I'd  done,  me  and  Sigh — for  Jake  couldn't 
work  well — we  hove  the  moat  into  the  wa- 
ter, christening  it  Cotton's  Creek;  then 
we  dug  a  hole  nigh  'bout  whar  you're 
standin,  put  in  poor  Jim,  kivered  him  over, 
and  jest  as  we  was,  all  wounded,  we  mount- 
ed our  critters  and  put  out." 

"  And  do  ye  think  there  i?,  maybe,  iny 
of  the  likes  of  thim  rid  divils  about  here 
now,  pure,  Misther  Trapper  George]"  in- 
quired Teddy,  with  an  uneasy  look. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,  hoss;  for  we're  ago- 
in right  toward  'em." 

"  Faith,  thin,"  said  Teddy,  turning 
slightly  pale,  "  myybe  it's  the  wrong  road 
ye're  going  now!" 

"  O,  ye  needn't  fear  I'll  miss  the  track," 
answered  the  old  hunter,  who  put  a  literal 
construi'tion  on  the  Irishman's  words.  "  I 
know  the  ground  asv/ell  as  you  know  your 
own  daddy." 

"  Agh!  andwell  ye  may,  Misther  George, 
and  have  little  to  brag  on  the  whiles,  jist," 
rejoined  the  other  quickly.  "  But  what  I 
naan  is,  it's  maybe  if  we  take  anither  way, 
we'll  not  rin  among  the  divils  and  git 
made  maat  of  as  ye  calls  it,  now." 

"  Why,  Teddy,"  said  I, "you  are  not  be- 
coming alarmed  at  this  stage  of  the  jour- 
ney I  hope!" 

"  Och,  no!  it's  not  alar-r-med  meself  is 
gittin  at  all,  at  all,  barring  a  little  fright 
maybe  I  has  for  your  honor's  safety." 

"  O,  never  mind  me,  Teddy,"  I  replied. 
"  I  assure  you  I  am  doing  very  weU,  and 


of  course  prepared  myself  to  run  all  haz- 
ards before  I  came  here." 

"  Well,"  observed  Huntly,  "  I  think  we 
had  better  set  forward  again,  and  select 
our  camp  early." 

"  That's  a  fact,"  cried  Black  George, 
springing  to  his  feet  with  the  agility  of  a 
youth  of  twenty:  "You  is  right,  boy — 
right.  Come,  Tom,  we's  a-goin  to  put;" 
and  he  turned  toward  his  saddle  mule. — 
"Hey!  what!"  he  exclaimed  suddenly, 
with  a  stress  upon  the  words  that  instant- 
ly brought  us  all  round  him,  eager  to  learn 
the  cause. 

But  nothing  could  we  discover, save  that 
the  old  mule  alluded  to  was  snuffing  the 
air,  with  her  ears  bent  forward  and  point- 
ing steadily  in  one  direction.  Two  or 
three  words,  however,  from  the  old  trap- 
per, sufficed  to  enlighten  and  alarm  us  at 
the  same  time. 

"  Injuis,  boys — rifles  ready — Suke's  no 
liar."  Tht-n  turning  to  Tom,  who  had 
also  started  to  his  feet  on  hearing  the  first 
exclamation  of  Black  George,  he  added: 
"  Split  for  cover,  Tom,  and  hunt  for '  sign.' " 

Scarcely  was  the  sentence  out  of  the 
old  man's  mouth, ere  Tom  was  outof  sight; 
for  understanding  all  at  a  glance,  he  had 
turned  at  the  first  word,  and,  leaping  across 
the  stream,  disappeared  in  a  thicket  on  the 
other  side. 

I  felt  queer,  I  must  own,  for  it  was  the 
first  time  that  danger  had  become  appa- 
rent to  me;  and  this  being  concealed,  I 
knew  not  what  to  expect,  and  of  course 
magnified  it  considerably.  Besides,  the 
story  I  had  just  heard,  together  with  the 
quick  and  decisive  movements  of  the  trap- 
pers, led  me  to  anticipate  a  sudden  onset 
from  a  large  body  of  Indians.  Determin- 
ed to  sell  my  life  dearly,  I  grasped  my  rifle 
in  one  hand,  and  loosened  my  pistols  and 
knife  with  the  other.  I  cast  a  quick  glance 
upon  Huntly,  and  saw  that  he  was  alse 
prepared  for  the  worst.  His  features  had 
paled  a  little,  his  brow  was  slightly  wrin- 
kled, and  his  lips  compressed,  showing  a 
stern  resolve.  But  the  Irishman,  in  spite 
of  my  fears,  amused  me.  Instead  of 
bringing  up  his  rifle  ready  for  an  aim,  Ted- 
dy had  griped  it  midway,  and  was  whirl- 
ing it  over  his  head  as  he  would  a  sheia- 


44 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


lah,  the  while  raising  firSt  one  foot  and 
then  the  other  in  great  excitement,  as  if 
treading  on  live  coals,  his  face  flushed, 
his  eyes  fixed  in  one  direction,  his  nostrils 
expanded,  and  his  breast  heaving  with  hard 
breathing. 

"Quick!"  exclaimed  Black  George; 
"  fetch  round  the  animals,  and  make  a 
oreast-work  to  cover." 

Instantly  Huntly  and  I  sprang  to  our 
horses,  and  the  old  trapper  to  his  mules, 
while  the  Irishman,  heeding  nothing  that 
was  said,  still  continued  his  laborious  gy- 
rations. In  less  than  a  minute  the  ani- 
mals were  arranged  in  our  front,  and  we 
were  repriming  our  fire-weapons,  and  pre- 
paring to  repel  the  attack  manfully,  should 
one  be  made.  A  minute  of  silence  suc- 
ceeded, when  Black  George  cried  out  to 
Teddy: 

"  D'ye  want  to  be  made  meat  on,  you 
thunderin  fool!  that  you  stand  thar  like  a 
monkey  target?" 

But  the  Hibernian  either  did  not  hear, 
or,  hearing,  did  not  heed. 
"  Teddy,"  I  shouted. 
"Here,  your  honor!"  answered  Teddy, 
running  up  and  crawling  under  my  horse, 
he  having  been  standing  outside  of  our 
animal  breast-work. 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  there,  Ted- 
dy?" 
"  Troth,  I  was  gitting  my  hand  in,  jist." 
"  Yes,  and  you  might  hev  got  a  bullet  in 
your  meat-bag,"  rejoined  the  old  trapper, 
dryly. 

"Ah!"  said  Teddy,  dolefully,  "  if  ye'l! 
belave  me  now,  it's  that  same  doings  that 
wories  meselt  the  most  in  this  kind  of 
fighting.  Barring  the  shooting  and  the 
danger  attinding  it,  it's  me  mother's  son 
as  wouldn't  mind  fighting  at  all,  at  all." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  such  heroes 
in  the  world,"  I  rejoined,  with  a  smile; 
"  and  most  men  are  brave  when  there  is 
no  danger.  But  I'll  exonerate  you  from 
being  a  coward,  Teddy,  for  you  once  nobly 
saved  my  life;  but  at  the  same  time  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  give  you  a  few  less- 
ons when  this  affair  is  over,  so  that  you 
will  be  able  to  act  becomingly,  under  like 
circumstances,  and  know  the  proper  use 
of  your  rifle." 


"  Hist!"  said  Black  George  at  this  mo- 
ment. 

All  became  a  dead  silence.  Presently 
the  faint  cawing  of  a  distant  crow  was 
heard  in  the  wood  nearest  us. 

"Injinsign — but  no  sudden  dash,"  ob- 
served the  old  trapper  again. 

"Indeed!"  I  exclaimed, in  surprise;  "and 
pray  how  came  you  by  your  information]" 
'•  Jest  as  easy  as  you  ken  look  at  pot- 
hooks and  tell  what  they  sez,"  answered 
the  mountaineer.  "  You  know  how  to 
read  a  heap  in  books;  I  know  how  to  read 
the  sign  o'  nater;  and  both  is  good  in  thar 
places.  You  heerd  that  crow,  I'm  think- 
in!" 

"  I  did." 

"  Well  that  was  Darin  Tom  speakin  to 
me,  and  tellin  me  what  I  told  you." 

Ere  I  had  time  to  express  my  surprise, 
the  person  in  question  made  his  appear- 
ance, leaping  nimbly  across  the  little 
creek,  and  gliding  up  to  us  as  silently  as 
an  Indian. 

"  What's  the  sign  ?"  asked  Black  George. 

"  Pawnees,"  was  the  answer. 

"  How'd  they  number,  and  which  way?" 

"  Twenty  odd,  and  toward  the  solhe." 

"  Arter  hair?" 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Be  apt  to  trouble  us?" 

"  Think  they  passed  with  thar  eyes 
shut." 

"  Play  in  possum  maybe.  How  long 
gone!" 

"  Less  nor  a  quarter." 

"  Then  Suke  must  hev  smelt  'em.  She's 
a  knowin  one,  is  Suke,  and  don't  fool  her 
time.  Spect  we'd  better  put  out  and  look 
for  camp?" 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Augh!" 

Although  this  kind  of  dialogue  ^as  new 
to  me,  I  nevertheless  was  able  to  under- 
stand that  a  body  of  Pawnees  had  passed 
us,  and  was  either  not  aware  of  our  prox- 
imity, or  did  not  care  to  make  an  attack 
upon  us  in  broad  daylight.  As  the  moun- 
taineers concluded,  they  instantly  mounted 
their  mules  and  set  forward;  and  springing 
upon  our  horses,  we  kept  them  company. 
As  we  left  the  little  cove — if  I  may  so 
term  it — by  way  of  the  prairie,  we  were 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


45 


surprised  to  meet  Fiery  Ned  and   Rash 
Will  on  their  return  to  join  us. 

"  Well]"  said  Black  George,  interroga- 
tively. 
"  Injins,"  returned  Rash  Will. 
"  Ahead  or  ahind!" 
"Moccasins  to  the  sothe." 
"  We've  seed  'em — augh!" 
No  more  was  said;  but  wheeling  their 
animals,   the   two   mountaineers   silently 
joined  the  cavallada,  and  we   all   moved 
forward  together. 

The  country  over  which  we  were  now 
passing,  was  exceedingly  beautiful  .and 
picturesque.  Alternately  well  timbered 
bottoms — steep,  craggy,  barren  bluffs — 
open, rolling  prairies — metourvievv;  while 
sparkling  little  streams,  winding  around  in 
every  direction,  appeared  like  silver  threads 
fastening  the  whole  together. 

On  our  way  hither,  we  had  passed  through 
Independence,  one  of  the  most  important 
points  in  Missouri  for  obtaining  an  outfit, 
avid  taking  much  the  same  route  as  that 
now  followed  by  Oregon  emigrants,  had 
crossed  the  Caw  or  Kansas  river  a  day  or 
two  previous  to  our  camp  on  the  prairie, 
of  which  I  have  given  a  description.  Al- 
though this,  as  I  then  said,  was  our  first 
camp  on  the  prairie,  I  wish  the  reader  to 
distinctly  understand  it  was  not  our  first 
encampment  beyond  the  boundaries  of  civi- 
lization, But  as  I  did  not  care  to  trouble 
him  with  a  tedious  journey,  which  produced 
no  important  incident,  I  jumped  over  our 
progress  to  the  time  when  I  felt  our  adven- 
tures had  really  begun.  I  say  this  in 
explanation,  lest  having  travelled  the 
route  himself,  he  might  be  puzzled  to  un- 
derstand how,  in  so  short  a  time  from  the 
raising  of  our  camp,  we  could  have  be- 
come so  far  advanced. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  June,  and  the 
sun  poured  down  his  heat  with  gi-eat  in- 
tensity, so  that  our  animals  perspired  free- 
ly, and  seemed  far  more  inclined  to  linger 
in  the  shade  when  we  passed  a  timbered 
spot,  than  to  hurry  forward  in  the  open 
sunshine.  Nevertheless  we  managed,  be- 
fore the  sun  sunk  to  rest,  to  put  a  good 
thirty  miles  between  us  and  our  camp  of 
the  previous  evening.  Reaching  at  last  a 
smooth,  pleasant  spot — belted  with  hills, 


not  unlike  the  one  of  our  noonday  h'alt, 
through  which  likewise  murmured  and  spar- 
kled a  little  rivulet — we  paused  and  decid- 
ed to  camp  at  once.  In  a  few  minutes  our 
animals  were  hobbled,  and  regaling  them- 
selves with  great  gusto  upon  the  sweet, 
green  blade  which  here  grew  exuberantly. 
"  Somebody'll  hev  to  stand  sentinel  to- 
night," observed  Black  George,  as  we  seat- 
ed ourselves  around  the  fire,  which  had 
been  kindled  for  the  purpose  of  toasting 
our  meat,  and  keeping  off"  the  wild  beasts, 
"Who's  agoin  to  claim  the  privilege!" 

No  one  answered;  but  the  other  trap- 
pers all  looked  toward  Huntly  and  myself, 
which  I  was  not  slow  to  understand 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  to- 
niglit]"  I  inquired. 

"  Thar's  never  a  time  in  this  part  of  the 
world  when  thar  isn't,  stranger,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  But  do  you  apprehend  an  attack  from 
the  savages  to-night?" 

"Maybe,  and  maybe  not;  but  you  know 
what  hap'd  to-day,  and  thar's  sign  about, 
clear  as  mud." 

"Well,  if  you  think  I  will  answer  the 
purpose,  I  am  ready  to  volunteer  my  ser- 
vices." 

The  old  trapper  mused  a  moment,  shook 
his  head,  and  replied: 

"  I'm  feared  not.  I'll  keep  guard  my- 
self; for  you  be  young,  and  mightn't  know 
a  Iiijin  from  a  tree;  and  it's  like  thar'll  be 
powder  burnt  afore  mornin." 

Although  these  words  portended  danger, 
yet  so  fatigued  was  I  from  my  day's  travel, 
that  in  less  than  two  hours  from  the  time 
they  were  spoken,  in  common  with  the 
rest — Black  George  excepted,  who,  pipe 
in  mouth,  and  rifle  in  hand,  remained 
squatted  before  the  fire — I  was  sound 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PAINFUL  DKEAM — ATTACK  FROM  THE  PAW- 
NEES  ALARM TREEING COWARDICE 

OF  THE  WESTERN  INDIANS COLD-BLOOD- 
ED MUTILATION — COOLNESS  AND  VALOR  OF 
THE  MOUNTAINEERS. 

I  was  once  more  in  my  native  land. — 


45 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


Time  had  floxvn  rapidly,  years  had  rolled 
onward,  thousands  on  thousands  of  miles 
had  been  gone  over,  and  now  I  stood  in 
the  city  of  my  nativity.  Strange  and  pow- 
erful emotions  stirred  me.  I  was  wending 
my  way  through  the  old  and  well  remem- 
bered streets  to  the  home  of  one  who  had 
been  daily  and  nightly  in  my  thoughts  du- 
ring my  long  absence.  I  already  pictured 
myself  entering  her  abode,  and  the  start 
and  thrill  of  joyful  surprise  on  her  behold- 
ing me  again.  At  length  I  reached  the 
well  known  mansion.  There  it  stood,  just 
as  I  had  left  it.  There  were  the  same 
steps  I  had  ascended,  and  the  bell  I  had 
rung  on  the  night  when  I  had  so  abruptly 
and  cruelly  torn  myself  from  her  sweet 
presence.  I  felt  a  nervous  tremor  run 
through  my  whole  system.  I  could  scarce- 
ly stand.  My  heart  seemed  to  shrink  into 
nothing,  my  blood  began  to  curdle  in  my 
veins,  and  my  quaking  limbs  refused  to  do 
my  bidding.  There  I  stood,  shaking  like 
an  aspen  leaf,  afraid  to  go  forward,  unwill- 
ing to  retreat.  At  length,  by  a  great  ef- 
fort, I  grew  more  calm.  With  a  fresh  de- 
termination not  to  be  conquered  by  my- 
self, I  rushed  up  the  steps  and  rang  the 
bell.  A  servant  appeared.  But  he  was 
not  the  one  I  had  expected  to  behold;  not 
the  one  that  had  answered  my  former  sum- 
mons; his  face  was  new  to  me.  This  was 
a  change,  it  is  true,  and  produced  some 
very  unpleasant  feelings ;  but  this  was 
a  common  one,  and  nothing  to  alarm 
me. 

"  Is  Miss  Huntly  at  home]"  I  inquired. 

"  Miss  Huntly  don't  live  here,  sir." 

"  What!"  cried  I,  gasping  for  breath, 
"  not  live  herel" 

"  No,  sir!  this  is  Mr.  Wharton's  house." 

"Wharton!  Yes,  well,  he — he — is — 
narried]" 

"  Yes,  sir,  he's  married." 

"  Who  did  he  marry!" 

"  Don't  know,  sir." 

"  Was  it— a— Lilian  Huntly]" 

"No  indeed,  I  guess  it  wasn't.  He 
wouldn't  look  at  her,  I  know." 

"  Not  look  at  her,  villain!  why  not]" 
and,  excited  beyond  reason,  I  seized  my 
informant  by  the  collar.  "  Why  would  he 
not  look  at  her,  wretch]"  I  repeated,  hoarse- 


ly. "  Tell  me  quickly,  or  I  will  dash  your 
brains  out  at  my  feet!" 

"  Ca-cause  she's  poor,"  was  the  trem- 
bling reply. 

"  Poor]"  I  shouted. 

"  Ye-yes,  sir." 

".And  where  is  she  to  be  found]" 

"  Just  round  that  alley  yonder — first  door 
on  the  left." 

I  followed  with  my  eyes  the  direction 
indicated  by  the  finger  of  my  informant, 
and  the  next  moment  found  the  door  slam- 
med in  my  fdce.  But  for  this  I  cared  not. 
Lilian  was  in  trouble.  With  one  bound  i 
cleared  the  steps,  and  darting  down  the 
street,  turned  the  corner  of  the  alley, 
and  stood  before  a  miserable  wooden 
house. 

"Great  God!"  I  cried,  mentally,  "the 
home  of  Lilian, dear  Lilian!"  and  the  next 
moment,  without  pausing  to  knock,  I  burst 
open  the  door  and  entered  a  miserable 
apartment,  scantily  furnished. 

The  first  object  that  fixed  my  attention 
was  sweet  Lilian  herself;  but  oh!  how  al- 
tered! how  pale!  how  wo-begone  her  look! 
Her  dress  and  appearance  bespoke  pover- 
ty and  suffering,  and  chilled  my  blood. 

"  Lilian!"  I  cried,  rushing  towards  her 
with  outstretched  arms. 

She  rose — stared  at  me — a  frightful  ex- 
pression swept  over  her  pale,  grief-worn, 
but  still  lovely  features — she  struggled  for- 
ward— gasped — and,  uttering  my  name, 
with  a  terrible  shriek,  sunk  senseless  into 
my  arms. 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  burst 
rudely  open,  and  Wharton,  with  eyea 
gleaming  fire,  pistol  in  hand,  rushed  into 
the  apartment.  Ere  I  had  time  for  thought, 
the  pistol  flashed,  the  report  rang  in  my 
ears,  and  the  ball  buried  itself  in  the  head 
of  my  beloved  Lilian.  With  a  shriek  of 
horror,  I  dropped  her  lifeless  body,  and — 
awole. 

I  looked  up,  and  saw  Huntly  bending 
over  me,  and  heard  a  confined  noise,  the 
discharge  of  firearms,  and,  rising  above  all 
the  din,  the  yells  of  savages. 

"Awake,  Frank! — up — for  God's  sake! 
— we  are  attacked!"  cried  Huntly. 

Instantly  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  complete* 
ly  bewildered. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


47 


"Tree,  tree,  or  you're  dead  nigger!" 
shouted  a  voice  behind  me. 

I  turned  around,  but  was  still  too  much 
confused  to  understand  what  was  meant. 
The  next  moment  Huntly  seized  me  by  the 
arm,  and  hurriedly  dragging  me  to  a  neigh- 
boring tree,  thrust  me  behind  it  on  the  side 
farthest  from  the  fire.  I  had  cause  to  be 
thankful  for  this;  for  as  I  moved  from  the 
spot  whore  I  had  stood,  a  ball  whizzed  past 
me,  which,  had  it  been  sped  a  second  soon- 
er, had  doubtless  proved  fatal. 

I  now  learned,  from  a  few  hurried  words 
spoken  by  my  friend,  that  the  Indians — 
supposed  to  be  Pawnees,  and,  in  fact,  the 
same  party  which  had  alarmed  us  at  Cot- 
ton's Creek — had  made  a  sudden  dash  at 
our  animals,  which  were  picketed  within 
pistol  shot  of  the  fire,  and,  with  loud  yells, 
had  discharged  their  pieces  and  arrows  into 
our  camp,  fortunately  without  doing  us 
any  injury.  In  a  moment  every  one  was 
on  his  feet,  with  the  exception  of  myself, 
who,  as  the  reader  knows,  was  lost  in  the 
mazes  of  a  troublesome  dream,  and  had 
actually  converted  the  screeches  of  the 
savages  into  cries  from  Lilian,  and  the  re- 
port of  firearms  into  the  fatal  shot  from 
the  pistol  of  one  I  had  looked  upon  as  a 
rival.  Each  of  the  trappers  had  hurriedly 
sought  his  tree,  while  the  Irishman,  though 
a  good  deal  bewildered,  had  had  presence 
of  mind  and  good  sense  enough  to  imitate 
their  example.  Huntly  of  course  could 
not  leave  me  to  perish,  and  had  paused  to 
rouse  me  in  the  manner  shown. 

By  this  time  all  had  become  silent  as 
the  grave.  Our  camp  fire  was  still  burn- 
ing brightly,  and  by  its  light  we  could  trace 
a  large  circle  round  it;  but  not  an  object, 
save  our  animals — some  of  which,  particu- 
larly the  mules,  snuffed  and  snorted,  and 
appeared  very  restless — was  seen  to  stir. 
One  would  suppose,  to  have  gazed  around 
him  in  tiiat  warm,  still  night,  that  not  a 
creature  more  dangerous  than  the  fire- fly 
and  musquito  was  at  hand,  to  disturb  the 
now  seemingly  deep  and  solemn  solitude 
of  the  place.  In  this  way  some  two  or 
three  minutes  passed,  during  which  you 
could  have  heard  the  fall  of  a  leaf,  when 
suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the 
report  of  a  rifle  within  twenty  feet  of  me, 


and  was  succeeded  by  a  yell  of  agony  some 
thirty  paces  distant  in  another  direction, 
while  an  Indian,  whom  I  had  not  before 
observed,  staggered  forward,  and  fell  with- 
in the  circle  lighted  by  the  fire. 

Now  it  was,  as  if  the  whole  wilderness^ 
were  full  of  demons,  that  the  most  terrific 
yells  resounded  on  all  sides,  and  some  fif- 
teen or  twenty  savages,  naked  all  but  the 
breech-clout,  hideously  painted,  were  seen 
dodging  among  the  scattering  trees,  malt- 
ing toward  us,  and  discharging  their  muE- 
kets  and  bows  at  random.  A  bullet  strik- 
ing the  stock  of  my  rifle  just  above  where 
my  hand  grasped  it,  splintering  it,  and 
sending  some  of  thp  pieces  into  my  face, 
maddened  me  not  a  little;  and  I  vowed 
revenge  upon  the  first  savage  I  could  lay 
eyes  on. 

"  Give  the  skunks  h — !"  shouted  a  voice; 
and  ere  the  v.'ords  were  fairly  uttered,  some 
three  or  four  rifles  belched  forth  their  deadly 
contents,  and  three  more  savages  rolled 
howling  in  the  dust. 

At  this  moment  I  discovered  a  powerful 
Indian  making  toward  me,  not  ten  feet  dis- 
tant, his  basilisk  eyes  fairly  shining  like 
two  coals  of  fire;  and  raising  my  rifle 
quick  as  lightning  to  my  face,  without 
pausing  even  to  sight  it,  I  lodged  the  con- 
tents in  his  body.  He  staggered  back, 
partly  turned  to  fly,  reeled,  and  then  with 
a  howl  of  rage  fell  to  the  earth  a  corpse. 

The  Indians  of  the  Far  West  of  the 
present  day,  are  not  the  Indians  of  former 
times,  whose  wigwam  j  once  rose  where 
now  stand  our  cities  and  hamlets,  and 
whose  daring  in  war,  when  led  by  a  Phil- 
lip, a  Pontiac,  or  a  Tecumsah,  could  only 
be  excelled  by  their  cunning  and  ferocity. 
No!  far  from  it.  The  present  tribes  have 
degenerated  wonderfully.  They  are,  take 
them  as  a  whole,  a  dirty,  cowardly,  despi- 
cable set,  without  one  noble  trait,  and  not 
worth  the  powder  it  takes  to  kill  them. — 
They  will  attack  you,  it  is  true:  but  then 
they  must  trebble  you  in  numbers;  and  if 
they  fail  in  killing  or  completely  overpow- 
ering you  at  the  onset,  ten  to  one  but  they 
will  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and  leave  you 
master  of  the  field. 

Of  such  dastardly  wretches  was  com- 
posed the  party  which  had  assailed  us. — 


48 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


Although  vastly  superior  to  us  in  numbers,  ] 
f  liey  now  seemed  completely  thunderstruck 
ut  the  result  of  an  attack  which,  doubtless, 
1  hey  had  counted  on  as  certain  victory. — 
Five  of  their  party  had  already  bitten  the 
dust,  and  yet  not  one  of  us  had  been  touch- 
ed. Notwithstanding  this,  even,  had  they 
possessed  one  half  the  courage  and  daring 
of  their  eastern  forefathers,  they  might  to 
all  appearance  have  annihilated  us.  But 
n.o!  they  dared  not  longer  fight  for  victory. 
Ijike  frightened  poltroons,  as  they  were, 
!  liey  wavered  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as 
Iheir  last  hope,  made  a  "break"  for  our 
animals,  with  the  intention  of  seizing  and 
making  off  with  them,  and  thus  leaving  us 
to  foot  our  long  journey.  But  even  in  this 
they  failed,  through  their  own  cowardice; 
for  comprehending  their  intent,  the  trap- 
pers, with  yells  as  savage  as  their  own, 
sprang  from  their  trees,  and  rushing  to- 
ward them,  tliey  instantly  abandoned  their 
'iesrgn».,iuid-again  most  ingloriously  fled. 

Two  of  our  party,  however.  Fiery  Ned 
nnd  Rash  Will,  were  far  from  being  satis- 
Jied  with  even  this  victory.  Maddened 
with  rage,  and  a  desire  of  farther  revenge, 
^hey  actually  leaped  onward  after  the  fu- 
itives,  and  quickly  disappeared  from  our 
'.ew.  For  a  time  we  could  hear  them 
t^houting  and  yelling;  but  gradually  the 
sounds  grew  fainter  and  more  faint,  until 
at  last  nothing  whatever  could  be  heard. 

"  The  infernal  skunks!"  said  Black 
George,  stepping  out  from  behind  his  tree, 
and  giving  vent  to  a  quiet,  inward  laugh, 
]->eculiar  to  men  of  his  profession.  "  Reck- 
iin  they'll  stay  put  a  few,  and  not  trouble 
lis  agin  in  a  hurry;"  and  again  he  laughed 
as  before.  "  But  what  fools  Ned  and  Will 
IS?  They're  never  content  with  a  fair 
whip,  but  must  al'ays  betryin  to  do  a  heap 
more;  and  some  day  they'll  git  thar  hair 
raised  and  go  under  with  a  vengeance,  or 
I'm  no  sinner.     But  I  say,  Tom!" 

'•  Well,  hossi" 

"  Didn't  we  throw  'em  purtyl" 
,  '•  Well  we  did,  old  coon." 

"  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  we  'didn't.  Come, 
let's  lift  thar  hair — augh!" 

With  this,  both  trappers  drew  their 
knives,  and  taking  from  a  little  bag  at- 
tached to  their  garments  a  small  sand- 


stone, commenced  sharpening  them  with 
as  much  indifference  as  if  they  were  about 
to  slice  a  buffalo,  rather  than  dip  them  in 
the  blood  of  human  beings.  When  done, 
their  whetstones  were  carefully  replaced, 
and  then  turning  to  me,  who  with  Hunt- 
ly  and  Teddy  had  meantime  gathered 
around  the  two,  the  old  mountaineer  said: 

"Boy,  you've  done  somethin  for  the  fust 
time,  and  needn't  be  ashamed  on't.  Throw- 
ed  him  cold  in  his  tracks,  I'll  be  dog-gone 
ef  you  didn't!"  and  he  nodded  toward  the 
Indian  I  had  slain.  "  Well,  he's  your  meat; 
and  so  at  him  and  raise  his  top-knot  afore 
he  gits  cold." 

I  shuddered  at  the  bare  thought  of  such 
barbarity,  and  involuntarily  shrunk  back. 

"  O,  then  you're  a  leetle  squeamish,  hey! 
Well  I've  heern  tell  o'  sich  things  afore; 
but  it  won't  last  long,  Bosson,  take  my 
word  for't.  Ef  you  don't  raise  hair  afore 
you're  a  thousand  year  older,  jest  call  me 
a  liar  and  stop  off  my  bacca."     # 

"  No!"  I  replied,  firmly:  "  I  could  never 
be  brought  to  degrade  myself  by  a  custom 
which  originated  with,  and  if  it  must  still 
be  practiced  should  ever  belong  to,  the 
savage.  I  may  kill  an  Indian  in  my  own 
defence,  but  I  cannot  mutilate  him  when 
dead.  I  was  bred  in  a  very  different 
school." 

"Bread, be !" returned  Black  George, 

not  comprehending  my  meaning.  "  This 
here  ain't  bread — it's  meat;  and  as  to 
skule,  as  you  calls  it,  why  that  ar  belongs 
to  the  settlements;  and  haint  got  nothin 
to  do  out  hereaways  in  Ih^  woods.  Eh! 
Tom?" 

"Well  it  haint." 

"  No,  I'll  be  rumfuzzled  ef  it  hev!  And 
so,  stranger,  of  you  want  to  show  you're 
smart  aheap,  you'll  jest  lift  that  ar  skunk's 
hair  and  say  no  more  about  it.  Eb! 
Tom?" 

"Fact! — augh!" 

"No!"  I  rejoined  in  a  decisive  tone,  "  I 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you 
choose  to  scalp  the  Indian,  that  is  no  busi- 
ness of  mine;  but  I  will  not  so  degrade 
myself." 

"  Well,  ef  your  mind's  made  up,  in 
course  it's  no  use  o'  talkin;  and  so,  Tom, 
let's  begin  to  slice." 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


49 


At  this  moment  we  heard  the  report 
of  a  distant  rifle,  quickly  followed  by  an- 
other. 

"  Them  boys  is  eyther  throwed  now,  or 
else  some  Injins  hev  got  rubbed  out,"  ob- 
served Black  George,  indifferently.  "  Come, 
Tom,  let's  lift." 

Saying  this,  the  old  trapper  and  his 
companion  set  about  their  bloody  work. 
The  first  Indian  they  came  to  was  not 
dead;  and  running  his  knife  into  his  heart, 
with  a  barbarous  coolness  that  made  me 
shudder.  Black  George  observed: 

"  That's  your  meat,  Tom." 
^——He  then  passed  on,  leaving  the  latter  to 
finish  the  bloody  task.  Bending  over  the 
now  dead  savage,  and  seizing  him  by  the 
hair  of  the  head — which,  instead  of  a  long 
lock  or  cue  as  worn  by  some  tribes,  was 
short  and  ridged,  like  the  comb  of  a  fowl — 
Daring  Tom  ran  his  knife  round  the  skull- 
bone  with  a  scientific  flourish,  tore  oflT  the 
scalp,  and  knocking  it  on  the  ground  to 
free  it  as  much  as  possible  of  gouts  of 
blood,  coolly  attached  it  to  his  girdle,  and 
proceeded  to  the  next. 
—  "What  a  horrid  custom!"  I  exclaimed, 
turning  to  Huntly. 

"  It  is,  truly,"  he  replied.  "  But  then 
you  know,  Frank,  it  is  one  that  belongs  to 
the  Indian  and  mountaineer;  and  as  we 
have  come  among  them  voluntariiy,  we 
have  no  right  of  course  to  quarrel  with 
them  for  it." 

"Be  jabers!"  cried  Teddy,  "is  it  mur- 
thering  the  Injins  twice  they  is,  now,  your 
honors]" 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  replied  Huntly,  with 
a  smile. 

"  Faith,  and  your  honor,  and  it's  meself 
as  thinks  they  naad  it,  sure,  the  blathering 
spalpeens,  to  be  coming  round  us  paceable 
citizins  wid  their  nonsense,  and  cuthing 
our  troats.  Och!  if  I'd  a  knowed  how  to 
lit  ofl"  this  bothersome  article,  (holding 
up  his  rifle)  I'd  a  killed  a  dozen  o'  the 
baastly  crathurs,  I  would." 

"  Why,  Teddy,"  I  rejoined,  "  I  thought 
you  knew  how  to  shoot  a  rifle ! — at  least 
you  told  us  so." 

Teddy  scratched  his  head,  and  put  on  a 
very  comical  look,  as  he  replied: 

"  Yes,  but  ye  sae,  your  honor,  it  was  an 


Irish  rifle  I  was  spaking  of,  barring  that  it 
wasn't  made  in  Ireland  at  all,  at  all,  but  in 
France,  jist." 

"  But  I  thought  they  did  not  allow  you 
to  use  rifles  in  Ireland,  Teddy]" 

"  No  more  they  don't;  but  thin,  ye  sae, 
it  isn't  sich  murthering  things  as  this  now 
they  uses." 
"  What  then]" 

"  Why,  I  most  forgit  meself,"  returned 
the  Irishman,  with  a  perplexed  look,  again 
scratching  his  head.  "Och!  now  I  come 
to  think  on't,  I  belave  it  shot  Avid  a  long 
stick,  and  that  it  wasn't  meself  as  shot  it 
at  all,  at  all,  but  me  mother's  father  that 
knowed  sich  things — pace  to  his  ashes." 

"  Teddy,"  I  rejoined,  assuming  a  serious 
tone  which  I  was  very  far  from  feeling,"  it 
is  evident  that  this  is  the  first  rifle  you 
ever  laid  hands  on,  and  that  the  story  you 
told  us  on  the  boat,  about  your  exploits  in 
shooting,  was  without  the  least  foundation 
whatever." 

"  Ah!  troth,  it's  like  it  maybe,"  answer- 
ed the  Hibernian,  penitently,  with  a  sigh. 
"  It's  like  it  maybe,  your  honor;  for  divil  a 
thing  else  can  me  make  out  of  it.  But  ye 
sae,  ye  questioned  me  close  now,  and  I's 
afeared  that  didn't  I  have  the  qualifica- 
tions ye  axed,  I'd  not  be  naaded;  and  as  I 
saai;  ye  was  raal  gintlemen,  and  no  blath- 
ers of  spalpeens,  it  was  going  wid  your- 
sel's  Teddy  O'Lagherty  was  afther  doing, 
if  he  towld  a  story  jist — for  which  howly 
Mary  forgive  me!" 

"  Well,  well,  Teddy,  never  mind,"  I  said, 
smiling.  "  I  will  show  you  the  use  of  the 
rifle  the  first  convenient  opportunity;  and 
so  let  what  is  past  be  forgotten." 

"Ah!"  cried  the  grateful  Irishman,  dof- 
fing his  beaver  and  making  a  low  bow,  "  I 
knowed  ye  was  gintlemen,  your  honors, 
every  inch  of  yees,  and  wouldn't  be  hard 
upon  a  poor  forlorner  like  meself." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Huntly,"  listen!"  and 
at  the  moment  we  heard  the  gloom.y  howl 
of  a  pack  of  wolves. 

"  They  already  smell  the  feast  prepared 
for  them,"  I  rejoined. 

"'  Well,  Frank,  let  us  return  to  our  camp 
fire;   for  I  see  the  trappers  have  nearly 
completed  their  unenviable  task." 
Acting  upon  his  suggestion  we  set  for- 


60 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


ward,  and  gaining  the  fire,  were  soon  join- 
ed by  Biacli  George  and  Daring  Tom,  who 
came  up  with  five  bloody  scalps  dangling 
at  their  girdles — bringing  with  them  also 
some  two  or  three  rifles,  a  fresh  supply  of 
powder  and  ball,  and  various  other  trifles 
which  they  had  taken  from  tlic  dead  In- 
dians. 

"  I  think  we  can  count  a  roup  this  heat," 
observed  the  old  mountaineer,  with  his  pe- 
culiar, quiet  laugh:  "Eh!  Tom]" 

"  We  can't  do  nothin  else,"  was  the  sat- 
iisfactory  response. 

"  I  say,  Tom,  them  wolves  smell  blood." 

"  Well  they  does." 

"  Thar's  plenty  o'  meat  for  'em,  any 
how;  and  ef  they'll  jest  foller  us,  and  thorn 
skunks  of  Pawnees  want  to  try  this  here 
over  agin,  we'll  make 'em  fat.    Eh!  Tom!" 

"Will  so-o." 

"  Yos,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  we  don't!  But 
I  say,  Tom,  alnt  it  most  time  for  Rash  and 
Fire  to  be  in]" 

"  I  reckon." 

"Hope  they  didn't  git  throwed.  It 'ud 
be  a  pity  to  hevthem  go  under  jest  now  — 
and  would  spile  all  our  sport." 

"  Well  it  would,  boss." 

"Hark!  thar  goes  a  whistle!  That's 
them,  or  I'm  a  nigger." 

"  'Taint  nobody  else,"  responded  Daring 
Tom. 

"All  right.     Augh!     Let's  smoke." 

Squatting  themselves  upon  the  ground, 
cross-legged,  the  trappers  filled  their  pipes, 
and  commenced  puffing  away  as  though 
nothing  had  happened  to  disturb  their 
equanimity.  Such  perfect  recklessness  of 
life,  such  indifference  to  danger,  I  had  nev- 
er seen  displayed  before;  and  though  I  ab- 
horred some  of  their  customs,  I  could  not 
but  admire  their  coolness  and  valor.  Their 
pense  of  hearing  I  soon  discovered  was 
far  more  acute  than  mine;  for  when  the 
old  trapper  spoke  of  the  whistle  of  his 
omrades,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me, 
detect  a  distant  sound  proceeding  from 
human  iips.  But  that  he  was  right,  was 
soon  evident;  for  in  less  than  five  minutes 
after.  Fiery  Ned  and  Rash  Will  made  their 
appearance,  and  quietly  stealing  up  to  the 
circle,  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground 
without  a  remark.     At  the  belt  of  each 


hung  a  fresh  scalp,  showing  that  two  more 
of  the  enemy  had  been  their  victims. 

For  some  time  the  two  smoked  away  in 
silence,  and  then  suggesting  to  the  others 
the  propriety  of  joining  theui,  all  (our  were 
soon  in  full  blast.  Alter  a  little,  they  be- 
gan to  talk  over  their  exploits;  and  amu- 
sing themselves  in  this  way  for  an  hour  or 
more,  one  after  another  straightened  him- 
self out  on  the  earth,  an  example  which 
Teddy  soon  imitated,  and  in  five  minutea 
all  were  lost  in  sleep. 

As  fur  Huntly  and  myself,  slumber  had 
fled  our  eyelids;  and  stirring  the  fire,  we 
seated  ourselves  at  a  litljle  distance  and 
talked  till  day  light — I  narrating  my  singular 
dream,  and  both  commenting  upon  it.  All 
night  long  we  heard  the  howling  of  the 
ravenous  wolves,  as  they  tore  the  flesh 
from  the  bones  of  our  dead  loes,  and  occa- 
sionally caught  a  gleam  of  their  fiery  eye- 
balls, when  they  ventured  nearer  than  usu- 
al to  our  camp. 


CHAPTER  X. 

JOURNEY  RESUMED — UNPLEASANT  FEELINGS 
CAMP RESTLESSNESS A  HALF  FORM- 
ED RESOLUTION THE  LONELY    WATCH 

TERRIFIC  THUNDER  STORM — PAINFUL  SE- 
PARATION— JOYFUL  MEETING — LGSS  OF 
ANIMALS SECOND  CAMP. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  we  re- 
sumed our  journey.  As  we  moved  along, 
I  beheld  the  bones  of  two  of  our  late  foes, 
basking  white  and  ghastly  in  the  sunlight, 
their  clean-licked,  shiny  skulls,  hollow 
sockets,  and  grinning  teeth  and  jaws,  fair- 
ly making  my  flesh  to  creep.  And  the 
more  so,  perhaps,  as  I  took  into  considera- 
tion that  only  a  few  hours  before,  these 
same  bones  belonged  to  animated  human 
beings;  and  that  a  mere  turn  of  the  wheel 
of  fate  might  have  placed  me  in  their  po- 
sition, they  in  mine.  Death  is  a  solemn 
thing  to  contemplate  at  any  time,  and  I  was 
now  in  a  mood  to  feel  its  terrors  in  more 
than  their  wonted  force.  My  dream,  al- 
though I  tried  to  dispel  it  as  only  a  dream, 
still  made   a  deep   impression   upon   my 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


51 


mind;  and  this,  together  with  what  occur- 
red afterwards,  and  the  remembrance  of 
the  conversation  I  had  held  with  my  friend 
the  morning  previous,  touching  Lilian,  all 
tended  to  depress  my  spirits  and  make 
me  melancholy. 

At  length,  to  rouse  me  from  my  sinking 
stupor,  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  Huntly;  but 
perceiving  that  he  too  was  deep  in  thought, 
I  did  not  disturb  hiarevery;  while  my  own 
mind  settling  back  into  itself,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  the  expression,  wandered  far 
away  to  the  past,  recalled  a  thousand  old 
scenes,  and  then  leaped  forward  to  the  fu- 
ture, and  became  perplexed  in  conjectures 
regarding  my  final  fate. 

About  noon  we  reached  the  banks  of  the 
Blue  river,  and,  as  on  the  preceding  day, 
halted  a  few  minutes  t9  rest  and  refresh 
ourselves  and  animals.  Here  I  noticed 
trees  of  oak,  ash,  walnut  and  hickory,  with 
occasioHally  one  of  cottonwood  and  wil- 
low. The  bottoms  of  this  stream  are  of- 
ten wide  and  fertile,  on  which  the  wild 
pea  vine  grows  in  abundance.  The  pea 
itself  is  somewhat  smaller  than  that  grown 
in  the  settlements,  and  can  be  used  as  ve- 
getable, its  flavor  being  agreeable. 

As  our  meat  was  now  running  short, 
Daring  Tom  observed  that  he  would  "  make 
somethin  come;"  and  setting  forth  with  his 
rifle,  soon  returned  heavily  laden  with  wild 
turkeys.  Hastily  dressing,  we  threw  them 
into  our  possible  sacks,  and  again  set  for- 
ward. 

Travelling  some  fifteen  miles  through 
woodland  and  over  prairie,  we  encamped 
at  last  in  a  beautiful  little  grove  of  ash 
and  hickory,  on  the  margin  of  a  creek  that 
flowed  into  the  Blue.  The  day  had  been 
excessively  hot  and  sultry,  and  all  of  us 
were  much  fatigued.  Starting  a  fire  as 
usual,  we  cooked  some  of  our  turkey  meat, 
and  found  it  very  delicious.  As  no  Indian 
sign  had  been  discovered  through  the  day, 
it  was  thought  unnecessary  to  set  a  guard, 
and  accordingly  we  stretched  ourselves 
upon  the  earth  around  the  fire,  and  in  a 
few  minutes,  with  the  exception  of  my- 
self, all  were  sound  asleep. 

I  could  not  rest.  I  tried  to,  but  in  vain. 
The  air  was  filled  with  rausquitoes,  and 
various  other  iasects  attracted  hither  bv 


the  fire-light)  and  they  annoyed  me  ex- 
ceedingly. This  was  not  all.  My  mind^ 
as  in  fact  it  had  been  throughout  the  day , 
was  sorely  depressed.  A  thousand  thoughts 
that  I  vainly  strove  to  banish,  obtruded 
themselves  upon  me.  In  spite  of  myself, 
I  thought  of  my  dream.  Pshaw  I  why 
should  that  trouble  mel  It  could  not  be 
true,  I  knew;  and  was  only  caused  by  the 
previous  remarks  of  Huntly,  my  excited 
feelings,  and  surrounding  circumstances. 
Still  it  came  up  in  my  mind,  as  startlingly 
as  I  had  dreamed  it;  and,  in  spite  of  my 
scoffings,  with  every  appearance  of  reali- 
ty. I  was  not  naturally  superstitious,  and 
did  not  believe  in  dreams — but  this  one 
haunted  me  as  a  foreboding  of  evil  to  her 
I  loved;  and  as  I  lay  and  meditated,  I  half 
formed  the  resolution  to  set  out  in  the 
morning  upon  my  return,  already  sick  of 
my  undertaking. 

It  is  one  thing  to  read  of  adventures  in 
others,  and  another  to  experience  them 
ourself;  and  this  I  felt,  O!  bow  keen- 
ly! To  strengthen  my  resolution,  I  pic- 
tured the  home  of  my  parents,  the  sadness 
which  I  knew  must  be  preying  upon  them 
on  account  of  my  absence,  and  the  flash 
of  joy  that  would  light  their  faces  and 
warm  their  hearts  on  beholding  their  only 
son  once  more  seated  at  their  fireside, 
never  to  depart  again  while  he  or  they 
were  blessed  with  life.  I  thought  over  al! 
this,  and  grew  stronger  in  my  new  re- 
solve; and  had  it  not  been  for  the  whim-  . 
sical  fear  of  ridicule — the  idle  jest  of  some 
coxcomb  fool,  for  whose  opinion  or  regard 
in  any  other  way  I  cared  not  a  straw — it 
is  more  than  probable  this  narrative  had 
not  been  written. 

What  a  powerful  engine  is  ridicule!  It 
is  the  battering-ram  of  the  mind,  and  will 
often  destroy  by  a  single  blow  the  mightiest 
frabric  of  reason.  It  is  used  by  fools  and 
men  whose  minds  are  too  imbecile  to  cope 
with  the  edifice  of  thought  which  towers 
above  their  limited  grasp,  and  yet  the  very 
architect  of  such  construction  fears  it,  as 
does  the  poor  red-man  the  annihilating  ar- 
tillery of  the  pale-face. 

1  lay  and  thought;  and  the  more  I 
thought,  the  more  restless  I  became.  I 
rolled  to  and  fro  in  aH  agony  of  miiid  that 


53 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


at  last  became  intolerable,  and  I  arose. 
Stealing  quietly  from  the  sleeping  circle, 
I  proceeded  to  the  creek, and  having  mois- 
tened my  parched  and  feverish  lips  and 
bathed  my  heated  temples  and  brow,  1  took 
my  way  thence  to  a  little  bluff  on  the  op- 
posite side,  whence  I  could  overlook  the 
valley  for  a  considerable  extent. 

Seating  myself  upon  a  rock,  I  gazed 
around.  Below  was  our  camp  fire,  bright- 
ly burning,  beside  which  I  could  trace, 
with  a  shadowy  distinctness,  the  outlines 
of  the  sleepers'  dark  forms.  There  they 
lay,  all  unconscious  to  the  outer  wor'd, 
perhaps  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  some  de- 
lightful dream.  How  I  envied  them  their 
sleep!'  Beyond  them,  by  the  same  light, 
I  could  faintly  perceive  our  animals — hob- 
bled, but  not  picketed,  the  latter  being 
thought  unnecessary — quietly  grazing. 

It  was  a  warm,  still,  starlight  night. — 
Above  me  the  heavens  were  brilliantly 
studded  with  myriads  of  shining  orbs 
whose  light  fell  softly  and  sweetly  upon 
the  sleeping  earth.  Here  not  a  scud 
floated  in  the  clear  atmosphere;  but  in  the 
west  I  could  perceive  huge,  black  clouds 
of  monstrous  shapes,  lifting  their  ill-shaped 
heads  above  the  horizon,  darting  forth  the 
red  bolts  of  heaven,  v^^hile  a  far-ofT-rum- 
bling  sound  came  jarringly  upon  my  ear. 
Fixing  my  gaze  at  last  in  this  direction, 
I  sat  and  watched  the  rapid  progress  of 
an  approaching  storm.  On  it  came  like 
a  mighty  squadron,  a  few  fleecy  clouds  as 
banners  thrown  out  in  advance,  behind 
which  flashed  and  thundered  its  dread  ar- 
tillery, making  the  very  earth  tremble  be- 
neath the  sound. 

From  youth  up,  the  rapid  play  of  light- 
ning ho/d  strongly  affected  ;ny  nervous  sys- 
tera.'and  made  rae  a  coward;  and  now — 
lonely,  sad  and  gloomy — I  was  in  a  proper 
condition  to  feel  its  effects  more  sensibly 
than  ever.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and  the 
rolling  clouds  had  darkened  the  western 
heavens,  while  the  almost  incessant  flashes 
of  fire  seemed  to  set  the  earth  in  a  blaze, 
and  then  vanishing,  left  it  shrouded  in  a 
darkness  almost  impenetrable. 

Dismal  as  was  the  scene,  I  sat  with  my 
eyes  riveted  upon  it,  while  a  painful  sense 
o[  awe  made  my  limbg  feel  weak  and  my 


blood  move  sluggishly  through  my  veins, 
or  rush  over  me  with  flashes  of  feverish 
heat.  Several  times  I  arose  with  the 
intention  of  returning  to  camp,  but  as 
often  resumed  my  former  position,  as  if 
enchained  to  the  spot  by  some  powerful, 
magic  spell. 

On  came  the  storm  with  startling  velo- 
city, and  presently  I  could  see  the  tops  of 
distant  trees  bending  to  the  blast — the  rain 
falling  in  broad,  white  sheets,  as  if  about 
to  deluge  the  earth — and  hear  the  truly  dis- 
mal roaring  of  the  rushing  winds.  I  would 
have  returned  to  my  companions  now,  but 
our  camp  afforded  no  protection,  and  I  fan- 
cied myself  as  safe  where  I  was. 

At  last  it  broke  upon  me  in  all  its  force; 
and  such  a  storm  I  never  witnessed  before, 
and  hope  never  to  again.  I  feel  myself 
incompetent  to  describe  it.  The  rain  fell 
in  torrents;  the  wind  blew  a  perfect  hurri- 
cane; and  tall,  old  trees,  which  had  per- 
haps stood  for  centuries,  were  broken  and 
uprooted;  while  others,  together  with  sur- 
rounding rocks,  were  shattered  by  the  fiery 
bolts,  and  the  crashing  thunder  fairly  deaf- 
ened me.  How  I  maintained  my  position 
— why  I  was  not  hurled  headlong  down  the 
cliff — is  still  a  mystery  to  myself.  Occa- 
sionally I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  compan- 
ions moving  about  below,  evidently  trying 
to  secure  their  powder  from  the  storm, 
while  Huntly  was  running  to  and  fro  in 
search  of  his  friend,  and,  to  all  appearance, 
surprised,  alarmed  and  distressed.  Our 
animals  too  had  become  frightened,  and 
rearing  and  plunging,  they  soon  broke 
loose  of  their  tethers,  and  dashed  madly 
over  the  plain  in  every  direction.  I  would 
have  joined  my  companions  now,  but  this 
had  become  impossible;  for  the  rain  had 
already  swelled  the  little  creek  between 
me  and  them  into  a  mighty  stream,  that 
rolled  its  dark,  angry  waters  with  fury  be- 
low me,  and  added  its  sullen  roar  to  the 
bowlings  of  the  storm.  I  shouted,  but  my 
voice  was  lost  even  to  myself  in  the 
mightier  ones  of  the  furious  elements. 

Two  hours — two  long,  never-to-be-for- 
gotten hours — did  the  storm  rage  thus  in 
fury;  and  in  those  two  hours  methought  I 
lived  a  lifetime.  Then  to  my  joy  it  began 
to  abate;  and  in  half  an  hour  fagre  I  again 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


53 


beheld  the  twinkling  stars  through  rents 
in  the  driving  clouds;  while  the  tlashing 
lightning  and  the  roaring  thunder,  gradual- 
ly becoming  less  and  less  distinct  to  eye  and 
ear,  told  me  the  devastating  storm  was  fast 
speeding  onward  to  the  east. 

I  now  descended  to  the  creek  to  join  my 
companions;  but  finding  it  too  much  swol- 
len to  attempt  a  passage  with  safety,  I 
again  ascended  the  clifF  and  shouted  to 
them  to  assure  them  of  my  safety.  At 
first  I  could  not  make  them  hear;  but  af- 
ter repeated  trials,  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  receiving  an  answering  shout  from 
Huntly,  who  immediately  set  off  in  the  di- 
rection whence  he  supposed  my  voice  pro- 
ceeded. Alter  a  few  minutes'  search,  du- 
ring which  we  both  called  to  each  other 
continually,  Huntly  was  enabled  to  make 
out  my  locality — but  the  creek  prevented 
our  meeting  during  the  night. 

At  day-break  I  discovered  him  and  Ted- 
dy standing  on  the  opposite  side;  and  as 
the  flood  had  a  little  subsided,  I  plunged  in 
and  swam  across — not,  however,  without 
much  difficulty  and  danger,  nor  until  the 
rushing  waters  had  borne  me  some  forty 
or  fifty  yards  down  the  stream.  No  soon- 
er was  I  safe  on  the  bank,  than  Huntly 
threw  his  arms  around  my  neck  and  wept 
like  a  chiW. 

"Thank  God!  Frank,  my  friend,"  he 
exclaimed,  '•'  that  I  am  able  to  clasp  you 
once  again!  O!  if  you  could  but  know 
my  feelings  of  last  night!  I  thought  you 
were  lost — lost  to  me  forever!"  and  again 
he  was  forced  to  dash  the  tears  from  his 
eyes.  "  But  tell  me,  Frank — how  came 
you  there!" 

I  proceeded  to  detail  every  particular. 

"  A  horrible  night  to  you,  too,  Frank," 
said  Huntly, in  reply.  "  But  hereafter,  my 
friend,  you  must  not  steal  away  from  me 
in  this  way.  If  you  have  troubles,  share 
them  with  me." 

Teddy  was  greatly  rejoiced  to  see  me  also ; 
and  he  got  me  by  the  hand,  and  by  the  leg, 
and  capered  around  me  like  a  delighted 
child — at  the  same  time  uttering  various 
phrases  in  his  peculiar  style,  which,  in 
spite  of  all  that  had  happened,  did  not  fail 
to  amuse  and  sometimes  make  me  laugh 
aloud. 


I  found  the  trappers  surly  and  grumbling 
at  what  they  considered  their  ill  luck — be- 
ing for  the  most  part  in  the  loss  of  a  few 
pounds  of  powder,  and  their  mules — all  of 
which  had  escaped,  as  well  as  our  horses. 

"Augh!"  grunted  Black  George  as  I 
came  up.  "Glad  to  see  you, boy.  Thought 
you'd  gone  under.  It  was  a  screecher  of 
a  night,  wasn't  it!  Lost  heaps  of  pow- 
der, and  all  the  critters  gone  to  the . 

Augh!" 

My  powder  had  fortunately  been  so 
packed  that  nearly  all  was  safe;  and  as  I 
had  a  great  store  on  hand,  I  gave  each  of 
the  mountaineers  a  pound,  which  served 
to  put  them  in  a  better  humor. 

We  now  separated  and  set  off  in  differ- 
ent directions  to  hunt  our  animals,  with 
the  understanding  that  this  should  be  our 
rendezvous.  We  had  a  wearisome  time  of 
it,  and  it  was  late  in  the  day  before  we  all 
got  together  again.  All,  however,  had 
been  recovered;  and  mounting,  we  set  for- 
ward once  more  rather  briskly,  and  en- 
camped some  ten  miles  distant. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OUR  COURSE   ALONG   THE   PLATTE — KILLING 

AND  DRESSING  A  BUFFALO THEIR  PATHS 

THE  PRAIRIE-DOG THEIR  TOWNS,  AP- 
PEARANCE, HABITS,  FOOD,  ETC. THE  SOL- 
ITARY TOWER — CHIMNEY  ROCK — SCOTT'S 
BLUFFS — ORIGIN  OF  THE  NAME — FORT 
LARAMIE — ARRIVAL  AT — ITS  APPEAR- 
ANCE, INMATES,  ETC. — CURIOSITY. 

The  next  morning  we  set  forward  again, 
and  keeping  a  northwesterly  course,  most- 
ly over  a  rolling  prairie,  encamped  on  the 
second  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Nebras- 
ka or  Platte  river.  This  river  is  very  shal- 
low, and  flows  over  a  sandy  bed.  We  found 
the  bottom  at  this  point  some  three  or  four 
miles  wide,  devoid  of  a  tree,  and  covered 
with  excellent  grass,  besprinkled  with  a 
salinous  substance,  which  caused  our  ani- 
mals to  devour  it  greedily. 

Setting  our  faces  westward,  we  now 
followed  the  course  of  the  Platte  for 
several    days,    without     a    single    inci- 


54 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


dent  worth  be'ing  recorded.     The  Platte  l      But   to  Iluntly  and   myself,   the   most 
bottoms  we  found  to  vary  from  two  to  four   amusing  and  interesting  sights  of  all  we 


miles  in  breadth,  and  in  some  places  our 
animals  fared  slimly.  On  the  fourth  day. 
Fiery  Ned  shot  a  lat  buffalo,  which  was 
the  first  I  had  ever  seen  close  at  hand. — 
This  animal  dies  very  hard,  even  when 
mortally  wounded;  and  an  individual  un- 
acquainted with  its  natiiro — or,  as  the 
mountaineers  would  term  him,  a  "green- 
horn"— though  never  so  good  a  marksman, 


would   assuredly  fail,  using  the   hunters'    steadily  pursued  their  way. 


saw  on  the  route,  were  the  towns  of  the 
prairie-dog,  which  are  to  be  found  at  dif- 
ferent intervals  along  the  whole  course  of 
the  sandy  Platte,  and  through  several  of 
which  we  passed.  The  first  one  we  came 
to,  so  astonished  and  interested  us,  thpt 
Flunlly,  Teddy  and  myself  dismounted  to 
take  a  closer  view,  while  the  trappers,  be- 
ing of  course   familiar  with  such  things, 


phrase, "  to  throw  him  in  his  tracks."  One 
would  suppose  that  a  shot  about  the  head 
or  central  part  of  the  body  would  prove  fa- 
tal— but  nothing  is  more  erroneous.  To 
kill  a  ball,  the  ball  must  either  divide  his 
spine,  or  enter  his  body  behind  the  shoul- 
der, a  few  inches  above  the  brisket — this 
being  the  only  point  through  which  his 
heart  and  lungs  are  accessible.  And  even 
here,  the  vital  part  of  all  vitality,  with  a 
ball  directly  through  his  heart,  I  was  in- 
formed by  one  of  the  hunters  that  he  had 
known  an  old  bull  run  half  a  mile  before 
falling. 

The  buffalo  killed  was  a  fat  cow;  and 
turning  her  upon  her  back,  the  trappers 
proceeded  to  dress  her  in  the  real  moun- 


The  prairie-dog  is  above  the  size  of  a 
large  gray  squirrel,  somewhat  longer  than 
a  Guinea  pig,  of  a  brownish  or  sandy 
hue,  with  a  head  somewhat  resembling  a 
bull  dog.  Being  of  a  social  disposition, 
they  collect  together  in  large  bodies,  and 
build  their  towns  on  a  gravelly  plain,  some 
of  them  being  miles  in  extent,  and  with 
a  population  equalling  the  largest  cities  of 
America,  or  even  Europe.  Their  earthen 
houses,  which  are  from  two  to  three  feet 
in  height,  are  made  in  the  form  of  a  cone. 
They  are  entered  by  a  hole  in  the  top  or 
apex,  which  descends  vertically  some  three 
feet  or  more,  and  then  takes  an  oblique 
course  and  connects  with  others  in  every 
direction.     Their  streets  are  laid  out  with 


tain  style.     Parting  the  skin  from  head  to  something  approaching  regularity,  and  they 
tail  with  a  sharp  knife,  directly  across  the  '  evidently  have  a  sort  of  police,  and  laws 


belly,  they  peeled  down  the  hide  on  either 
side,  and  then  taking  from  her  the  "  hump 
rib,"  "  tender  loin,"  "  fleece,"  "  tongue," 
and  "  boudins,"  they  left   the  remainder. 


to  govern  them,  not  unlike  those  of  supe- 
rior and  more  enlightened  beings.  In  some 
of  the  towns,  a  house  larger  than  ordinary 
occupie's  a  central  position,  which  is  ten- 


with  the  exception  of  the  skin,  which  was  anted  by  a  sleek,  fat  dog,  supposed  to  be 
thrown  across  one  of  the  mules,  to  the  i  the  presiding  functionary  of  the  place, 
vigilant  care  of  the  wolves.  The  "  bou-  whose  sole  employment  appears  to  be  in 
din,"  a  portion  of  the  entrails,  is  consider- j  sunning  himself  outside  his  domicil,  and 


eo  by  the  mountaineers  the  titbit  of  all. 
Slightly  browned  over  a  fire,  it  is  swallow- 
ed yard  after  yard  without  being  separated, 
and,!  may  add,  without  resulting  in  the 
least  inconvenience  to  the  crormand. 


noting  with  patriarchal  gravity  the  doings 
of  his  inferiors. 

The  town  which  myself  and  companions 
halted  to  examine,  was  one  of  the  larger 
class,  and  covered  an  area,  to  the  best  of 


Through  this  section  of  country  I  ob- ;  my  judgment,  of  at  least  five  hundred  acres, 
sewed  innumerable  buffalo  paths,  running  On  our  approach,  a  certain  portion  of  the 
from  the  bluffs  to  the  river,  and  crossing 
each  other  in  every  direction.  These 
paths  present  a  striking  appearance  to  one 
unused  to  the  sight,  being  more  than  a  foot 
in   width,  some  three   or  four  inches  in 


little  fellows  ran  to  the  mouth  of  their 
holes,  and  squatting  down  commenced  a 
shrill  barking,  not  unlike  that  made  by  a 
toy-dog — whereupon  the  pups  and  smaller 
sized  animals  betook  themselves  with  the 


depth,  and  as  smooth  and  even  as  if  cut '  utmost  despatch  to  their  burrows.     A  near- 


artificially. 


er  approach  drove  the  more  daring  under 


OR,  ADVENTURES    IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


55 


cover,  whence  they  took  the  liberty  of 
peeping  out  to  examine  us,  and  occasion- 
ally of  uttering  a  shrill  bark,  as  a  gentle 
hint  that  our  company  was  any  thing  but 
agreeable. 

The  food  of  these  interesting  little  fel- 
lows consists,  for  the  most  part,  of  prairie 
grass  and  roots.  They  live  a  life  of  coii- 
etant  alarm — being  watched  and  pounced 
upon  continually  by  the  wolf,  the  hawk,  the 
eagle,  &c.  They  are  very  hospitable  to 
such  animals  as  choose  to  come  and  live 
peaceably  among  thera — and  the  screech 
owl  and  rattlesnake  are  their  constant 
guests;  and  it  is  not  unusual,  I  was  told, 
to  find  all  three  burrowed  together  is  one 
hole.  They  are  some  times  eaten  by  the 
Indian  and  mountaineer. 

Spending  an  hour  or  more  in  examining 
the  town,  we  remounted  our  horses  and 
soon  overtook  the  trappers,  Teddy  observ- 
ing as  we  quitted  the  village: 

"  Faith,  your  honors,  but  thim  is  queer 
bir-r-ds  now,  isn't  they  {  Och!  be  me  moth- 
er's hair!  it's  like  they've  bin  down  to  St. 
Louey  and  got  the  notion  in  their  heads 
and  think  they  can  baat  the  city,  the  spal- 
peens! I'd  like  'em  to  gOk.an  sae  Dublin, 
now — maybe  that  'ud  astonish  'em  a  wee 
bit,  and  give  'em  some  new  idees  respict- 
ing  public  idifices,jist.  Ochone!  Ireland's 
the  place  to-  taach  'em — the  baastly  ser- 
pints  of  bir-r-ds  that  they  is." 

The  first  natural  object  of  curiosity  I 
beheld  after  crossing  the  South  Fork  of  the 
Platte,  was  the  Solitary  Tower,  opposite 
which  we  encamped  on  the  margin  of  a 
small  stream  called  Little  Creek.  This 
tower,  composed  of  sand  and  claj ,  resem- 
bles a  stone  edifice,  and  being  some  seven 
or  eight  hundred  feet  in  height,  can  be 
seen  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
miles.  To  the  distant  beholder  it  presents 
the  appearance  of  some  mighty  structure 
of  feudal  days;  but  a  near  view  dispels  the 
jllusior,and  the  spectator  sees  before  him 
only  a  rough,  unseemly,  but  stupendous 
pile — thus  verifying  the  words  of  the  poet, 
that 

"  Distance  lenis  enchantment  to  the  view." 

I  was  informed  by  Black  George,  that  this 
tower  could  be  ascended,  thouj^h  at  some 


risk  to  the  adventurer;  and  that  he  and 
another  trapper  had  made  the  trial  some 
years  before,  and  spent  one  cold  winter's 
night  in  one  of  its  damp  crevices — escap- 
ing by  this  means  a  party  of  hostile  savages 
on  his  trail.  I  did  not  attempt  the  ascent 
myself. 

The  following  day,  before  noon,  wc 
reached  Chimney  Rock,  another  natural 
curiosity,  which  can  be  seen  at  a  distance 
of  thirty  miles,  and  which  afar  off  resem- 
bles a  shot  tower;  but  as  you  near  it,  it 
gradually  assumes  the  appearance  of  a 
haystack,  with  a  pole  protruding  from  the 
apex.  It  is  about  two  hundred  feet  in 
height,  and  is  composed  of  much  the  same 
substance  as  the  Solitary  Tower.  The 
rains  are  gradually  wearing  it  away,  and 
in  course  of  time  it  will  cease  to  be  an  ob- 
ject of  curiosity.  Black  George  informed 
me  that  twenty  years  before,  it  was  at  least 
a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  feet 
above  its  present  elevation. 

Pursuing  our  journey,  we  encamped  in 
the  evening,  on  Scott's  Bluffs,  where  we 
found  a  good  spring,  and  plenty  of  grass 
for  our  animals.  As  wood  was  abundant 
here,  we  started  a  fire,  and  while  sitting 
around  discussing  our  meat  and  smoking 
ing  our  pipes,  the  old  trapper,  who  had  not 
been  loquacious  for  several  days,  observed: 

"Strangers,  heyar's  what  can't  look 
round  this  spot  without  feeiin  badly — I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  I  can!" 

"  And  why  so!"  I  asked. 

"  Case  one  o'  the  almightiest  best  fellers 
you  ever  seed,  went  under  here.  I  knowed 
him  like  a  trump;  and  he  was  one  o'  them 
chaps  you  could  bear  to  talk  about — real 
mountain  grit,  with  a  hand  that  'ud  make 
your  fingers  ache  when  he  squeezed  'em^ 
and  a  fist  that  could  knock  a  hole  into  your 
upper  story  and  let  in  the  atmospheric,  ef 
he  didn't  like  ye.  Yes,  he  was  one  o'  the 
purtiest  men  that  ever  raised  hair,  throwed 
bufller,  trapped  beaver,  swallered  'bou- 
dins,'  or  I'm  a  liar.  But  all  wouldn't  do. 
Death  sot  his  trap  and  cctched  him,  and 
left  jest  a  few  floatin  sticks  in  the  shape 
o'  bones  to  let  us  know  he  was  a  goner. 
He  died  right  down  thar,  'bout  six  paces 
from  whar  you're  settin." 

"Tell  us  the  story." 


56 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


"  It's  purty  easy  told.  Him  and  a  heap 
o'  other  fellers  had  bin  up  on  a  right  smart 
trade  with  the  Injins,and  was  comin  down 
this  way,  goin  to  the  States,  when  a  lot  o' 
the  cussed  varmints  jumped  on  to  'em  and 
stole  every  blessed  thing  they  had,  even  to 

thar  guns,  powder,  meat,  and  be to 

'em.  Well,  Jimmy  Scott — him  as  I's  tell- 
in  about — he  hadn't  bin  well  for  a  week, 
and  gittin  aground  o'  fodder  fetched  him 
right  over  the  coals.  He  kicked  mighty 
hard  at  fust;  but  findin  it  wasn't  no  use,  he 
gin  in,  and  told  them  as  was  with  him  that 
his  time  was  up,  and  he  would  hev  to  do 
the  rest  o'  his  trappin  in  another  country, 
and  that  they'd  best  put  out  while  they'd 
got  meat  enough  on  thar  bones  to  make 
wolves  foller  'em.  They  hated  to  leave 
him  like  darnation — but  they  had  to  do  it; 
and  so  they  sot  him  up  agin  a  rock  and 
vamosed.  This  was  about  a  mile  down  on 
tother  side  thar;  and  arter  they'd  gone, 
Jimmy  got  up  and  paddled  here,  whar  he  laid 
down  and  went  a  wolfin.  Nobody  ever 
seed  Jimmy  Scott  arterwards— but  they 
found  his  floatin  sticks  here,  and  gin  this 
the  name  o'  Scott's  Blufls." 

The  next  day,  long  before  sundown,  we 
came  in  sight  of  Fort  Laramie,  where  it 
was  the  intention  of  Huntly  and  myself 
to  spend  a  few  days,  to  refresh  ourselves 
and  rest  our  animals,  before  attempting 
the  perilous  journey  of  the  mountains.  On 
our  whole  route,  from  the  moment  we 
crossed  Kansas  river,  we  had  not  been 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  single  white 
man  but  ourselves;  and  consequently  my 
delight  may  be  imagined,  when  I  beheld 
the  walls  of  this  celebrated  fortress  appear 
in  the  distance,  and  felt  that  there  at  least 
I  could  rest  in  safety. 

Fort  Laramie  stands  upon  slightly  ele- 
vated ground,  some  two  miles  from  the 
Platte,  and  on  the  west  bank  of  Laramie 
Fork.  It  is  a  dirty  and  clumsy  looking 
edifice,  built  of  adobes,*  after  the  Mexican 
style,  with  walls  some  two  feet  in  thick- 
ness and  fifteen  in  height,  in  which  are 
planted  posts  to  support  the  roof,  the 
whole  being  covered  with  a  clay  like  sub- 
stance.    Through  this  wall  are  two  gate- 

*  Sun-burned  bricka. 


ways,  one  at  the  north  and  the  other  at 
the  south,  and  the  top  is  surmounted  by  a 
wooden  palisade.  Over  the  main  or  front 
entrance  is  a  square  tower,  built  also  of 
adobes;  and  at  two  angles,  diagonally  op- 
posite each  other,  are  large  square  bas- 
tions, so  arranged  as  to  sweep  the  four 
faces  of  the  walls.  The  center  of  the 
fort  is  an  open  square,  quadrangular  in 
shape,  along  the  sides  of  which  are  dwell- 
ings, store-rooms,  stables,  carpenter  shops, 
smith  shops,  offices,  &c.,  all  fronting  upon 
the  inner  area. 

This  fort  belongs  to  the  North  Ameri- 
can Fur  Company,  and  is  a  general  ren- 
dezvous for  traders,travellers,  trappers,  In- 
dians, emigrants,  &,c.,  on  their  way  to  and 
from  the  different  trading  posts,  Oregon 
and  the  United  States.  Here  may  be 
found  representatives  of  all  nations  and 
colors,  meeting  on  an  equal  footing,  often 
drinking  and  gambling  together,  many  of 
whom  may  be  put  down  as  implacable  ene- 
mies, and  who,  at  another  time  and  place, 
would  think  nothing  of  cutting  each  others' 
throats.  Here  occasionally  may  be  seen 
the  Ponka,  the  Pawnee,  the  Crow,  the 
Blackfoot,  the  Sioux  and  the  Shoshone — 
intermingled  with  the  Spaniard,  the 
Frenchman,  the  Mexican,  the  Anglo-Sax- 
on, the  Dutchman  and  Negro.  The  trap- 
per comes  in  at  certain  seasons  loaded 
with  furs,  and  receives  in  exchange  for 
them  powder,  lead,  tobacco,  whisky,  &c., 
at  the  most  exorbitant  prices.  Then  gen- 
erally follow  a  few  days  of  dissipation — in 
feasting,  gambling,  drunkenness,  and  some 
times  riot — when  he  finds  all  his  hard  earn- 
ings gone,  and  he  obliged  to  betake  him- 
'self  again  to  the  mountains,  to  procure 
a  new  supply,  to  be  squandered  in  the  same 
reckless  manner. 

As  we  rode  up  to  the  fort,  we  noticed 
several  Indians  standing  outside,  careless- 
ly leaning  against  the  mud-covered  walls, 
their  persons  bedecked  with  gew-gawe, 
and  their  faces  bedaubed  with  paint,  look- 
ing surly  and  ferocious,  evidently  under 
the  excitement  of  liquor,  and  ready  at  any 
moment,  did  not  their  cowardice  and  fears 
restrain  them,  to  take  the  life  and  scalp  of 
the  first  white  man  that  should  come  in 
their  way.     Standing  among  them,  and 


OR,  ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


67 


addressing  one  who  from  his  superiority  of 
costume  and  equipments  I  judged  to  be  a 
chief,  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  mostly 
concealed  under  a  large  sarape  and  broad- 
brimmed  sombrero. 

"  H — !"  exclaimed  Black  George,  with 
an  indignant  scowl:  "  Ef  thar  aint  one  o' 
them  infernal  Greasers,  I  wish  I  may  be 
dogged!  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is, 
he'd  better  not  come  foolin  round  this 
child,  or  he'll  find  his  hair  lifted.  Eh! 
Ned!" 

"  Won't  nothin  short." 

Passing  through  the  gateway,  we  soon 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  our  cuvalla- 
da  well  disposed  of;  and  entering  the  com- 
mon reception  room,  took  a  friendiy  drink 
together;  after  which,  lighting  our  pipes, 
(Huntly  and  myself  had  already  adopted 
this  habit  since  leaving  home,)  we  strolled 
around  the  fortress  to  gratify  our  curiosity, 
and  while  away  the  time  till  supper. 

We  found  every  thing  in  perfect  order, 
all  the  various  compartments  cleanly,  and 
the  fort  well  garrisoned  by  a  dozen  hardy 
fellows,  each  of  whom  had  seen  more  or 
less  service,  and  the  commander  of  whom 
was  at  least  a  veteran  in  experience  if 
not  in  years. 

The  fort  was  not  crowded  by  any  means 
— it  not  being  the  season  of  year  for  the 
traders  and  trappers  to  be  "  in" — but  still 
the  number  of  guests  was  quite  respect- 
able. There  were  a  few  families  of  emi- 
grants on  their  way  to  Oregon  and  Cali- 
fornia, and  one  or  two  home-sick  ones  on 
their  return  to  the  United  States,  looking 
pale,  sickly  and  dejected.  Some  half  a 
dozen  Indians,  two  or  three  Mexicans,  as 
many  French  voyageurs,  four  or  five  trap- 
pers and  hunters — all  of  whom  were  re- 
cognized by  our  companions — a  brace  of 
Yankee  speculators,  another  of  coureur 
des  bois,*  together  with  the  squaw-wives 
and  children  of  the  garrison — completed, 
as  far  as  I  could  judge  by  a  hasty  glance, 
the  present  occupants  of  the  station. 

On  the  eastern  side  of  the  fort  we  found 
an  additional  wall  to  the  one  I  have  de- 
scribed, which  connected  with  the  main 
one   at  both    extremities,   and    enclosed 


ground  for  stabling  and  carrell.  A  large 
gateway  opened  into  this  from  the  south- 
ern side,  and  a  postern  communicated  with 
it  from  the  main  enclosure.  Here  were 
carrelled  a  few  mules  and  cattle  belonging 
to  the  emigrants,  while  in  the  stables  out 
own  horses  were  enjoying  the  best  the 
country  afforded,  for  which  of  course  we 
expected  to  pay  at  least  six  prices.  In 
view  of  this  important  item,  and  their  in- 
capacity to  meet  it,  the  mountaineers  had 
taken  care  to  put  their  mules  on  less  ex- 
pensive diet. 

In  the  main  enclosure  or  common,  were 
several  heavy  Pittsburgh  wagons,  some  of 
which  were  undergoing  repairs  at  the 
hands  of  the  various  mechanics  err  ployed 
about  the  station.  As  we  drew  near  them 
after  leaving  the  carrell,  we  noti.vd  that 
several  had  left  their  employment  .ind  col- 
lected in  a  group  round  someobji;  '  which 
we  could  not  make  out  from  w  liore  we 
stood,  while  others  had  suspended  r'leir  la- 
bors and  were  gazing  in  the  san;o  direc- 
tion, evidently  on  the  point  of  joitrn.g  their 
comrades.  As  by  this  time  Huiiiy  and  I 
were  by  ourselves,  and  our  curios  ify  being 
excited,  we  eagerly  sprang  forw  ;.rd,  and 
elbowing  our  way  through  the  f;*  thick- 
ening crowd,  to  our  surprise  behi  •  what  I 
shall  proceed  to  describe  in  the  ;  .lowing 
chapter. 


■  Itinerant  traders  or  cedlars 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CURIOUS  INDIAN  PONT — ALAR^llSG  RU- 
MOR—F0MP0SITT~THE  RENOWN  KD  MOUN- 
TAINEER— THE    AMUSING    MISTAU'E THE 

MYSTERIOUS  EQUESTRIENNE. 

In  the  center  of  the  ring  stcon  an  In- 
dian pony  of  the  largest  class,  and  the 
most  beautiful  animal  I  had  ever  seen. — 
His  color  was  a  jet  black,  and  so  glossy 
that  it  seemed  to  possess  the  power  of  re- 
flection. Every  point  and  limb  was  per- 
fectly developed,  with  legs  sleek  and  slim, 
and  a  beautifully  arched  neck,,  on  which 
was  a  head  that  bore  the  look  of  con- 
scious superiority  and  pride.  His  trap- 
pings were  in  perfect  keeping  with  all  the 
rest.     A  small,  delicately  formed  Spanish 


38 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


saddle,  designed  for  an  equestrienne,  sur- 
mounted his  back,  underneath  which  was 
a  saddle  blanket  of  wampum,  most  beauti- 
fully wrought  with  fine,  shiny  beads  of 
all  colors,  into  various  birds  and  flowers, 
and  which  being  long  and  hanging  low, 
almost  enveloped  him  in  its  ample  folds. 
Even  his  bridle,  martingales,  reins  and 
belly-girth,  were  worked  in  the  same  beau- 
tiful manner,  with  beads  of  red,  white  and 
blue.  He  was  walking  to  and  fro,  snuff- 
ing the  air,  pawing  the  ground,  and  occa- 
sionally turning  his  gaze  upon  the  crowd 
with  a  proud  look,  as  if  conscious  he  was 
an  object  both  of  curiosity  and  admira- 
tion. 

Various  were  the  remarks  of  surprise 
and  delight  which  were  passed  upon  him 
by  the  excited  spectators,  some  of  whom 
ventured  to  pat  his  sleek  neck  and  rub  his 
head.  At  length  one  strapping  fellow 
caught  him  by  the  bridle,  and  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  saddle  as  if  with  the  inten- 
tion of  vaulting  upon  his  back.  But  this, 
according  to  the  pony's  notion,  was  carry- 
ing familiarity  a  little  too  far;  and  with  a 
loud  neigh,  a  rear  and  plunge,  he  tore  him- 
self away,  nor  would  he  afterwards  permit 
a  hand  to  touch  him,  although  he  still  re- 
mained quietly  in  the  ring. 

"  By  heavens!"  exclaimed  Huntly,  "  saw 
you  ever  the  like,  Frank? — saw  you  ever 
any  thing  of  the  brute  creation  so  beauti- 
ful]" 

"Never  in  my  life,"  I  replied;  "and  I 
assure  you  I  am  anxious  to  behold  his  ri- 
der— for  by  the  saddle  it  is  a  female." 

"True;  I  did  not  think  of  that;  and  if 
she  prove  half  as  beautiful,  i'  faith  I  fear  I 
shall  find  myself  in  love  with  her." 

"  Notwithstanding  the  lovely  unknown 
—eh!  Charley]" 

"  Come,  come — no  home  thrusts  now," 
answered  Huntly,  good  humordly.  "  Do 
not  rub  a  part  already  too  tender." 

"  Well,  heyar's  what's  seed  a  good  many 
sights  in  my  time,  but  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef 
ever  I  seed  any  thing  o'  the  boss  kind  as 
could  hold  a  primia  to  this  critter,"  said 
the  voice  of  Black  George,  who  had  come 
up  behind  us. 

"  But  who  and  where  is  the  riderl"  I  ask- 
ed, turning  to  hinR,. 


"  Don't  know  whar,  but  spcct  it's  some 
squaw  or  other — augh!" 

"  The  rider  is  an  Indian  female,  the 
most  perfect  I  ever  beheld,"  rejoined  a 
stranger  at  my  elbow,  and  whom  I  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  speculators  previously 
mentioned. 

"  Where  is  she?  where  is  she?"  cried 
several  voices, before  I  had  time  to  respond 
to  my  informant;  and  immediately  the 
stranger  became  the  center  of  observation. 

"  She  is  now  closeted  with  the  command- 
er of  the  garrison." 

"  Then  perhaps  she  brings  important 
news]"  observed  Huntly. 

"  Nothing  more  probable,  sir,"  was  the 
reply.  "  There  is  a  good  deal  of  dissatis- 
faction among  the  Indians,  I  understand." 

"Indeed!"  I  replied.  "And  do  you 
think  the  route  westward  particularly  dan- 
gerous at  this  time!" 

"  I  do;  for  rumors  have  reached  us  that 
the  Crows,  the  Oglallahs,  the  Gros  Ven- 
tres, the  Cheyennes,  and  one  or  two  other 
tribes,  have  vowed  to  take  vengeance  on 
all  the  whites  that  fall  in  their  way;  and 
it  is  said,  I  do  not  know  with  how  much 
truth,  that  the  Oglallahs  are  out  on  the 
Black  Hill  range  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Red  Buttes,  while  the  Crows  are 
skulking  through  the  valley  of  the  Sweet- 
water." 

"  Why  this  is  alarming,  truly,"  I  rejoin- 
ed; "  and  certainly  discouraging  to  those 
who,  like  ourselves,  are  going  merely  for 
adventure  and  amusement." 

"  If  adventure  or  amusement  is  your  only 
object  in  crossing  the  Rocky  mountains, 
take  my  advice,  young  men,  and  either 
turn  back  or  remain  where  you  are." 

"  And  yet  why  should  they  turn  back]" 
said  a  voice  behind  us.  "  All  men  ar 
born  to  die,  and  it's  not  probable  any  will 
go  before  thar  time.  Courage  and  reso- 
lution ar  every  thing  in  this  part  of  the 
world." 

I  turned  round  and  beheld  in  the  speak- 
er a  young  man  of  small  stature  and  ro- 
bust frame,  over  whose  clean  shaven  face 
time  had  not  drawn  a  wrinkle.  His  fea- 
tures were  regular  and  prepossessing.  The . 
general  expression  of  his  intelligent  coun-. 
tenance  was  so    reserved  and  unobtru- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


59 


sive,  that  i  readily  felt  surprise  he  should  I 
liave  hazarded  the  remarks  just  quoted,  i 
without  first  being  called  upon  for  hisj 
opinion.  To  all  appearance  he  had  not  | 
seen  over  twenty-five  winters,  though  in 
reality  he  might  have  been  much  older,  so 
difficult  was  it  to  determine  by  his  coun- 
tenance. He  had  light  hair — a  keen, 
restless,  eagle-like  gray  eye — an  ample 
forehead — and  a  skin  which,  but  for  expo- 
sure to  all  kinds  of  weather,  had  doubtless 
been  as  fair  and  as  soft  as  a  lady's.  Though 
small  in  stature  and  small  limbed,  as  I  said 
before,  I  noticed  there  was  in  all  a  beau- 
tiful symmetry — a  perfect  adaptation  of 
one  part  to  another.  His  limbs,  though 
slender,  were  plump  and  wiry,  with  mus- 
cles of  iron,  and  being  something  of  a 
connoiseur  in  such  matters,  I  at  once  put 
him  down  as  an  active,  and,  for  his  inches, 
a  powerful  man.  He  was  costumed  in  the 
usual  mountain  style,  and  I  judged  had 
just  entered  the  fort,  as  I  did  not  remem- 
ber having  seen  him  before. 

As  he  spoke,  I  noticed  that  several  of 
the  by-standers  whispered  to  others,  and 
that  instantly  all  eyes  became  fixed  upon 
him,  with  an  air  of  curiosity  which  I  could 
not  account  for — there  being  nothing  par- 
ticularly remarkable  in  his  appearance,  as 
I  have  shown  by  my  description.  The 
stranger  to  whom  he  had  addressed  his  re- 
marks, coolly  examined  him  from  head  to 
foot,  as  one  who  felt  a  little  nettled  at  his 
interference,  and  wished  to  assure  himself 
of  the  exact  importance  that  should  be  at- 
tached to  his  words  before  he  ventured  a 
reply.  By  a  slight  curl  of  the  lip  into 
something  like  a  sneer,  I  saw  at  once  he 
was  not  a  judge  of  human  nature,  and  had 
underrated  the  new  comer  not  a  little. — 
He  was  himself  a  supercilious  man,  who 
delighted  in  giving  advice  with  a  patron- 
izing air,  and  consequently  did  not  care  to 
have  his  wise  counsel  questioned  by  what 
he  evidently  considered  an  interloper.  He 
therefore,  after  taking  a  complete  and  ra- 
ther insolent  survey  of  the  other's  person, 
.replied  rather  pompously: 

"  Why  should  they  turn  back,  say  you? 
Because  there  is  danger,  great  danger,  to 
them  if  they  advance  farther,  as  any  one 
who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  this  part  of 


the  country  must  be  aware.  If  you  had 
travelled  it  as  much  as  I  have,  sir,  (there 
was  an  important  stress  on  the  pronoun) 
you  would  I  fancy  understand  the  value  of 
my  advice;  but  young  men  (the  speaker 
was  about  thirty)  on  their  first  hunt  are  apt 
to  be  very  knowing  and  imprudent — and, 
sir,  I  may  add,  without  wishing  to  be  per- 
sonal, a  little  impudent  also." 

Here  the  speaker  straightened  himself 
up  with  an  air  of  importance,  and  glanced 
round  upon  the  spectators,  where  he  saw 
many  a  quiet  smile,  which  he  was  fain  to 
to  attribute  to  silent  approvals  of  his 
own  lofty  and  conclusive  argument.  The 
new  comer  also  smiled  slightly,  as  he  quiet- 
ly asked: 

"  May  I  inquire,  sir,  how  much  of  the 
country  you've  travelled]" 

"  Thousands  of  miles,  youngman — thou- 
sands of  miles,  sir!  Yes,  sir  I  I  have  been 
twice  to  Oregon,  and  once  to  California." 

"  Is  that  all?' 

"  That  all,  sir!  Umph!  that,  let  me  tell 
you,  is  a  good  deal,  sir,  as  you  will  find 
when  you  have  gone  over  the  half  of  it." 

"  I,  think  I  have  already — at  least  that's 
my  impression,"  was  the  somewhat  nettling 
answer,  which  was  rendered  none  the  less 
so  to  the  speculator,  by  a  few  half  sup- 
pressed titters  and  one  hearty  laugh  from 
the  crowd. 

"  Indeed!  young  man.  Pray  be  so  good 
as  to  inform  us  where  you  have  beeni" 

"  It  would  be  much  easier  to  tell  you 
whar  I've  not  been,"  answered  the  other, 
pleasantly.  "  But  I  may  saj',  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  I've  seen  nearly 
every  foot  of  ground  from  the  Yellow 
Stone  to  the  Spanish  Peaks — from  the 
Mississippi  to  the  Pacific  ocean." 

"  Your  name,  strangerl"  said  the  other, 
a  little  crest  fallen. 

"  I'm  called  Kit  Carson." 

At  the  quiet  mention  of  that  renowned 
name,  better  known  on  the  mountains  and 
over  the  broad  West  than  that  of  any  other 
living  being,  and  which  was  as  familiar  to 
me  as  a  household  word,  T  involuntarily 
gave  a  start  of  surprise,  while  three  deaf- 
ening cheers  went  up  from  the  crowd, 
mingled  with  boisterous  shouts  of  laugh- 
ter, to  the  no  small  chagrin  and  niortifica- 


'>0 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


•ion  of  the  pompous  speculator,  who  mut- 
ored  something  which  to  me  sounded  very 
nuch  liice  an  oath. 

Here,  then,  stood  the  famous  Kit  Carson! 
I  being  I  had  long  had  a  secret  desire  to 
lehold,  but  whom  I  had  always  pictured  to 
nyselt  as  huge,  rough,  brawny  and  fero- 
ious.  Nor  could  I  bring  myself  to  realize 
hat  the  person  before  me  was  that  same 
ncarnate  devil  in  Indian  fight  I  had  heard 
liim  represented,  and  who  had  killed  and 
scalped  more  sayages  in  the  same  number 
)f  years  than  any  two  hunters  west  of  the 
)ld  Mississippi. 

When  the  laugh  and  tumult  had  some- 
what subsided,  the  stranger,  anxious  to 
oscape  ridicule,  observed/ 

"  Gentlemen,  I  acknowledge  my  verdan- 
'■y,  and  feel  myself  indebted  to  you  a  treat. 
Hit  Carson,  your  hand !  and  how  will  you 
lave  yours — mixed  or  clear!" 

Another  burst  of  merriment  broke  from 
'he  crowd,  with  three  hearty  cheers  for  the 
ipeculator  and  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
-'  wet"  all  round.  Suddenly  the  boisterous 
tumult  subsided  as  if  by  magic,  and  not  a 
man  ventured  a  remark  above  a  whisper, 
while  the  eyes  of  each  became  fixed  upon 
some  object  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
square. 

"Stand  back!  stand  back!  She  comes! 
she  comes!"  I  heard  whispered  on  all  sides 
of  me. 

"Look,  Frank — look!"  said  Huntly,  in 
1  suppressed  voice,  clutching  my  arm  ner- 
vously. 

I  did  look;  and  what  I  beheld  I  feel  my- 
self incompetent  to  describe  and  do  the 
ubject  justice.  Before  me,  perfectly  erect, 
her  tiny  feet  scarce  seeming  to  touch 
the  ground  she  trod,  was  a  being  which 
required  no  great  stretch  of  imagination 
:.o  fancy  just  dropped  from  some  celestial 
inhere.  She  was  a  little  above  medium  in 
stature,  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  with 
-.  form  as  symmetrical  and  faultless  as  a 
N'^enus.  Twenty  summers  (I  could  not  re- 
alize she  had  ever  seen  a  winter)  had 
aoulded  her  features  into  what  I  may  term 
I  classic  beauty,  as  if  chiselled  from  mar- 
ie by  the  hand  of  a  master.  Her  skin 
'/as  dark,  but  not  more  so  than  a  Creole's, 
und  with  nothing  of  the  brownish  or  red- 


dish hue  of  the  native  Indian.  It  was 
beautifully  clear  too,  and  apparently  of  a 
velvet-like  softness.  Her  hair  was  a  glos- 
sy  black,  a.nd  her  hazel  eyes  were  large 
and  lustrous,  fringed  with  long  lashes,  and 
arched  by  fine,  pencilled  brows.  Her  pro- 
file was  straight  from  forehead  to  chin,  and 
her  full  face  oval,  lighted  with  a  soul  of 
feeling,  fire  and  intelligence.  A  well 
formed  mouth,  guarded  by  two  plump  lips, 
was  adorned  witii  a  beautiful  set  of  teeth, 
partially  displayed  when  she  spoke  or 
smiled.  A  slightly  acquiline  nose  gave 
an  air  of  decision  to  the  \v^hole  counten- 
ance, and  rendered  its  otherwise  almost 
too  effeminate  expression,  noble,  lofty  and 
commanding. 

Her  costume  was  singular,  and  such  as 
could  not  fail  to  attract  universal  atten- 
tion. A  scarlet  waistcoat  concealed  a 
well  developed  bust, to  which  were  attach- 
ed short  sleeves  and  skirts — the  latter  com- 
ing barely  to  the  knees,  something  after 
the  fashion  of  the  short  frock  worn  by  the 
danseuse  of  the  present  day.  These 
skirts  were  showily  embroidered  with  wam- 
pum, and  a  wampum  belt  passed  around 
her  waist,  in  which  glittered  a  silver  mount- 
ed Spanish  dirk.  From  the  frock  down- 
wards, leggins  and  moccasins  beautifully 
wrought  into  various  figures  with  beads, 
enclosed  the  legs  and  feet.  A  tiara  of 
many  colored  feathers,. to  which  were  at- 
tached little  bells  that  tinkled  as  she  walk- 
ed, surmounted  the  head;  and  a  bracelet 
of  pearl  on  either  well  rounded  arm,  with 
a  necklace  of  the  same  material,  comple- 
ted her  costume  and  ornaments. 

With  a  proud  carriage,  and  an  unabash- 
ed look  from  her  dark,  eloquent  eye,  she 
advanced  a  few  paces,  glanced  loftily 
around  upon  the  surprised  and  admiring 
spectators,  and  then  struck  the  palms  of 
her  hands  together  in  rapid  succession. 
In  a  moment  her  Indian  pony  came  pran- 
cing to  her  side.  With  a  single  bound  she 
vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  gracefully  wa- 
ving us  a  silent  adieu,  instantly  vanished 
through  the  open  gateway. 

Rushing  out  of  the  fort,  the  excited 
crowd  barely  caught  one  more  glimpse  of 
hei-  beautiful  form,  ere  it  became  complete- 
ly lost  in  the  neighboring  forest. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


"  Who  is  she?  who  can  she  be!"  cried 
a  dozen  persons  at  once. 

"  Pkairie  Flower,  or  I'm  a  nigger," 
shouted  a  well  known  voice  in  reply. 

I  turned  and  beheld  Black  George  al- 
ready working  himself  up  to  a  great  pitch 
of  excitement. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

PRAIRIE  FLOWER  AND  HER  ALARMING  IN- 
TELLIGENCE  SUPERSTITION SPECULA- 
TION— THE  DILEMMA — KIT  CARSON's  SUG- 
GESTION— THE  DECISION — TEACHING  TED- 
DY  THE    MARCH THE    SCOUTS THE 

HALT  AND  PREPARATIONS  FOR   FIGHT. 

The  news  brought  by  Prairie  Flower 
we  learned  in  the  course  of  the  evening 
was  of  the  utmost  importance — being  to 
the  effect  that  a  large  band  of  warriors, 
composed  chiefly  of  Oglallahs  and  Chey- 
ennes,  had  taken  up  their  position  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Bitter  Cattonwood — a  place  some 
twenty-five  miles  distant — and  that  they 
had  vowed  to  cut  off  all  the  whites  that 
came  that  way,  either  going  to  or  com- 
ing from  Oregon.  The  result  of  this  in- 
formation was  to  cause  no  little  alarm 
in  the  station,  particularly  among  the 
emigrants,  who  being  for  the  greater  part 
composed  of  women  and  children,  were 
consequently  in  no  fit  condition  to  brave 
the  assaults  of  a  blood-thirsty  body  of 
savages. 

But  who  was  Prairie  Flower. — the  mys- 
terious messenger  that  belonged  to  the 
Indians,  and  yet  c2me  like  a  guardian  an- 
gel to  warn  the  whites  of  their  danger] 
Who  was  she  indeed!  None  could  an- 
swer. To  all  save  the  commander  of  the 
garrison  and  Black  George,  (who  now  had 
to  rehearse  his  remarkable  story  a  dozen 
times,  to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  the  ex- 
cited inquirers,  and  who  became  a  person- 
age of  no  little  importance  in  consequenca,) 
she  was  an  utter  stranger;  and  for  all  any 
one  knew  to  the  contrary,  might  have 
dropped  from  the  skies,  a  winged  being 
of  a  fairer  realm.  The  commander  of  the 
garrison,  whom  I  shall  term  Captain  Bal- ' 


colm,  had  seen  her  once  before,  when  she 
came  to  warn  him  of  the  Sioux,  who  were 
meditating  a  descent  upon  the  fort,  a  sur- 
prise and  general  massacre  of  its  inmates, 
and  whose  design  by  this  timely  notice 
was  thwarted;  but  regarding  who  she 
was,  how  she  gained  her  information,  to 
what  tribe  she  belonged,  or  why  she  was 
permitted  to  do  these  good  acts  and  es- 
cape— he  could  give  no  satisfactory  reply. 
On  both  occasions  she  had  required  a  pri- 
vate audience  with  him;  and  on  the  form- 
er one  had  sent  a  request  to  him  by  an  In- 
dian half-breed,  to  meet  her  in  a  little 
grove  some  hundred  or  so  of  yards  distant 
from  the  walls  of  the  fortress. 

At  first  he  had  refused  to  go  unattend- 
ed, for  fear  of  some  stratagem  to  take  his 
life  or  make  him  prisoner.  The  messen- 
ger had  gone  back  evidently  dissatisfied, but 
in  a  few  minutes  had  returned  with  a  skin 
parchment,  on  which  the  same  request,  as 
orally  delivered,  was  written  with  a  charred 
stick,  with  the  additional  statement  that 
the  writer  was  a  female,  and  that  the  news 
she  had  to  convey  was  of  great  moment. 

Ashamed  to  show  further  cowardice,  he 
had  armed  himself  to  the  teeth,  and  call- 
ing his  garrison  round  him,  had  notified 
them  to  be  in  readiness  to  protect  the  fort 
if  besieged,  and.  avenge  him  on  the  half- 
breed,  whom  he  left  with  them  as  hostage, 
in  case  he  returned  not  within  two  hours 
— merely  stating,  by  way  of  explanation  j 
that  he  was  going  to  hold  a  private  con- 
ference with  a  distinguished  chief.  The 
result  of  this  conference,  as  before  stated, 
had  been  to  save  the  lives  of  all,  and 
defeat  a  well  laid  scheme  of  their  ene- 
mies. 

Captain  Balcolm  furthermore  stated,  that 
Prairie  Flower,  as  she  called  herself,  spoke 
the  English  language  well  and  fluently; 
and  that  to  his  inquiry  regarding  herself 
and  tribe,  she  had  answered  with  a  smile, 
that  she  must  ever  remain  a  mysterious 
being  to  him  and  all  of  his  race;  that  as 
to  tribe,  she  found  herself  a  welcome 
guest  with  all — came  and  went  as  she 
chose  without  question  or  hindrance — 
and  that  the  language  of  each  she  under- 
stood and  spoke  as  readily  as  her  mother 
tongue. 


62 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


"  In  conclusion,"  added  the  gallant  cap- 
tain, "  I  must  say,  that  with  all  my  expe- 
rience, I  have  never  seen  so  perfect,  so 
mysterious,  and  at  the  same  time  so  in- 
comprehensible a  being  as  herself.  Were 
I  superstitious,  I  should  unquestionably  be 
tempted  to  doubt  my  senses,  and  believe 
her  a  supernatural  visiter;  but  I  have 
touched  her,  and  Icnou:  that  she  is  flesh  and 
blood." 

Many  there  were  in  the  fort,  however, 
who  had  not  so  much  faith  in  her  identity 
with  an  earthly  habitant  as  the  captain; 
and  I  often  heard  confidential  whispers 
to  the  effect,  that  she  was  a  being  from 
another  realm,  who  had  assumed  the  mor- 
tal shape  for  the  time,  merely  to  bring 
about  some  special  design  of  the  Great 
Spirit;  and  that  when  said  design  sliouldbe 
accomplished,  she  would  never  be  seen 
again  by  living  mortal. 

The  Indian,  it  is  well  known  to  all  who 
know  any  thing  of  his  history,  is  the  most 
superstitious  creature  on  earth,  and  be- 
lieves in  the  direct  interference  of  spirits, 
in  bodily  shape  or  otherwise,  on  any  and 
every  momentous  occasion;  and  as  the 
trapper  or  hunter  is  but  little  removed  from 
him  by  civilization,  and  not  a  whit  by 
knowledge  gained  from  letters,  it  is  hardly 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  would  im- 
bibe ideas  at  war  with  those  among  whom 
the  most  of  his  eventful  life  is  spent.  In 
his  earliest  venture,  he  learns  and  adopts 
the  habits  of  his  enemy, and  in  some  cases 
it  would  seem  his  very  nature  also;  and  the 
result  is,  that  he  becomes  at  last  neither 
more  nor  less  than  what  I  may  venture  to 
term  a  civilized  savage.  And  here  I  may 
remark,  en  passant,  that  your  real,  bona 
£de  mountaineer,  rarely  looks  beyond  the 
lodge  of  some  favorite  tribe  for  a  partner 
to  share  his  toils  and  rear  his  progeny; 
and  to  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  even  the 
garrison  of  Fort  Laramie  bore  striking 
evidence;  for  scarcely  a  wife  among  them, 
but  was  a  full-blooded  squaw — nor  a  child, 
but  bore  the  cross  of  the  red  man  and 
white. 

Various  were  the  speculations  that  night 
regarding  Prairie  Flower  and  her  alarming 
intelligence.  The  truthfulness  of  the  lat- 
ter none   seemed    to   question,  however 


much  they  might  the  identity  of  the  form- 
er with  the  race  called  mortal.  That  the 
Indians  were  at  Bitter  Cottonwood  in  great 
force,  was  thcrefore'a  matter  beyond  dis- 
pute; and  the  question  was,  what  should 
be  done  under  the  circumstances?  To  re- 
main inactive,  was  only  to  act  the  part  of 
cowards,  doom  a  portion  of  tlieir  own  race 
to  certain  destruction,  augment  the  confi- 
dence of  the  wily  foe  in  his  own  resources, 
and  consequently  raise  his  hopes  with  the 
flush  of  success,  and  add  to  his  daring  and 
temerity.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
assail  him  in  all  his  strength  in  his  own 
stronghold,  with  only  a  handful  of  men, 
was  like  rushing  unarmed  into  the  lion's 
den  and  courting  speedy  annihilation.  In 
this  dilemma  what  was  to  be  done!  Some- 
thing, all  admitted,  must  be  done,  and  that 
quickly — but  what  that  something  was, 
now  became  a  matter  of  serious  delibera- 
tion. Some  proposed  one  thing,  and  some 
another,  and  the  discussion  waxed  warm, 
and  seemed  likely  to  be  protracted  indef- 
finitely,  without  resulting  in  the  agree- 
ment of  any  two  to  the  proposal  of  any 
other  two. 

At  length  Kit  Carson,  who  had  sat  and 
listened  attentively  without  venturing  a 
remark,  observed: 

"  Say  what  you  will,  comrades,  thar  is 
after  all  but  one  way  of  settling  this  affair, 

and  that  is  to  pitch  into  the varmints 

and  lift  their  hair.  I've  had  a  little  expe- 
rience in  my  time,  if  I  am  young  in  years, 
and  may  safely  say  I've  never  knowed  an 
Indian  yet  as  wasn't  a  coward,  when  as- 
sailed in  a  vigorous  manner  by  a  deter- 
mined pale-face.  I've  rode  right  among 
thar  lodges  before  now,  and  alone,  single- 
handed,  raised  a  top-knot  in  full  view  of 
fifty  able  bodied  warriors,  and  their  squaws 
and  pappooses.  Now  if  I  could  do  this 
myself,  it  argues  favorably  for  an  attack 
upon  them  in  numbers." 

"But  what,  then, do  you  propose?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"  Why,  sir,  to  arm  and  mount  on  good 
horses  a  dozen  or  fifteen  of  us,  dash  into 
them,  and  fight  our  way  out." 

As  he  said  this,  his  brow  wrinkled,  his 
eyes  flashed,  while  his  whole  countenance 
exhibited  traces  of  that  fiery,  reckless  dar- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  PAR  WEST. 


63 


ing,  which,  together  with  its  opposite, 
coolness  and  great  presence  of  mind,  had 
already  rendered  him  so  famous  in  the  wil- 
derness. I  saw  at  once,  that  however  mild 
and  quiet  he  might  appear  when  not  exci- 
ted, it  only  needed  an  occasion  like  the 
present  to  bring  out  his  latent  energies, 
and  make  him  a  terrible  foe  to  contend 
with. 

"  Well,"  I  rejoined,  "  although  I  came 
merely  for  adventure,  and  beyond  that 
have  no  object  in  pursuing  my  way  fur- 
ther, yet  I  will  readily  volunteer  my  ser- 
vices in  a  case  of  such  emergency." 

"And  I,"  responded  Huntly,  quickly. 

"  Your  hands,  gentlemen!"  said  Carson. 
"  I  took  you  for  men,  and  I  see  I  was  not 
mistaken.     Who  next?" 

This  rapid  decision  produced  an  electri- 
cal effect  upon  all,  and  in  a  moment  a  dp- 
zen  affirmative  answers  responded  to  the 
challenge,  while  each,  eager  to  get  ahead 
of  his  neighbor,  now  pressed  around  the 
young,  famous,  and  daring  mountaineer. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour,  all  prelimina- 
ries were  settled,  and  sixteen  hardy,  able 
bodied  men  were  mustered  into  the  ranks. 
These  included  the  four  trappers  who  had 
been  our  companions,  together  with  Hunt- 
ly, Teddy  and  myself. 

It  was  then  agreed  that  Kit  Carson 
should  be  our  leader,  and  that  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  we  should  mount  ourselves  on 
■  the  best  horses  that  could  be  procured,  and 
taking  a  roundabout  course,  should  ap- 
proach the  savages  as  near  as  possible 
without  being  discovered,  and  await  the 
night  to  commence  our  attack.  This  mat- 
ter settled,  we  retired  to  rest,  some  of  us 
for  the  last  time  before  taking  that  final 
sleep  which  knows  no  waking. 

Rolling  myself  in  a  buffalo  skin,  I  threw 
myself  upon  the  ground — but  it  was  a 
long  time  before  I  could  close  my  eyes  in 
slumber.  Thoughts  of  what  another  night 
might  bring  forth,  kept  me  awake.  I  might 
be  lying  cold  and  dead  upon  the  earth,  a 
prey  to  wild  beasts — or,  what  was  more 
terrifying,  be  a  living  captive  to  a  merce- 
less  foe,  doomed  to  the  awful  tortures  of 
the  stake.  I  thought  too  of  home — of  Li- 
lian— of  the  mysterious  Prairie  Flower — 
and  in  the  confusion   of  all    these,    fell 


asleep,  to    find  them  strangely  commin- 
gled in  my  dreams. 

The  morning  broke  bright  and  beautiful; 
and  ere  the  sun  had  more  than  gilded  the 
loftiest  peak  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  we 
were  all  astir,  preparing  for  our  hazardous 
expedition.  With  the  assistance  of  Captain 
Balcolm,  we  succeeded  in  mustering  six- 
teen fine  horses,  including  of  course  those 
we  had  brought  with  us.  We  then  armed 
ourselves  to  the  teeth,  with  rifles,  pistols, 
knives  and  tomahawks,  and  partaking  of 
a  savory  breakfast  tendered  us  by  the  gal- 
lant commander  of  the  garrison,  prepared 
ourselves  to  sally  forth. 

Before  we  departed,  how^ever,  I  had  a 
task,  which  proved  far  more  amusing 
than  desirable,  in  explaining  to  Teddy 
the  proper  method  of  using  his  rifle  and 
pistols,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  must 
conduct  himself  in  the  forthcoming  fight. 
Having  shown  him  how  to  load,  prime 
and  sight  the  former  weapon,  I  discharged 
it  at  a  target,  and  ordered  him  to  imitate 
my  examgle  with  all  the  despatch  possible. 

"  Jabers!"  shouted  Teddy,  in  great  glee, 
scampering  off  to  the  target  to  make  an 
examination  of  my  shot. 

In  a  moment  he  returned,  bringing  it 
with  him;  and  pointing  triumphantly  to  a 
bullet  hole  which  he  found  in  its  center,he 
said: 

"  Troth,  your  honor,  but  thim  same 
shooters  is  beauthiful  things,  now,  for  mur- 
theringthe  baastly  blaggards  of  Injins,  jist. 
Here,  now,  ye's  boured  a  howle  right  cin- 
tral  as  asy  as  meself  could  do  wid  a  gimlet, 
and  yees  a  standing  there  too  all  tht"" 
whiles!  Be  me  sowl  too!  an',  now  I  re- 
mimbers  I  didn't  sae  the  ball  at  all,  at  ali. 
though  I  looked  mighty  sharp  at  it  all  the 
time  wid  my  two  eyes.  Howly  murther' 
but  Amirica  is  a  great  counthry  now,  bar- 
ring the  tieving  baasts  of  savages  that's  in 
it." 

Something  like  an  hour  was  spent  in 
making  Teddy  familiar  with  the  rifle,  at 
the  end  of  which,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
finding  him  fit  for  duty.  By  this  time  ali 
save  he  and  I  were  in  their  saddles;  and 
hastily  mounting,  we  joined  the  cavalcade 
— Carson  in  the  van — and  amid  three 
hearty  cheers  from  the   regular  garrifor. 


64 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


(most  of  whom  remained  to  protect  the 
station),  and  earnest  prayers  from  all  for 
our  safety  and  success  in  the  coming  con- 
test— we  quitted  the  fort. 

Shaping  our  course  along  the  hank  of 
the  river,  we  advanced  some  ten  or  fifteen 
miles  over  the  regular  Oregon  route,  when 
we  came  to  a  place  called  Big  Spring,  which 
takes  its  name  from  a  large  spring  of  wa- 
ter gushing  out  at  the  base  of  a  steep  hill, 
some  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the  travelled 
road.  Here  we  halted  and  held  a  council 
of  war  regarding  our  further  progress, 
which  resulted  in  the  decision  to  quit  the 
road  at  this  point,  and,  by  striking  off  to 
the  leit,  keeping  ourselves  covered  as  much 
as  possible  in  the  wood,  endeavor  to 
gain  a  safe  lodgement  near  the  Indian 
camp,  and  remain  quiet  till  after  nightfall, 
when  we  must  be  guided  wholly  by  cir- 
cumstances. It  was  also  thought  prudent  to 
throw  out  a  few  scouts  in  advance,  lest  we 
unknowingly  should  enter  an  ambuscade 
and  all  be  cut  off.  For  this  purpose  Car- 
son dismounted,  and  appointing  me  his 
lieutenant,  gave  me  private  instructions  re- 
garding the  route,  and  at  what  point,  pro- 
vided he  had  not  joined  us  meantime,  I  was 
to  halt  and  await  him.  Then  ordering  two 
Canadian-French  voyageurs  to  dismount 
also,  he  said  a  few  words  to  them  in  a 
jargon!  did  not  understand, and  in  another 
moment  all  three  had  separated,  and  were 
buried  in  the  surrounding  wood  at  so  many 
different  points  of  compass. 

Leading  the  unridden  horses  of  the 
scouts,  we  slowly  picked  our  way  over 
rough  and  sometimes  dangerous  ground, 
keeping  a  sharp  look  out  on  every  side  for 
fear  of  surprise,  until  the  sun  had  reached 
within  an  hour  and  a  half  of  the  horizon, 
when  we  came  to  a  beautiful  little  open 
plat,  covered  with  rich  green  grass  and 
blooming  wild  flowers,  in  the  center  of 
which  bubbled  up  a  cool  crystal  spring, 
forming  a  sparkling  little  rivulet,  and  the 
whole  of  which  was  surrounded  by  a  dense 
thicket,  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant at  any  point.  This  beautiful  spot  to 
me  seemed  the  oasis  of  the  desert;  and  be- 
ing to  the  best  of  my  judgement  the  one 
described  by  Kit,  where  I  was  to  await  him, 
1  accordingly  ordered  a  halt.    Dismounting 


and  refreshing  ourselves  at  the  spring,  we 
watered  our  animals  and  allowed  them  to 
graze  around  us,  holding  fast  to  the  bridle 
reins  the  while,  prepared  to  re-mount  at  a 
moment's  notice  or  the  first  sign  of  dan- 
ger. 

Half  an  hour  passed  in  this  way,  and 
some  of  the  mountaineers  were  becoming 
impatient,  when,  to  our  great  delight,  we 
beheld  the  welcome  visage  of  Carson,  as 
he  glided  noiselessly  into  the  open  plat  and 
rejoined  us.  And,  singular  enough!  al- 
most at  the  same  moment  the  two  voya- 
geurs made  their  appearance,  at  diff'erent 
points,  not  one  of  the  three  having  seen 
either  of  the  others  since  their  parting  from 
us  in  the  morning. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Carson, "  thar'll  have 
to  be  some  warm  doings  to  a  certainty; 
and  those  of  you  who  aint  prepared  to  lose 
your  scalps,  had  better  be  backing  out  or 
getting  ready  as  soon  as  convenient." 

"Have  you  seen  the  Indians!"  asked 
Huntly. 

"  Well  I  have,  and  know  Prairie  Flower 
didn't  lie  either.  Thar  ur  three  distinct 
lodges  of  them — composed  of  Sioux,  Chey- 
ennes  and  Blackfeet — at  least  to  the  best  of 
my  judgment,  for  I  didn't  like  venturing  too 
close.  They  are  camped  in  a  little  hollow 
just  below  Bitter  Cottonwood,  not  more 
than  three  miles  distant,  and  evidently 
have  no  suspicion  of  our  being  near  them." 

"  Well,  what  is  now  to  be  done?"  I  asked. 

"  Wait  till  I've  had  a  talk  with  these 
Canadians." 

With  this  Kit  called  the  scouts  aside, 
and  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation,  re- 
turned to  me  and  said: 

"La  Fanche  and  Grenois  both  report, 
they've  seen  no  Indian  signs  to  alarm, 
from  which  I  argue,  that  thinking  them- 
selves secure  where  they  ar,  the  savages 
haven't  taken  thar  usual  precaution  to  send 
out  scouts.  Regarding  the  plan  of  attack, 
I  think  we'd  better  let  our  horses  feed 
here  till  dark,  and  then  ride  through  the 
forest  for  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,  cache 
them,  and  take  it  afoot.  I've  got  the  plan 
fixed  in  my  head,  and  will  tell  you  more 
then.  And  now  let's  feed  and  smoke 
while  we've  got  time." 

We  had  provided  ourselves  with  a  good 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


65 


supply  of  jerk,  and  as  none  of  us  had  eat- 
en a  morsel  since  leaving  the  fort,  we  pro- 
ceeded to  satisfy  the  demands  of  nature. 
This  done,  we  lighted  our  pipes  and  smoked 
and  talked  till  the  shades  of  night  warned 
us  to  be  again  on  the  move.  Guided  by 
Kit,  we  entered  the  thicket  and  advanced 
slowly,  cautiously  and  silently,  for  the  bet- 
ter part  of  an  hour,  when  we  came  to  a 
dense  cover  of  cottonwood. 

"  Halt  and  rope,"  said  Kit,  in  a  low  tone. 

la  a  moment  each  man  was  on  the 
ground,  and  engaged  in  attaching  his  horse 
securely  to  a  tree,  though  so  dark  was  it 
here  that  every  thing  had  to  be  done  by 
the  sense  of  touch. 

"  See  that  all  your  arms  ar  about  you, 
and  ready,  and  then  follow  me,  Indian 
file,"  said  Carson  again;  and  in  less  than 
three  minutes,  with  '=itealthy  tread,  sixteen 
determined  men,  one  after  another,  glided 
from  the  thicket  into  an  open  wood,  like 
so  many  specters  stalking  from  the  tombs 
of  the  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   evening's    CAMP — OUR   STEPS    KETRA- 

ced our   second  advance terrible 

ambuscade the  bloody  contest kit 

Carson's    wonderful     feats b.ein- 

TnpHF.MEiMT     OP     THE      ENEMY immense 

slaughter MY  horse  KILLED — A  FOOT 

ENCOUNTER — DESPAIR — KIT's   EFFORT  TO 
SAVE  ME UNCONSCIOUSNESS, 

Some  three-fourths  of  a  mile  brought 
us  to  the  brow  of  a  hill,  whence  we  could 
overlook  the  stronghold  of  the  enemy. — 
Immediately  below  us  were  several  lodges 
made  of  skins,  around  which  we  could 
faintly  perceive  numerous  dark  figures  mo- 
ving to  and  fro,  and  evidently,  as  we  thought, 
preparing  to  turn  in  for  the  night.  A  lit- 
tle beyond  this  was  another  encampment 
or  cluster  of  lodges,  and  still  beyond  an- 
other— the  three  taken  together  number- 
ing not  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  warriors.  And  here  stood  we, 
a  little  band  of  sixteen  men,  about  to  as- 


sail at  the  least  calculation  ten  times  our 
own  force.  What  rashness!  what  a  fool- 
hardy undertaking! 

"  Charles,"  whispered  I  to  my  friend, 
"  it  is  well  that  you  and  I  are  single  men." 

"Why  so,  Frunk!" 

"  Because  neither  wife  nor  child  will  be 
left  to  mourn  our  loss." 

"  That  is  true,"  answered  he  with  a  sigh. 
"  But  do  you  then  think  our  doom  cer- 
tain!" 

"  If  we  attack  I  do;  or  at  least,  that  we 
have  ten  chances  against  us  to  one  in  our 
favor." 

"  It  won't  do,"  whispered  Carson  at  this 
moment,  retreating  a  few  paces,  and  mo- 
tioning us  to  follow  him.  Then  he  added 
in  a  low  tone: 

"  We're  too  soon,  and  it  will  never  do 
to  try  it  afoot.  I  must  stick  to  my  first 
calculation.  Our  only  chance  of  escape 
from  certain  death  must  be  by  our  horses. 
We'll  return  to  them  and  await  the  mid- 
watch  of  night.  Then  we  must  dash 
among  them,  raise  all  the  hair  we  can,  and 
split  for  cover,  or  we  shall  be  rubbed  out 
before  we  know  it.  I  thought  when  I  re- 
connoitered,  it  would  do  better  to  steal  in 
among  them  and  work  silently — but  I  see 
now  our  only  hope  is  by  storm." 

Accordingly  we  retraced  our  steps,  and 
having  gained  the  cover  where  our  animals 
were  concealed,  squatted  down  upon  th& 
earth.  As  it  was  yet  too  early  for  our 
meditated  attack,  we  once  more  replenish- 
ed our  pipes,  and  enjoyed  the  refreshing: 
fragrance  of  some  prime  tobacco. 

"  I  say.  Kit,"  observed  Black  George, 
"what  d'ye  think  o' that  thar  Injin  gal, 
hey]" 

"  Think  she's  a  mysterious  one." 

"  Ever  seed  her  afore!" 

"Never." 

"  I  have — augh!  Think  she's  a  speret, 
hey!" 

"  No!  think  she's  a  human." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  I  do!  I  jest 
believe  she's  got  wings  and  ken  fly — ef  I 
don't,  call  me  a  nigger  and  put  me  among 
the  cotton  plants — augh!" 

"  Faith,  thin,  Misther  Black  George, 
yees  and  mcsilf  is  thinking  much  alike 
now,"  interposed  Teddy.     ''I  thought  all 


66 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


the  whiles  she  was  a  bir-r-d,  barring  the 
feathers  which  is  all  beads  on  her." 

"  Augh! — put  out  for  a  greenhorn  now," 
returned  the  old  trapper  sarcastically. 
"She's  no  bir-rer-rerd  as  you  sez.  She's 
a  aiigel,  she  is — ef  she  isn't,  heyars  what 
don't  know  'fat  cow  from  poor  bull.'  " 

Talking  of  Prairie  Flower,  our  present 
design,  together  with  various  other  nnatters, 
we  whiled  away  some  too  or  three  hours, 
when  Carson  notified  us  it  was  time  to  be 
on  the  move.  Mounting  once  more  our 
horses,  we  set  forward,  and  bearing  to  the 
left,  descended  immediately  into  the  valley 
in  which  the  foe  was  camped,  instead  of 
keeping  along  the  brow  of  the  ridge  as  be- 
fore. We  were  now  compelled  to  use  the 
utmost  caution,  as  the  least  sound  might 
betray  us  and  thwart  our  plans. 

At  length  we  agaia  made  a  halt  in  full 
view  of  the  dark  lodges,  which  were  faint- 
ly perceptible  in  the  dim  light  of  the  stars, 
and  one  or  two  smouldering  fires  near  the 
center  of  the  encampment.  All  was  still 
as  the  grave,  and,  from  any  thing  we  could 
discover  to  the  contrary,  as  devoid  of  living 
thing.  Not  a  word,  not  even  a  whisper, 
was  heard  from  one  of  our  party.  Each  sat 
erect  upon  his  horse,  motionless  as  a 
statue,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  some  object  be- 
fore him,  and  his  mind  it  may  be  upon 
death  and  the  great  hereafter.  At  least 
so  was  mine;  and  though  I  rarely  knew 
fear,  yet  from  some  unaccountable  cause  I 
now  felt  my  heart  die  within  mft,  as  if 
something  dreadful  were  about  to  uefall 
me.  Our  pause  was  but  momentary;  but 
in  that  short  space  of  time,  methought  I 
lived  a  year. 

"  Forward!"  whispered  Carson,  solemn- 
ly. "  Each  man  for  himself,  and  God  for 
us  all!" 

Scarcely  had  the  sentence  passed  his 
lips,  when,  to  our  astonishment  and  dismay, 
a  tremendous  volley  rang  on  all  side  3  of 
us,  and  a  shower  of  bullets  and  arrows 
came  whizzing  through  the  air,  accompa- 
nied by  yells  that  made  my  blood  run  cold; 
while  on  every  hand  we  beheld  a  legion 
of  dark  figures  suddenly  spring  from  the 
earth,  their  murderous  knives  and  toma- 
hawks faintly  gleaming  in  the  dim  light, 
as,  flourishing  them  over  their  heads,  and  ' 


yelling  their  appalling  war-whoops,  they 
bore  down  upon  us  in  overwhelming  num- 
bers. To  add  to  our  consternation,  we 
heard  the  thundering  tramp  of  a  body  of 
horse,  in  front  and  rear,  rushing  up  to  join 
our  enemies  and  hem  us  in  completely. 

Instead  of  surprising  the  enemy  as  ex- 
pected, we  had  found  ourselves  surprised 
in  turn,  and  drawn  into  a  terrible  ambus- 
cade, from  which  there  seemed  no  chance 
of  escape.  Our  design  had  doubtless  been 
betrayed — but  by  whom  I  had  no  time  for 
conjecture;  for  what  between  the  yells  of 
savages — groans  and  curses  from  our  own 
little  band — many  of  which  had  been 
wounded  and  some  seriously — the  rearing 
and  plunging  of  the  horses,  and  my  desire 
to  do  the  best  I  could  for  myself  and  friends 
— I  had  no  time  for  speculation.  Two  of 
the  enemy's  balls  had  passed  through  my 
hat — one  of  them  within  an  inch  of  my 
skull — and  another  through  the  sleeves  of 
my  frock,  slightly  grazing  my  arm;  but 
fortunately  none  had  injured  myself  nor 
horse. 

"  Riddle  them — tear  out  thar  hearts — 
scalp  and  send  them  to  h — l!"  shouted 
Carson,  in  a  voice  that  rose  distinctly 
above  the  din  of  conflict;  and  wheeling 
his  charger,  he  dashed  into  the  thickest 
of  the  fray,  with  that  utter  disregard  to 
personal  safety,  which  Napoleon  once  dis- 
played at  the  far  famed  bridge  of  Lodi. 

Determined  to  share  the  fate  of   Kit, 

wlmtpvor  it  miglit    Lo,  I    called    to  I-Iuntly 

to  join  me,  and  rushed  my  horse  along  side 
of  his.  Now  it  was  that  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  witnessing  that  coolness  and  in- 
trepidity, those  almost  superhuman  re- 
sources and  exertions,  which,  together 
with  other  matters,  have  rendered  the 
name  of  Kit  Carson  immortal. 

Discharging  his  rifle  and  pistols  at  the 
first  he  came  to,  Carson  raised  himself  in 
his  stirrups,  and  swinging  the  former  wea- 
pon over  his  head,  with  as  much  apparent 
ease  as  if  a  mere  wisp,  he  brought  it  down 
upon  the  skulls  of  the  dusky  horde  around 
him  with  fatal  effect.  Not  less  than  a  do- 
zen in  the  space  of  twice  as  many  seconds 
bit  the  dust  beneath  its  weight,  while  his 
horse,  madly  rearing  and  plunging,  trod 
down  some  four  or  five  more.     Still  they 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


67 


thickened  around  us,  (for  Huntly  and  my- 
self were  along  side,  imitating  to  the  best 
of  our  ability  his  noble  example,)  and  still 
that  weapon,  already  reeking  with  blood, 
was  hurled  upon  them  with  the  same  as- 
tonishing rapidity  and  the  same  wonderful 
success. 

On  every  iKind  we  were  hemmed  in,  and 
every  man  among  us  was  fighting  valiant- 
ly for  his  own  life  and  vengeance.  There 
was  no  opportunity  for  cowardice — no 
chance  for  flight — retreat  was  cut  off — we 
must  fight  or  die.  All  seemed  to  under- 
stand this,  and  used  superhuman  exertions 
to  overcome  the  foe,  who  fell  before  us  as 
grass  before  the  scythe  of  the  mower;  but 
alas  for  us!  only  to  have  their  places  sup- 
plied by  others  equally  as  blood-thirsty  and 
equally  as  determined  on  our  annihilation. 

On  all  sides  resounded  hideous  yells,  and 
curses,  and  groans,  and  shouts — mingled 
with  the  reports  of  firearms,  and  the  clash 
of  deadly  weapons.  Fear  we  knew  not — 
at  least  I  judge  by  myself — for  under  the 
intoxicating  excitement  of  the  time,  I  ex- 
perienced no  passion  but  uncontrollable 
rage  and  a  desire  to  vent  it  upon  our  swar- 
thy foe.  Success  so  far  had  been  with  us, 
and  numbers  of  the  enemy  had  fallen  to 
rise  no  more,  while  all  but  two  of  our  own 
party  were  in  their  saddles,  though  some 
of  them  badly  wounded.  Above  the  tu- 
mult and  din,  I  could  now  distinguish  the 
voices  of  Carson,  the  trappers  and  Teddy, 
showing  that  each  was  doing  his  duty. 

"Down,  old  paint  face!"  cried  one. 

"  Take  that,  and  keep  them  company  as 
has  gone  under  afore  ye!"  shouted  an- 
other. 

"  H — I's  full  o'  sich  imps  as  you!"  roared 
a  third. 

"  To  the  divil  wid  ye  now,  ye  bloody 
nagers!  for  attacking  honest,  dacent  white 
paaples — ye  murthering  tieves  of  Sathan, 
yees!"  yelled  the  excited  Irishman',  as,  in 
all  the  glory  of  making  a  shelalah  of  his 
rifle,  he  laid  about  him  right  worthily. 

At  this  moment,  when  the  foot  began  to 
waver — when  victory  was  almost  ours — up 
thundered  some  thirty  horsemen  to  rein- 
force our  foes,  revive  their  courage,  and 
render  our  case  terribly  desperate,  if  not 
hopeless. 


"  At  'em,  boys!"  shouted  Carson,  appar- 
ently not  the  least  disheartened;  and  dri- 
ving his  spurs  into  his  horse,  dropping  his 
bridle  rein  upon  the  saddle  bow,  hurling 
his  already  broken  and  useless  rifle  at  the 
heads  of  the  nearest  Indians,  and  drawing 
his  knife  and  tomahawk,  he  charged  upon 
the  new  comers,  seemingly  v;ith  as  much 
confidence  in  his  success  as  if  backed  by 
a  whole  battalion. 

No  wonder  Kit  Carson  was  famous — for 
he  seemed  a  whole  army  of  himself.  A 
bare  glimpse  of  one  of  his  feats  astonish- 
ed me,  and  for  the  moment  almost  made 
me  doubt  my  senses.  Two  powerful  In- 
dians, hard  abreast,  weapons  in  hand,  and 
well  mounted,  rushed  lipon  him  at  once, 
and  involuntarily  I  uttered  a  cry  of  horror, 
for  I  thought  him  lost.  But  no!  With 
an  intrepidity  equalled  only  by  his  activi- 
ty, a  weapon  in  either  hand,  he  rushed  his 
horse  between  the  two,  and  dodging  by 
some  unaccountable  means  the  blows  aim- 
ed at  his  life,  buried  his  knife  in  the  breast 
of  one,  and  at  the  same  moment  his  toma- 
hawk in  the  brain  of  the  other.  One 
frightful  yell  of  rage  and  despair,  and  two 
riderless  steeds  went  dashing  on. 

Side  by  side  with  Huntly,!  fought  with 
the  desperation  of  a  madman,  and  per- 
formed feats  which  astonished  even  my- 
self. Thrice  did  I  find  my  bridle  rein  seiz- 
ed by  no  less  than  three  or  four  stalwart 
savages,  and  thought  that  all  was  over;, 
but  as  often,  by  some  inexplicable  means, 
my  path  was  cleared,  and  not  a  scratcli 
upon  my  person. 

For  ten  minutes  did  the  carnage  rage 
thus,  during  which  time  no  less  than  forty 
of  our  foes  had  been  killed  or  disabled, 
and  six  of  our'own  gallant  band  had  gone 
from  among  the  living.  Still  the  savages 
pressed  around  us,  and  I  now  found  my 
situation  growing  more  and  more  despe- 
rate. From  over  exertion,  I  began  to  feel 
weak;  and  my  gallant  steed,  having  been 
less  fortunate  than  I,  was  already  stagger- 
ing under  his  wounds.  A  few  more  pain- 
ful eff'orts  to  bear  down  upon  his  foes,  and 
he  reeled,  dropped  upon  his  knees,  tried  to 
recover,  failed,  and  at  last  rolled  over  upon 
his  side  and  expired. 

As  he  went  down,  I  leaped  from  his 


68 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


back  to  the  ground,  and  instantly  found 
myself  surrounded  by  savages.  Striking 
right  and  left  with  renewed  activity,  I 
shouted  to  Huntly,  and  in  a  moment  he 
charged  to  my  rescue,  and  hy  our  combined 
exertions  we  managed  for  a  moment  or 
two  to  keep  the  foe  at  bay.  But  the 
strength  of  both  of  us  was  failing  rapidly, 
and  already  I  found  myself  bleeding  from 
numerous  flesh  wounds.  A  few  stabs  and 
one  musket  shot  killed  the  horse  of  my 
friend,  who  was  by  this  means  brought  to 
the  same  desperate  strait  as  myself. 

"It  is  all  over,  Frank,"  he  groaned,  as  a 
blow  on  the  head  staggered  him  back 
against  me. 

"  Never  say  die,"  I  shouted,  as  with  my 
remaining  strength  I  sprang  forward  and 
plunged  my  knife  into  the  breast  of  the 
aggressor,  whose  hatchet  was  already 
raised  for  a  final  and  fatal  stroke. 

Partly  recovering  from  my  lunge,  a 
blow  on  the  back  of  my  neck  brought  me 
to  my  knees;  and  before  I  could  regain  my 
feet,  I  saw  another  aimed  at  my  head  by 
a  powerful  Indian,  who  was  standing  over 
me.  At  this  moment,  when  I  thought  my 
time  had  come,  and  "  God  have  mercy  on 
my  soul!"  was  trembling  on  my  lips,  Kit 
Carson,  like  an  imbodied  spirit  of  battle; 
thundered  past  me  on  his  powerful  charger, 
and  bending  forward  in  his  saddle,  with 
a  motion  quick  as  lightning  itself, 
seized  the  scalp  lock  of  my  antagonist  in 
one  hand,  and  with  the  uther  cmnpletely 
severed  his  head  from  his  body,  which  he 
bore  triumphantly  away.  I  now  sprang 
to  my  feet,  only  to  see  my  friend  struck 
down,  and  be  felled  senseless  to  the  earth 
myself. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CONSCIOUSNESS — PAINFUL     SURMISES— 'THE 

MYSTERIOUS     OLD     INDIAN APPEARANCE 

OF    PRAIRIE     FLOWER HER.    DEVOTION— 

OUR  SINGULAR  CONVERSATION  REGARD 
ING  HERSELF  AND  TRIBE,  THE  FIGHT,  MY 
FRIENDS,  AND  MANY  OTHER  IMPORTANT 
MATTERS. 

When  consciousness  was  again  restored, 
I  found  myself  lying  on  a  pallet  of  skins, 


in  a  small, rude  cabin,  curiously  construct- 
ed of  sticks,  leaves,  earth  and  a  few  hides 
of  buffalo. 

The  first  sensation  was  one  of  painful 
confusion.  I  felt  much  as  one  does  on 
awaking  from  a  troubled  dream,  without 
being  able  to  recall  a  single  event  con- 
nected with  it,  and  yet  feeling  the  eff'ects 
of  all  combined.  I  was  aware  that  either 
something  terrible  had  happened,  or  I  had 
dreamed  it;  but  what  that  something  was, 
I  had  not  the  remotest  idea.  The  most  I 
could  bring  to  mind,  was  a  painful  sensa- 
tion of  death.  Perhaps  I  was  dead?  Hor- 
rible thought!  I  tried  to  rise,  but  could 
not — could  not  even  lift  my  head  from  its 
rude  pillow.  By  great  exertion  I  raised 
one  hand  a  little — but  the  effort  exhausted 
all  my  strength,  and  it  fell  back  heavily, 
causing  me  the  most  excruciating  pain. 

What  did  all  this  mean]  Surely  I  was 
not  dead! — for  dead  people,  I  thought  to 
myself,  feel  no  suffering.  But  where  ivas 
I,  and  how  came  I  here,  and  what  was  my 
ailment?  And  then — strange  thought — 
U'ho  was  I!  Laugh  if  you  will,  reader — 
but  I  had  actually  forgotten  my  own  name, 
and  for  the  moment  could  not  recall  a  sin- 
gle event  of  my  existence.  I  had  a  con- 
fused idea  of  having  lived  before — of  hav- 
ing been  somebody — of  having  experien- 
ced sensations  both  of  pleasure  and  pain; 
but  beyond  these,  all  was  blank  and  dark 
as  a  rayless  night. 

Suddenly  one  remembrance  after  an- 
other began  to  flash  upon  me.  First  my 
youth — my  school-boy  days — my  collegiate 
course;  and  then,  the  train  once  fired, 
years  and  events  were  passed  with  the  ve- 
locity of  thought  itself;  and  in  one  brief 
moment,  every  thing,  up  to  the  time  of  my 
fall  in  the  fight,  rose  fresh  in  my  memory. 

But  still  the  mystery  was  as  dark  as 
ever,  and  my  curiosity  as  much  unsatisfied. 
How  had  the  battle  gone?  Were  my 
friends  the  victors?  But  no!  that  were 
impossible,  or  I  should  not  be  here.  Had 
they  all  been  killed  or  taken  prisoners? 
And  Huntly — my  friend!  Great  Heaven! 
the  very  thought  of  him  made  me  shudder 
with  dread.  Alas!  he  was  dead.  I  knew 
it — I  felt  it.  I  had  seen  him  fall,  and  of 
course  he  could  not  have  escaped.     Poor. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


69 


poor  Charles  Huntly — my  bosom  compan- 
ion— friend  of  my  happier  days!  The 
very  thought  of  his  untimely  fate — cut  off 
in  the  prime  of  life — made  me  groan  with 
anguish. 

But  where  was  I,  and  how  came  I  here] 
Why  had  I  been  saved  and  not  my  friend] 
But  it  might  be  that  he  was  dead;  while 
I,  by  showing  signs  of  existence,  had  been 
brought  hither  and  restored  to  life,  only  to 
be  the  victim  of  some  oblation  of  thanks- 
giving to  the  imaginary  deity  who  had 
vouchsafed  the  victory  to  my  foes.  Ay, 
this  was  the  true,  but  horrible  solution  of 
the  mystery!  My  friends  were  dead — my 
foes  had  triumphed — and  for  this  (horrible 
thought!)  I  was  about  to  be  the  sacrifice 
of  rejoicing  on  a  heathen  shrine. 

Was  I  alone]  I  listened,  but  could  hear 
no  sound  indicating  the  presence  of  an- 
other. Not  satisfied  with  this,  I  turned 
my  head  slightly,  as  much  as  my  strength 
would  permit,  and  in  the  center  of  the 
lodge,  squatted  on  the  ground,  over  a  small 
fire,  with  a  long  pipe  in  his  mouth,  I  be- 
held a  little,  old,  dried  up  man,  whom,  but 
for  now  and  then  a  slight  motion,  I  might 
have  taken  for  a  heap  of  clay  or  a  crum- 
bled up  Egyptian  mummy — so  much  did 
the  skins  worn  around  his  body,  and  his 
own  shrivelled  and  livid  flesh  resemble 
either. 

Drawing  in  the  smoke  a  couple  of  times, 
and  puffing  it  out  to  the  right  and  left,  he 
arose  and  shuffled  toward  me.  Curious  to 
learn  the  object  of  such  a  visit,  I  thought 
it  best  to  feign  unconsciousness.  Accord- 
ingly shutting  my  eyes,  but  not  so  as  to 
prevent  my  seeing  him,  I  lay  and  watched 
his  motions. 

He  was  a  miserable  and  loathsome  look- 
ing being,  the  very  sight  of  whom  sicken- 
ed and  disgusted  me,  particularly  as  I  fan- 
cied him  my  surgeon  and  jailor,  who  would 
heal  my  wounds,  only  to  pass  me  over  to 
the  executioner.  In  height  he  could  not 
have  exceeded  five  feet  even  in  his  palmiest 
days,  and  this  was  now  much  reduced  by 
age  and  debility.  He  was  thin  and  skin- 
ny, and  his  small,  puckered  up  visage  bore 
the  complicated  autograph  of  a  century. 
His  head  was  bald,  save  a  few  white  hairs 
on  the  crown,  where  had  once  been  his 


scalp  lock;  his  nose  and  chin  almost  met 
over  his  toothless  gums;  and,  to  complete, 
his  trembling  limbs  and  tottering  frame 
exhibited  a  striking  resemblance  to  the 
bony  picture  of  death.  Only  one  feature 
about  him  gave  evidence  of  his  being  more 
than  a  mere  walking  automaton;  and  that 
was  his  keen,  eagle  eye,  whose  luster,  ap- 
parently undimmed  by  years,  still  flashed 
forth  the  unconsumed  fires  of  what  had 
once  been  a  mighty  soul,  either  for  goad 
or  evil. 

As  he  approached,  he  fastened  his  sharp 
eyes  upon  me  with  such  intensity,  that  in- 
voluntarily I  let  mine  drop  to  the  ground, 
lest  he  should  detect  the  feint.  When  I 
raised  them  again,  I  found  him  occupied 
with  some  mysterious  ceremony,  probably 
an  incantation  to  lay  the  wrath  or  solicit 
the  aid  of  some  imaginary  spirit. 

Taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  he  blew 
a  volume  of  smoke  in  a  certain  direction, 
toward  which  he  pointed  the  stem  of  his 
pipe.  This  was  done  to  the  four  cardinal 
points  of  compass,  and  then  a  volume 
was  blown  upward  and  another  downward, 
after  which  he  bent  over  me  and  went 
through  a  series  of  mysterious  signs. — 
Then  taking  one  of  my  hands  in  his,  he 
felt  my  pulse,  during  which  operation  I 
could  perceive  his  face  brighten  with  an 
expression  of  internal  satisfaction.  Then 
his  bony  fingers  were  pressed  upon  my 
forehead  and  temples,  and  a  single  "  Onh- 
chi,"  which  I  interpreted  from  his  manner 
to  mean  "  Good,"  escaped  his  livid  lips. 

Thinking  longer  deception  unnecessary, 
I  opened  wide  my  eyes  and  said: 

"  Who  are  youl" 

"  Cha-cha-chee-kee-hobah"  was  the  an- 
swer. 

Then  straightening  himself  as  much  as 
age  would  permit,  he  placed  his  pipe  again 
in  his  mouth,  and  turning  his  face  toward 
the  door  of  the  hut,  struck  the  palms  of 
his  hands  three  times  together,  and  uttered 
in  a  cracked  voice  the  single  word: 

"Leni!" 

Wondering  what  all  this  meant,  I  turn- 
ed my  eyes  in  the  same  direction,  and  the 
next  moment,  to  my  astonishment,  beheld 
the  beautiful  form  of  the  mysterious  Prai- 
rie Flower  enter  from  without. 


70 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


With  a  light,  quick  tread,  her  face  flush- 
ed with  animation  and  joy,  she  glided  up 
to  the  decrepid  old  Indian,  and  in  a  sil- 
very voice,  such  as  one  might  expect  from 
so  lovely  a  creature,  said  a  few  words  and 
received  a  reply  in  a  languaj^e  to  me  whol- 
ly unintelligible.  Then  springing  to  me, 
she  kneeled  at  my  side,  and  turning  her 
«yes  upward,  her  sweet  lips  seemed  mov- 
ing to  aa  earnest  prayer  from  a  guileless 
heart. 

I  no  longer  had  fears  for  my  safety — 
for  in  such  a  presence  and  with  such 
an  act  of  devotion,  I  knew  myself  safe. 
I  was  only  afraid  to  speak  or  move,  lest 
I  should  wake  to  find  it  all  a  delusive 
dream. 

But  my  desire  to  be  assured  of  its  re- 
ality would  not  long  let  me  remain  silent, 
and  at  last  I  said: 

"  Sweet  being,  tell  me  the  meaning  of 
all  I  see." 

"  Friend,  you  must  not  talk,"  she  replied 
in  good  English;  "  it  will  do  you  harm." 

"  Nevertheless,  fair  creature,  you  must 
answer  my  question.  My  curiosity  is 
wonderfully  excited,  and  silence  will  harm 
me  more  than  conversation." 

She  turned  and  addressed  a  few  words 
to  the  old  man,  who  now  approached  her 
side  and  gazed  down  upon  me  with  a  mild 
look.  His  reply  was  apparently  satisfac- 
tory; for  looking  full  upon  me  again,  she 
said: 

"  You  may  be  right,  and  I  will  answer. 
You  were  badly  wounded  in  the  fight." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that." 

"You  were  left  upon  the  ground  for 
dead." 

"  Ha!  indeed!  But  the  battle — who 
won]" 

"  Your  friends  were  victorious." 

"  Surprising!  What  lucky  chance  of 
fortune  gave  them  the  victory?' 

"A  reinforcement." 

"  Indeed!  from  wherel" 

'•  Fort  John." 

This  fort,  now  demolished,  stood  at  the 
time  of  which  I  write  about  a  mile  below 
Fort  Laramie,  and  was  well  garrisoned. 
From  a  mistaken  confidence  in  our  own 
abilities  to  win  the  day,  we  had  neglected 
calling  there  for  volunteers  to  augment 


our  numbers  and  render  our  success  more 
certain. 

"  And  what  brought  them  to  our  aid  so 
opportunely.'"  I  inquired. 

"  Certain  timely  information." 

"  By  whom  conveyed?" 

"  A  friend  to  your  race." 

"  By  the  same  messenger  that  brought 
intelligence  of  the  enemy  to  Fort  Lar- 
amie]" 

"  It  matters  not  by  whom.  Let  the  re- 
sult suffice." 

"  How  shall  I  thank  you,  sweet  Prairie 
Flower]" 

"For  what]" 

"For  all  that  you  have  done." 

"I  need  no  thanks." 

"  O  say  not  thus." 

"  Then  thank  me  by  your  silence." 

"I  will;  and  by  my  prayers  for  your 
safety  and  happiness." 

"Bless  you!"  she  exclaimed,  fervently. 
"  The  only  boon  I  would  have  asked,  save 
one." 

"  And  what  is  that]" 

"  That  you  will  not  seek  to  know  more 
of  me  and  my  history  than  I  may  choose 
to  tell;  and  that  whatever  you  may  see  and 
hear  that  seems  mysterious,  you  will  reveal 
to  none  without  my  permission." 

"  To  please  sweet  Prairie  Flower,"  I 
answered,  "  I  will  strive  not  to  be  a  meddler 
nor  a  babbler;  though  she  must  bear  in 
mind,  where  so  much  interest  is  excited, 
the  task  she  has  imposed  is  a  hard  one." 

"  Then  by  adhering  to  it,  you  will  con- 
fer upon  her  the  deeper  obligation." 

"  Yet  I  cannot  forbear  one  question." 

«  Well]" 

"  Is  Prairie  Flower  not  of  my  race]" 

"  The  judgment  of  the  queriest  must 
answer  him." 

"Will  not  you]" 

"  Not  now — perhaps  never." 

"  I  regret  your  decision,  yet  will  not 
press  the  point.  But  to  return  to  the  bat- 
tle." 

"  What  would  you  know]" 

"  How  it  was  won — how  I  came  to  be 
neglected — and  why  I  am  here." 

"A  reinforcement  charging  suddenly 
upon  the  enemy,  alarmed  and  put  him  to 
flight,     The  victors  pressed  upon  his  rear, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


71 


and  left  their  killed  and  wounded  upon  the 
gory  field.  Before  they  returned,  a  few 
who  beheld,  but  did  not  join  the  fight, 
found  you  and  another  in  whom  life  was 
not  yet  extinct,  and  bore  you  both  away." 

"And — and — that  other!"  I  gasped. — 
"  Was — was  it — my  friend]" 

"  None  other." 

"  And  he — he — is — alive]" 

"  Ay,  and  doing  well." 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!  A  weight 
of  grief  is  lifted  from  my  heart.  But 
where — O,  tell  me  quickly — where  is  he 
now]" 

"  Not  far  hence." 

"  And  all  is  owing  to  you]" 

"  Nay,  I  said  not  that." 

"  God  bless  you  for  an  angel  of  mercy! 
I  must  thank  you — my  heart  is  bursting 
with  gratitude!" 

"Nay,  spare  your  thanks  to  mortal! — 
Thank  God — not  me — for  I  am  only  an 
humble  instrument  in  his  hands." 

"  Mysterious  being,  who  art  thou]" 

"  Remember  your  promise  and  question 
not." 

"  But  you  seem  more  of  Heaven  than 
earth." 

"  It  is  only  seeming  then.  But  I  must 
remind  you  that  you  have  now  talked  full 
long." 

"  Nay,  but  tell  me  where  I  am]" 

"  In  the  lodge  of  Cha-cha-chee-kee-ho- 
bah,  or  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains." 

'•'  Is  it  he  that  stands  beside  you]" 

"  The  same.  He  is  '  Great  Medicine,' 
and  has  cured  you." 

"  And  how  long  have  I  been  here]" 

"  Four  days." 

"  Good  heavens!  you  astonish  me!  Sure- 
ly not  four  days]" 

"  Prairie  Flower  would  not  tell  you 
wrong,"  said  my  informant,  with  a  re- 
proachful look. 

"  I  know  it,  sweet  being.  I  will  not 
doubt  you — and  only  intended  to  express 
surprise.  Then  I  have  been  four  days  un- 
conscious." 

"  Ay,  a  week." 

"  A  week]"  I  exclaimed,  looking  her 
earnestly  in  the  face :  "  A  week,  say 
you]  And  was  the  battle  fought  a  week 
ago]" 


"  It  was — a  week  ago  last  night." 

"  And  pray  in  what  part  of  the  country 
am  I  now?" 

"  On  the  Black  Hills." 

"  Indeed!  And  how  far  from  Fort  Lar- 
amie]" 

"  Not  less  than  sixty  miles." 

"And  how  was  I  borne  here]" 

"  On  a  litter." 

"  By  whom]" 

"  My  friends." 

"White  men  or  red!" 

"  The  latter." 

"  And  for  what  purpose]" 

"  To  restore  you  to  health," 

"  And  what  object  could  you  or  they 
have  in  bestowing  such  kindness  on  stran- 
gers]" 

"  To  do  good." 

"  For  which  of  course  you  expect  a  re- 
compense]" 

Prairie  Flower  looked  at  me  earnestly 
a  moment,  with  a  sweet,  sad,  reproachful 
look,  and  then  said  with  a  sigh: 

"  Like  the  rest  of  the  world,  you  mis- 
construe our  motives." 

"  Forgive  me!"  I  exclaimed,  almost  pas- 
sionately— for  her  appearance  and  words 
touched  my  very  soul :  "  Forgive  me, 
sweet  being!  I  was  wrong,  I  see.  On 
your  part  it  was  solely  charity  that  prompt- 
ed this  noble  act.  But  it  is  so  rare  that 
even  a  good  action  is  done  in  this  world 
withoutaselfishmotive,that,in  the  thought- 
lessness of  the  moment,  I  even  imputed 
the  latter  to  you." 

"  That  is  why  I  suppose  so  few  under- 
stand us]"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  You  must  be  a  very  singular  people," 
I  rejoined,  looking  her  full  in  the  eye. — 
"  Will  you  not  tell  me  the  name  of  your 
tribe]" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  told  you  before,"  she  answered,  "  you 
must  not  question  me  touching  my  history 
or  tribe.  Let  it  suffice  that  we  are  known 
as  the  Mysterious  or  Great  Medicine  Na- 
tion; that  to  us  all  roads  are  free,  and 
with  us  all  nations  are  at  peace.  We 
war  upon  none  and  none  upon  us." 

"  And  yet  do  you  not  excite  others  to 
deeds  you  seem  to  abhor]" 

"What  mean  you]"  she  asked  quickly, 


THE  PRAIRlE  FLOWER; 


a  flusli  of  surprise  giving  a  beautiful  glow 
to  her  noble  features. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  speak  too  plainly. — 
But  was  not  your  message  to  Fort  Lara- 
mie the  cause  of  a  bloody  battle  between 
the  whites  and  Indians  at  Bitter  Cotton- 
wood!" 

"  The  immediate  cause  of  warrior  meet- 
ing warrior  in  the  game  of  death,  most 
undoubtedly,"  she  answered,  with  a  proud 
look  and  sparkling  eyes.  "  But  do  you 
not  overlook  the  fact,  that  it  was  done  to 
save  the  innocent  and  defenceless?  Were 
not  the  Indians  gathered  there  in  mighty 
force  to  prey  upon  the  weak]  and  was  it 
not  the  duty  of  those  who  sought  to  do 
right  to  warn  the  fev/  against  the  many — 
the  unwary  of  their  hidden  foe"?  Could 
Prairie  Flower  stand  idly  by  and  see  de- 
fenceless women  and  children  drawn  into 
a  fatal  snare  and  made  a  bloody  sacrifice 
to  a  heartless  enemyl  Had  the  pale-face 
so  laid  in  wait  for  the  red-man,  Prairie 
Flower,  if  in  her  power,  had  so  warned 
the  latter.  Prairie  Flower  did  not  call 
the  red-man  there;  she  regretted  to  see 
him  there;  but  being  there,  she  could  do 
no  less  than  warn  and  put  the  pale-face 
on  his  guard." 

This  was  said  with  such  a  proud  look 
of  conscious  rectitude — an  expression  so 
sublime,  and  an  eloquence  so  pathetic — 
that  I  could  hardly  realize  I  was  gazing 
upon  and  listening  to  an  earthly  habi- 
tant. I  felt  ashamed  of  my  ungallant  and 
unjust  insinuation,  and  hastened  to  reply: 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  for 
having  again  wronged  you — of  having 
again  done  you  injustice!  But  as  before, 
I  overlooked  the  motive  in  the  act.  I  will 
strive  not  to  offend  again  and  wound  your 
sensitive  feelings  by  doubting  your  gener- 
ous intentions.  Are  there  many  more  like 
you,  sweet  Prairie  Flower  J" 

"  Our  tribe  numbers  bet^ween  sixty  and 
seventy  souls." 

"  Is  this  your  fixed  abiding  place?" 

"  Only  for  a  time.  Our  home  is  every 
where  between  the  rising  and  the  setting 
Bun.  Wc  go  wherever  we  think  ourselves 
the  most  beneficial  in  effecting  good." 

"Perhaps  you  are  Christian  mission- 
aries?" 


"  We  believe  in  the  holy  religion  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  and  endeavor  to  inculcate  its 
doctrines." 

"  Why  then  did  this  old  man  use  mys- 
terious signs!" 

"  He  is  of  another  race  find  generation, 
was  once  a  Great  Medicine  in  his  tribe, 
and  cannot  divest  himself  of  old  habits." 

"  You  seem  rightly  named  the  Myste- 
rious Tribe;  and  of  you  in  particular  I 
have  heard  before." 

"Indeed!     When  and  how?" 

I  proceeded  to  detail  briefly  the  story  of 
the  old  trapper. 

She  mused  a  moment  and  replied: 

"  I  remember  such  a  person  now,  me- 
thinks.  He  was  found,  as  you  say,  with 
life  nearly  extinct.  By  careful  nursing 
he  was  restored  to  health.  But  he  seem- 
ed inquisitive,  and  I  employed  the  ruse  of 
telling  him  his  life  was  in  danger  to  hurry 
his  departure,  lest  he  might  prove  trouble- 
some. I  trust  there  was  nothing  wrong 
in  that.  But  coniO,  come,  I  have  forgot- 
ten my  own  caution,  and  talked  too  long 
by  far.     You  need  repose  and  silence." 

"But  one  thing  more!     My  friend?" 

"  You  shall  see  him  soon — perhaps  to- 
morrow." 

"  O,  no!  say  to-day!" 

"  I  cannot.  To-morrow  is  the  earliest. 
And  so  adieu!  Seek  repose" and  forgetful- 
ness  in  sleep." 

With  this  she  turned,  and  glided  out  of 
the  apartment  in  the  same  noiseless  man- 
ner she  had  entered  it.  The  old  man  look- 
ed at  me  a  moment — shook  his  head  and 
trembling  hands — turned — shuffled  away 
to  his  fire — and  I  was  left  alone  to  reflect 
on  what  I  had  seen  and  heard  and  my  pre- 
sent condition. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SICK-BED  REFLECTIONS — GREAT   MEDICINE — 
REAPPEARANCE    OP    PRAIRIE     FLOWER — 

OUR    CONVERSATION GRATITUDE MY 

WOUNDS — HER  SUDDEN    EMBARRASSIHENT 
— DEPARTURE,  ETC. 

It  is  a  painful  thing  to  one  who  has 
never  known  sickness,  to  be  confined  day 


OR,  ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


73 


after  day  to  his  bed,  racked  with  torture, 
debarred  even  the  liberty  of  enjoying  for 
a  moment  the  bright  sunshine  and  clear 
air  of  heaven,  unable  perhaps  to  lift  his 
head  from  his  pillow,  and  yet  beholding 
others,  flushed  with  health  and  happiness, 
coming  and  going  as  they  please,  and 
seeming  to  prize  lightly  all  which  he  most 
covets.  It  is  only  on  a  bed  of  sickness 
and  pain,  that  we  are  taught  to  value  as 
we  should  that  greatest  of  all  blessings, 
good  health — a  blessing  without  which  all 
others  are  robbed  of  their  pleasures:  for 
what  are  fortune  and  friends  and  all  their 
concomitants,  to  one  who  is  borne  down 
by  a  weight  of  bodily  suffering?  True, 
these  may  in  a  measure  minister  to  his 
comforts — for  without  money  and  friends, 
the  sick  bed  is  only  a  pallet  of  the  most 
abject  misery — yet  all  the  joys  arising 
therefrom  in  connection  with  health,  are 
lost  to  the  invalid;  and  he  lays,  and  sighs, 
and  groans,  and  envies  the  veriest  stroll- 
ing mendicant  on  earth  the  enjoyment  of 
his  strength  and  liberty. 

Such  were  my  thoughts,  as  hour  after 
hour,  from  the  disappearance  of  Prairie 
Flower,  I  lay  and  mused  upon  all  the  events 
of  my  chequered  life,  up  to  the  present 
time.  Born  to  wealth, blessed  with  health, 
kind  friends  and  a  college  education,  I 
might  have  passed  my  whole  life  in  luxu- 
rious ease,  but  for  the  restless  desire  of 
travel  and  adventure.  Not  a  discomfort 
had  I  ever  knovvn  ere  my  departure  from 
the  paternal  roof;  and  when  I  remembered, 
that  now  I  was  thousands  of  miles  away, 
in  an  Indian  camp  of  the  wilderness, 
wounded  nigh  unto  death,  unable  to  rise 
from  my  pallet,  solely  dependent  upon 
strangers  of  a  savage  race  for  my  exist- 
ence and  the  few  favors  I  received,  perhaps 
rendered  a  cripple  or  an  invalid  for  life, 
and  reflected  on  how  much  I  had  sacrificed 
for  this — my  feelings  may  be  better  im- 
agined than  described. 

To  what  extent  I  was  wounded  I  knew 
not — for  I  had  neglected  to  question  Prai- 
rie Flower  on  the  subject — and  I  was  now 
too  weak  to  make  the  examination  myself. 
My  head,  one  of  my  arms,  and  both  of  my 


caused  by  excessive  hemorrhage.  From 
the  manner  of  Prairie  Flower  and  the  old 
Indian,  I  was  led  to  infer  that  the  crisis  of 
danger  had  passed;  but  how  long  it  would 
take  me  to  recover,  I  had  no  means  of  as- 
certaining, nor  whether  I  should  be  again 
blessed  with  the  use  of  my  limbs.  Per- 
haps I  might  here  be  confined  for  months, 
and  then  only  regain  my  wonted  strength 
to  find  myself  a  cripple  for  life. 

These  thoughts  pained  and  alarmed  me, 
and  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  return  of 
Prairie  Flower,  to  gain  the  desired  infor- 
mation. But  she  came  not;  and  through 
sheer  exhaustion,  I  was  at  last  forced  to 
drop  the  subject,  while  I  strove  to  resign 
myself  to  such  fate  as  He,  who  had  pre- 
served my  existence  as  it  were  by  a  mira- 
cle, should,  in  his  wise  dispensation,  se« 
proper  to  decree. 

Then  my  thoughts  turned  upon  Prairie 
Flower.      What  mystery  was  shrouding 
this  singular  and  angelic  being,  that  she 
feared  to  be  questioned  regarding  her  his- 
tory and  tribe?     Was  she  of  the  Indian 
race]     I  could  not  believe  it.     She  seem- 
ed too  fair  and  lovely,  and  without  the 
lineaments  which  distinguish  this  people 
from  those  nations  entitled  to  the  name  of 
pale-face.     Might  she  not  be  a  missionary, 
who — blessed  with  great  self-denial  and  a 
desire  to  render  herself  useful  while  on 
earth,  and  yet  too  modest  to  avow  it — had, 
at  a  tender  age,  gone  boldly  among  the 
savages  and  labored  zealously  in  her  noble 
calling,  to  enlighten  their  dark  minds  and 
teach  them  the  sacred  truths  of  Christiani- 
ty]    She  had  admitted  that  all  believed  in 
the  doctrines  preached  by  the  Savior;  and 
though  she  had  not  openly  acknowledged, 
she  certainly  had  not  denied,  ray  imputa- 
tion regarding  the  calling  of  herself  and 
friends.     This,  then,  was  the  best  solution 
of  the  mystery  I  could  invent.     But  even 
admitting  this  to  be  true — that  she  was  in 
reality  of  the  Anglo-American  race,  and  a 
pious  instructor  who  found  her  enjoyments 
in  what  to  others  would  have  been  a  source 
of  misery — still  it  was  a  matter  of  curious 
research,  how  one  of  her  age  should  have 
become  so  familiar  with  the  language  and 


lower  limbs  were  bandaged  in  a  rucie  way,  |  habits  of  all  the  various  tribes  of  the  Fai* 
and   my   weakness    had    doubtless    been  i  West — and  why,  if  she  had  friends,  she  had 

6 


74 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


been  permitted  to  venture  among  tlicm 
alone  and  at  the  risk  of  her  life.  View 
the  matter  as  1  would,  I  found  it  ever 
shrouded  with  a  veil  of  mystery  and  ro- 
mance, beyond  which  all  my  speculations 
were  unable  to  penetrate. 

Thus  I  lay  and  pondered  for  several 
hours,  during  which  time  I  saw  not  a  liv- 
ing soul — the  old  Indian  excepted — who, 
having  finished  his  pipe,  sat  doubled  up  on 
the  ground  by  his  smouldering  fire,  as  mo- 
tionless and  apparently  as  inanimate  as  so 
much  lead.  Once,  and  only  once,  be  raised 
his  head,  peered  curiously  around  him  for 
a  moment,  and  then  settled  down  into  his 
previous  position.  Fixing  my  gaze  upon 
him,  and  wondering  what  secrets  of  the 
past  and  his  own  eventful  life  might  per- 
chance be  locked  in  his  aged  breast,  I  at 
last  felt  my  eyes  grow  heavy — the  old  man 
grew  less  and  less  distinct,  and  seemed  to 
nod  and  swim  before  my  vision,  sometimes 
single  and  sometimes  double — and  then 
all  became  confused,  and  I  v.ent  off  into 
a  gentle  sleep. 

How  long  I  slept  I  am  unable  to  say; 
but  an  acute  sense  of  pain  awoke  me; 
when,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  it  already 
dark,  and  the  old  man  bending  over  me, 
engaged  in  dressing  my  wounds,  and  ap- 
plying a  kind  of  whitish  liniment  of  a 
soothing  and  healing  nature,  prepared  by 
himself  and  kept  on  hand  for  such  and 
similar  purposes. 

Some  half  an  hour  was  he  occupied  in 
this  proceeding,  during  v;hich  I  suffered 
more  or  less  pain  from  the  removal  of  the 
bandages,  which  having  become  dry  and 
stiff,  adhered  rather  too  closely  to  the  af- 
fected parts. 

Thinking  it  useless  to  question  him,  I 
made  no  remark,  but  passively  suffered 
him  to  do  as  he  pleased — which  he  did, 
without  appearing  to  notice  me  any  more 
than  if  I  were  dead,  and  he  performing  the 
last  office  of  sepulture. 

At  length,  the  bandages  being  repla- 
ced, and  my  condition  rendered  as  com- 
fortable as  circumstances  would  permit, 
he  tendered  me  some  light  food  and  water 
—both  of  which  I  partook  sparingly — and 
with  the  single  word  "  Onh-chi,"  and  a 
)i^d   of  hi?  head,  turned  away    and  left 


me  to  my  meditations.     In  ten  minutes  I 
was  again  asleep. 

When  I  next  awoke,  the  sun  was  stream- 
ing through  the  open  doorway  and  crevices 
of  the  old  cabin,  and,  to  my  surprise,  I 
found  Prairie  Flower  again  kneeling  by 
my  side.  Her  eyes  were  turned  upward 
as  before,  and  her  lips  moved,  but  not  a 
sound  issued  from  them.  She  was  evi- 
dently making  a  silent  appeal  to  Heaven 
in  my  behalf;  and  as  I  lay  and  gazed  upon 
her  sweet,  placid  countenance,  and  felt 
that  all  this  was  for  me,  methought  I  had 
never  beheld  a  being  so  lovely;  and  she 
seemed  rather  an  immortal  seraph,  bent  at 
the  Throne  of  Grace,  than  a  mortal  tenant 
of  this  mundane  sphere. 

At  length  she  arose,  and  with  a  charm- 
ing smile  upon  her  features,  and  in  the 
sweetest  tone  imaginable,  said: 

"  And  how  fare  you  this  morning,  my 
friend?" 

"  I  feel  much  refreshed,"  I  answered, 
"  by  a  night  of  calm  repose — and  ray 
strength  is  evidently  improving." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it — for  you  have 
been  nigh  unto  death." 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,  and  know  not  how 
to  express  to  you  my  deep  obligations  for 
my  recovery." 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  no  thanks  are 
due  me.  I  did  but  my  duty,  and  my  own 
conscience  has  already  rewarded  me  ten- 
fold. Those  who  labor  to  effect  all  the 
good  they  can,  need  no  thanks  expressed 
in  words — for  words  are  superfluous." 

"  And  yet  had  I  done  for  you  what  you 
have  done  for  me,  would  you  not  have 
thanked  me]" 

"  Doubtless  I  should." 

"  And  will  you  not  allow  me  the  privi- 
lege you  would  have  claimed  yourself? — 
Would  it  have  pleased  you  to  find  me  un- 
grateful?" 

"  I  cannot  say  it  would,"  she  replied, 
musingly;  "  for,  like  others,  I  am  only 
mortal;  and  perhaps  vain — too  vain — of 
having  what  little  I  do  appreciated.  I 
should  not  have  such  feelings,  I  am  well 
aware;  but  they  are  engrafted  in  my  na- 
ture, and  I  cannot  help  it." 

"  Tiien  even  oral  thanks  cannot  be  dis-  , 
pleasing  to  sweet  Prairie  Flower?" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


76 


"Understand  me,  friend!  There  is  a 
vast  difference  between  expressing  thanks 
by  word  of  mouth,  and  being  ungrateful. 
That  you  are  not  ungrateful,  your  look  ami 
actions  tell — therefore  are  words  super- 
fluous." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  say  no  more — but 
trust  that  time  will  give  me  an  opportuni- 
ty of  proving  by  acts,  what  at  best  could 
be  but  feebly  spoken.  I  agree  with  you, 
that  words  in  a  case  like  mine  are  of  Jittle 
importance.  They  are  in  fact  '  trifles 
light  as  air,'  and  as  often  proceed  from  the 
lips  merely,  as  from  the  heart.  But  now 
a  word  of  myself.  Tell  me,  fair  being, 
and  do  not  fear  to  speak  plainly,  regarding 
my  present  condition.  Can  I  ever  re- 
cover?" 

"  Great  Medicine  has  pronounced  you 
out  of  danger." 

"  Shall  I  ever  regain  the  full  use  of  all 
my  limbs?" 
"I  know  nothing  to  the  contrary." 
"  And  my  wounds — what  are  they?" 
"  You  were  found  with  your  head  fright- 
fully gashed,  and  your  skull  slightly  frac- 
tured.    Your  left  arm  was  broken,  and  the 
flesh  around  it  badly  bruised,  apparently 
by  the  tread  of  a  horse.     Various  other 
flesh  wounds  were  found  upon  your  per- 
son— made,  seemingly,  by  some  sharp  in- 
strument— from  which  you  bled  profusely. 
These,  together  with  loss  of  blood,  pro- 
duced a  delirious  fever,  from  which  kind 
Providence  has  restored  you,  as  it  were  by 
a  miracle.      For  a  week,  life  and  death 
contended   equally  as   it  seemed  for  the 
victory.     Many  a  time  have  I  stood  by 
your  side,  and  thought  every  breath  you 
drew  your  last.     I  can  only  compare  your 
critical  condition  to  a  person  suspended 
by  a  mere  cord  over  a  terrible  abyss,  with 
a  strain  upon  it  so  equal  to  its  strength, 
that  another   pound  would  divide  it    and 
render  death  certain;  and  there  hanging 
Beven  days  and  nights,  ere  a  safe  footing 
could  be  effected  on  the  solid  earth  above." 
"  You  draw   a  fearful  picture,  Prairie 
Flower.     But  my  friend — did  he  know  of 
this?" 

"  Not  fully.  He  knew  you  were  badly 
wounded — but  we  gave  him  all  the  hope 
we  could,  lest  with  his  own  wounds  the 


excitement  should  prove  fatal  to  him  also 
As  it  was,  he  was  often  delirious,  and 
raved  of  you,  and  accused  himself  of  drag- 
ging you  hither  and  beiRg  the  cause  of 
your  misery,  perhaps  death.  Had  we  in- 
formed him  you  were  dead,  I  do  nut  think 
he  would  have  survived  an  hour." 

"  God  bless  him  for  a  noble  fellow — a 
true  friend!"  I  cried,  while  tears  of  affec- 
tion flooded  my  eyes. 

As  I  spoke,  I  noticed  the  counienanc« 
of  Prairie  Flower  become  suddenly  crim- 
son, and  then  white  as  marble,  while  sha 
averted  her  head  and  seemed  uncommonly 
affected.  What  all  this  meant,  I  was  at  a 
loss  to  conjecture.  In  fact  I  did  not  give 
it  much  thought,  for  my  mind  was  filled 
with  the  image  of  Charles  Huntly,  and  I 
quickly  added: 

'■  Is  he  not  a  noble  friend,  sweet  Prairie 
Flower?" 

"  He  is  indeed!"  she  exclaimed,  looking 

at  me  earnestly  a  moment,  as  if  to  detect 

a  hidden  meaning  in  my  words,  and  then 

dropping  her  eyes  modestly  to  the  ground. 

"  But  his  wounds?" 

"  Like  yourself,  he  received  two  very 
severe  contusions  on  the  head,  which  ren- 
dered him  senseless  for  several  hours." 
"  And  how  is  he  now?" 
"  He  has  so  far  recovered  that  he  leaves 
his  lodge,  and  occasionally  takes  a  short 
stroll." 
"  And  has  he  not  been  to  see  me?" 
"  No!  we  would  not  permit  him." 
"  And  how  did  a  refusal  effect  him?" 
"  Quite  seriously.     But  we  told  him  that 
your  life,  in  a  great  measure,  depended  on 
your  being  kept  perfectly  quiet,  and  that 
as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  with  safety,  he 
should  be  admitted  to  your  presence.     He 
seemed  to  grieve  very  much,  but  uttered  no 
complaints." 

"  But  you   must  let  me  see  him  now, 
Prairie  Flower!" 

"  I   do   not  know,"  she  answered:   "  I . 
will  consult  Great  Medicine." 

"  But,  Prairie  Flower!"  I  called,  as  sh* 
turned  away. 
«  Well?" 

"  Remember,  I  must  see  him!" 
"But  surely  you  would  not  endanger 
your  life  and  hisV.' 


76 


THE  PRAIRTE  FLOWER; 


"  Certainly  not.  But  do  you  think  such 
would  be  the  eflect  of  our  meeting!" 

"  I  am  unable  to  say,  and  that  is  why  I 
wish  to  consult  Cha-cha-chee-kee-hobah 
— or,  as  we  often  term  him,  Great  Medi- 
cine." 

"  Go,  then,  and  Heaven  send  I  get  a  fa- 
vorable answer." 

Prairie  Flower  turned  away,  and  ap- 
proaching the  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains, 
lield  with  him  a  short  consultation.  Then 
returning  to  mc,  she  said: 

"  Great  Medicine  thinks  it  imprudent; 
but  if  you  insist  on  it,  he  says  you  may 
meet;  at  the  same  time  he  bids  me  warn 
you  both  to  be  cautious  and  not  become 
too  much  excited,  or  the  worst  of  conse- 
quences may  follow." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  be  calm,  and  see  no 
cause  why  I  should  be  more  than  ordinari- 
ly excited." 

"  You  perhaps  overlook,  my  friend,  that 
a  great  change  has  taken  place  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  each  of  you  since  last  you 
met;  and  your  system  being  in  a  feeble 
state,  a  sight  of  your  friend  may  affect  you 
more  than  you  are  now  aware  of.  The 
greatest  change,  however,  is  in  yourself; 
and  I  must  prepare  your  friend  to  behold 
in  you  a  far  dilTerent  person  than  he  be- 
held on  the  night  of  the  battle.  I  charge 
you  beforehand,  to  brace  your  nerves  and 
meet  him  calmly!" 

Saying  thia,  she  turned  and  quitted  the 
hovel. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

VISIT    OF    MY    FRIEND HIS     CHANGED    AF- 

FEAKANCE SINGULAR  MANNER  OF  PRAI- 
RIE FLOWER — HER  ABRtrPT  DEPARTURE — 
HER  KF^EMBLANCE  TO  ANOTHER — OUR 
SURMISES  REGARDING  HER — MT  FRIEND 
IN  LOVE, ETC. 

Half  an  hour  of  the  most  anxious  sus- 
pense followed  the  disappearance  of  Prai- 
Flower,  during  which,  in  spite  of  myself, 
T  suflfered  the  most  intense  mental  excite- 
ment, and  my  hands  shook  like  the  quak- 


ing aspen,  and  I  felt  both  sick  and  faint. 
At  the  end  of  the  time  mentioned,  Prairie 
Flower  appeared  and  announced  that  my 
friend  would  shortly  be  with  me. 

"  But  you  seem  agitated,"  she  added, 
with  an  expression  of  alarm. 

•'  O,  no — mere  nothing,  I  assure  you,"  I 
quickly  replied,  fearful  she  would  alter  her 
arrangement  and  put  off  our  meeting  to 
another  day.  "  My  hand  shakes  a  little 
perhaps — but  you  see,  Prairie  Flower,  I 
am  quite  composed — quite  collected,  in- 
deed." 

She  shook  her  head  doubtingly,  and 
was  about  to  reply,  when  Huntly  made  his 
appearance,  and  approached  me  with  a 
feeble  step. 

Heavens!  what  a  change  in  sooth!  A 
wild  exclamation  of  alarm  and  surprise 
was  already  trembling  on  my  lips,  when, 
remembering  the  injunction  of  Prairie 
Flower,  I,  by  a  great  effort,  suppressed  it. 
Could  this  feeble,  tottering  form  ap- 
proaching me,  indeed  be  the  gay,  dashing, 
enthusiastic  Charles  Huntly,  whom  I  had 
known  from  boyhood]  His  face  was  pale 
and  thin — his  lips  bloodless — his  eyes  had 
lost  much  of  thsir  luster,  and  moved  some- 
what nervously  in  their  sunken  sockets — 
his  cheek  bones  protruded,  and  his  robust 
figure  was  wonderfully  emaciated — while 
the  wonted  expression  of  fire  and  soul  in 
his  intelligent  countenance,  had  given 
place  to  sedateness  and  melanchoUy.  To 
complete,  his  head  was  rudely  bandaged, 
and  his  habilliments  exhibited  marks  of 
the  recent  conflict.  If  such  was  his  ap- 
pearance, what,  judging  from  the  remarks 
of  Prairie  Flower,  must  have  been  mine! 
I  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

As  he  came  up,  so  thathis  eye  could  rest 
upon  me,  he  suddenly  started  back,  with  a 
look  of  horror,  threw  up  both  hands  and 
exclaimed: 

"  Merciful  God!  can  this  be  Francis 
Leighton!"  and  staggering  to  my  side,  he 
dropped  down  upon  the  ground  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Beware!  beware!"  cried  Prairie  Flow- 
er earnestly,  her  features  turning  deadly 
pale.  "  Remember,  Charles  Huntly— re- 
member my  warning!  or  you  will  do  what 
can  never  be  undone,  and  all  our  efforts 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


77 


10  save  you  both  will  have  been  made  in 
vain." 

"  Charles,"  gasped  I:  "Charles — Huntly 
— my  friend — composeyourself,or  you  will 
destroy  us  both!" 

"Oh,  Frank,  Frank!"  he  rejoined  some- 
what wildly,  "  I  never  thought  to  see  you 
thus,  when  in  an  evil  moment  I  urged  you 
to  leave  home.  Oh!  why  did  I  do  it!  For- 
give me,  my  friend — forgive  me,  for  God's 
sake!  or  I  shall  go  distracted." 

'•  For  Heaven's  sake,  my  friend,  do  not 
blame  yourself!  I  left  home  by  my  own 
desire  and  free  will.  You  are  not  to  blame, 
any  more  than  I.  Of  course,  we  could  not 
foretell  what  fate  had  in  store  for  us. 
Rather  thank  God,  dear  Charles,  that  we 
are  both  alive  and  likely  to  recover!" 

"  And  you  think,  dear  Frank,  I  am  not 
to  blame]" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

'vGod  bless  you  for  a  generous  soul! 
Oh !  if  you  could  but  know  what  I  have 
suffered!  Tortures  of  mind  beyond  the 
strength  of  reason  to  bear." 

'•  I  have  heard  so  from  the  lips  of  our 
sweet  benefactor." 

"  Ay,  sweet  benefactor,  indeed  !  God 
bless  you,  lovely  Prairie  Flower  !"  he  ad- 
ded, passionately,  suddenly  turning  his 
eyes  upon  her.  "  If  you  are  not  rewarded 
in  this  world,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  in  the 
next." 

At  the  first  sentence,  the  face  of  the 
maiden  flushed,  and  then  changed  quickly 
to  an  ashpn  hue,  while  her  breast  heaved 
with  some  powerful  emotion,  like  to  the  bil- 
lowy sea.  She  strove  to  reply,  but  words 
failed  her,  and  turning  suddenly  away,  she 
rushed  from  the  lodge,  leaving  us  alone. 

"Angelic  creature!"  pursued  Huntly, 
gazing  after  her  retreating  form  with  an 
expression  of  sincere  admiration.  "A  lily 
too  fair  to  bloom  in  a  region  so  desolate  as 
this.  But  why  did  she  leave  us  so  abrupt- 
ly, Frank]" 

"  I  cannot  say,  unless  it  was  her  dislike 
of  praise." 

"  I  could  adore  her,  Frank,  for  her  good- 
ness. Where  would  we  be  now,  think 
you,  but  for  her  timely  aid]" 

"  In  another  world,  most  probably,"  I 
answered  solemnly. 


"  Ay,  truly  in  another  world,"  rejoined 
Huntly,  with  a  sigh.  "And  you,  Frank,  if 
one  may  judge  by  your  looks,  are  not  far 
from  there  now.  Great  God!"  he  contin- 
ued, gazing  steadily  on  me,  while  his  eyes 
became  filled  with  tears,  "  what  a  change 
— what  a  change!  I  cannot  realize,  even 
now,  that  I  am  speaking  to  Francis  Leigh- 
ton.  And  this  the  work  of  one  short 
week !  Oh !  how  have  I  longed  to  see  you, 
Frank!  How  on  my  knees  have  I  cried,, 
begged  and  implored  to  be  permitted  to  see 
you!  But  I  was  denied — unresistingly  de- 
nied— and  now  I  am  thankful  for  it;  for 
had  I  seen  you  in  that  unconscious  state 
described  to  me  by  Prairie  Flower,  I  fear  I 
should  have  lost  my  reason  forever,  and 
the  sods  of  the  valley  would  soon  have 
been  green  above  my  mortal  remains." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  and  tone  so 
mournfully,  touchingly  sad,  that  in  spite  of 
myself  I  found  my  eyes  swimming  in 
tears. 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "let  us  forget  the 
past,  and  look  forward  with  hope  to  the  fu- 
ture, and  return  to  Him — who  has  thus  far 
watched  over  us  with  His  all-seeing  eye; 
and  raised  us  up  friends  where  we  least 
expected  them,  in  our  moments  of  afflic- 
tion— the  spontaneous  thanks  of  grateful 
hearts!" 

In  this  and  like  manner,  we  conversed 
some  half  an  hour  without  interruption. 
As  my  friend  had  been  struck  down  at  the 
same  moment  with  myself,  he  was  of 
course  unable  to  give  me  any  information 
regarding  what  happened  afterwards. 
Whether  any  of  our  friends  were  killed  or 
not,  we  had  no  means  of  ascertaining,  and 
could  only  speculate  upon  the  probability 
of  this  thing  or  that.  What  had  become 
of  Teddy]  Had  he  survived] — and  if  so, 
what  must  have  been  his  feelings,  when 
he  found  we  came  not  to  his  call,  and  ap- 
peared not  to  his  search! 

This  train  of  conversation  again  brought 
us  back  to  Prairie  Flower,  and  each  had 
to  rehearse  the  little  he  had  gleaned,  and 
the  much  he  had  surmised,  concerning  her- 
self and  tribe;  and  in  many  points  we 
found  our  conjectures  to  correspond  ex- 
actly. 

"  By-the-by,"  I  observed  at  length,  "  it 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


•trikes  me  I  have  seen  some  face  like  hers — 
but  where  and  when  I  cannot  tell — per- 
haps in  my  dreams." 

"  Indeed!"  replied  Huntly  quickly;  "and 
io  have  I — but  thought  it  might  be  fancy 
merely — at  least  that  you  would  think  so 
— and  ti)erefore  kept  it  to  myself." 

"  Who,  then,  is  the  person.'" 

"  You  have  no  ideal" 

*'  None  in  the  least." 

"  And  if  I  tell  you,  and  you  see  no  like- 
ness, you  will  not  ridicule  my  fancy!" 

"Ridicule,  Charlesl  No!  certainly  not. 
But  why  such  a  question!" 

"You  will  understand  that  full  soon." 
'Well,  then,  the  lady?' 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  fair  un- 
known ]" 

"Good  heavens!  how  like!"  I  exclaimed. 
You  are  right,  my  friend — there  is  indeed 

a  wonderful  likeness.        Perhaps But 

no!  the  idea  is  too  chimerical." 

"  Speak  it,  Frank — perhaps  what!" 

"  I  was  about  to  add,  perhaps  they  are 
related — but  that  could  not  be." 

"And  why  not?"  asked  Huntly.  "Such 
a  thing  is  not,  impossible." 

"  Very  true — but  most  highly  improba- 
ble, as  you  will  admit.  The  beautiful  un- 
known we  saw  in  New  York — the  beauti- 
ful mysterious,  if  I  may  so  term  her,  in  the 
Far  West:  the  former,  perhaps,  a  daughter 
of  fashion  in  the  gay  and  polished  circles 
of  civilization — the  latter  among  barbari- 
ans, a  prominent  member  of  a  roving  tribe 
of  savages." 

"But  you  overlook  that  she  could  not  be 
bred  among  savages." 

"And  why  not]" 

"Because  her  English  education,  man- 
ners and  accomplishments,  all  belie  such 
a  supposition.  I  admit  with  you,  that  the 
suggestion  advanced  by  yourself  looks 
liighly  improbable — at  the  same  time,  I 
contend  as  before,  it  is  not  impossi- 
ble." 

"Well,  at  all  events,  Charles,  you 
must  admit  it  i^  utterly  useless  to  argue 
a  point  founded  solely  upon  speculation 
m  both  sides.  We  have  noteventhe  his- 
tory of  Prairie  Flower  to  go  upon,  setting 
aside  entirely  that  of  the  other  party,  and 
consequently  must  come  out  exactly  where 


we  started,  neither  of  us  the  wiser  for  the 
discussion." 

"  Nothing  more  true,"  answered  my 
friend,  musingly.  I  would  to  Heaven  I 
could  learn  tbe  history  of  Prairie  Flower! 
Can  she  be  an  Indian!" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  What  a  perfect  creature  !  and  with  a 
name  as  beautiful  as  her  own  fair  self.  Do 
you  know,  Frank,  I " 

"  Well,  speak  out!" 

"  You  will  not  ridicule  me?" 

"  No." 

"  I  am  half  in  love." 

"  With  whom]" 

"  Prairie  Flower." 

"  Indeed !  Well,  that  is  nothing  strange 
for  you.  I  feel  grateful  enough  to  love 
her  myself.  But,  Charley,  you  did  not  al- 
low her  to  perceive  any  symptoms  of  your 
passion]" 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  But  why  do 
you  ask]" 

"  Because  it  would  offend  her." 

"  Do  you  think  so!" 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  And  wherefore,  Frank]"  asked  my 
friend,  rather  anxiously. 

"  Wherefore,  Charley]  Why,  I  believe 
you  are  in  love  in  earnest." 

"  Have  1  not  admitted  it]" 

"  Only  partially." 

"Then  I  acknowledge  it  fully." 

"  But  how  about  the  unknown]" 

"  I  am  in  love  with  her  too." 

"  Ay,  and  with  every  pretty  face  you 
meet.  But  surely  you  are  not  serious  in 
this  matter]" 

"  I  fear  I  am,"  sighed  Huntly. 

"  But  you  cannot  love  either  much, 
when  you  acknowledge  to  loving  both." 

"  Y(5u  forget  the  resemblance  between 
the  two.  I  could  love  any  being  methinks, 
in  the  absence  of  the  unknown,  who  bore 
her  likeness." 

"But,  for  heaven's  sake!  Charley,  do 
not  let  Prairie  Flower  know  of  this! — for 
it  would  only  be  to  make  her  avoid  us, 
and  perhaps  result  in  unpleasant  conse- 
quences." 

"And  yet,  Frank,  at  the  risk  of  being 
thought  egotistical,  I  must  own  I  have  rea- 
sons for  thinking  my  passion  returned." 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


79 


"  Returned,  say  you?  Why,  are  you 
dreaming!" 

"  No,  in  my  sober  senses." 

"  And  what  reasons,  I  pray]" 

"  Her  manner  towards  me  whenever  we 
meet,  and  whenever  I  speak  to  her.  Sure- 
ly you  must  have  noticed  her  embarrass- 
ment and  change  of  countenance  when  I 
addressed  her  last,  ere  her  hasty  depar- 
ture." 

"  I  did — but  attributed  it,  as  I  told  you 
then,  to  a  dislike  of  flattery  or  praise  to 
the  face." 

"  I  formed  a  different  opinion." 

"  Why  then  did  you  ask  me  the  cause 
of  her  leaving  so  abruptly!" 

"  Merely  to  see  if  you  suspicioned  the 
same  as  I — that,  if  so,  my  own  fancies 
might  have  the  surer  foundation.  Often 
when  she  thought  herself  unnoticed,  have 
I,  by  turning  suddenly  upon  her,  caught 
her  soft,  dark  eye  fixed  earnestly  upon  me, 
with  an  expression  of  deep,  quiet,  melan- 
cholly  tenderness,  which  I  could  not  ac- 
count for,  other  than  an  affectionate  regard 
for  myself;  and  the  more  so,  that  when 
my  eye  caught  hers,  she  ever  turned  her 
gaze  awaj^  blushed,  and  seemed  much  con- 
fused. It  was  this  which  first  divided  my 
thoughts  between  herself  and  you,  and 
awakened  in  my  breast  a  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy and  affection  for  her  in  return." 

"You  may  be  right,"  I  answered,  as  I 
recalled  her  strange  manner  of  the  day 
previous,  when  I  spoke  to  her  of  my  friend 
— and  I  proceeded  to  detail  it  to  Huntly. 
"  But  I  am  truly  sorry  it  is  so,"  I  added,  in 
conclusion. 

«  Why  so,  Frank]" 

"  Because  it  will  only  render  her  unhap- 
py for  life." 

"  What!  if  I " 

"  Well,  say  on!    If  you  what,  Charley]" 

"  I  was  going  to   add — a — marry  her," 
he  replied  in  some  confusion. 
,    "  Marry  her?     Are  you  mad,  Huntly!" 

"  Only  a  little  deranged." 

"  Not  a  little  either,  if  one  may  judge 
by  such  a  remark.  Why,  my  friend,  you 
talk  of  marrying  as  if  it  were  the  most 
trifling  thing  in  the  world.  You  cannot 
be  in  earnest,  surely!  and  it  is  a  bad  mat- 
ter for  a  jest." 


"  I  am  not  jesting  at  all  events,"  he  re- 
plied. "  But  why  not  marry  her,  if  we 
both  love !  Is  there  any  thing  so  remark- 
able in  marriage]" 

I  looked  at  him  earnestly,  to  detect  if 
possible  some  sly  curl  of  the  lip,  some  lit- 
tle sign  which  I  could  construe  into  a  quiz- 
ical  meaning;  but  no!  the  expression  of 
his  countenance  was  uncommonly  seriou?, 
if  anything  rather  melancholy.      He  was 
sincere   beyond   a  doubt,   and    the  very 
j  thought  kept  me  dumb  with  surprise. 
I      "  You  do  not  answer,"  he  said  at  length. 
I «  Perhaps  you  do  not  believe  in  my  sin- 
cerity!" 

"  Ay,  too  truly  I  do,"  I  rejoined;  "  and 
the  very  knowledge  made  me  speechless. 
Why,  my  dear  friend,  what  are  you  think- 
ing of?  You,  the  young,  wealthy,  aristo- 
cratic Charles  Huntly,  prating  seriously  to 
me  of  marriage,  and  that  to  a  nameless 
Indian  girl  of  whose  history  you  know  no- 
thing, and  whose  acquaintance  you  have 
made  within  a  week!  What!  can  this  be 
the  same  wild,  reckless  school-mate  of 
mine,  whose  mind  six  months  ago  rarely 
harbored  an  idea  beyond  uttering  a  jest  or 
playing  a  prank  upon  some  unsuspecting 
individual?  Surely  you  are  not  in  your 
sober  senses,  Charley!  or  this  is  a  land  of 
miracles  indeed." 

"  I  am  not  what  I  was,"  sighed  my 
friend,  "  though  I  believe  not  the  less  in 
my  senses  for  that.  That  I  was  a  gay, 
wild  youth  once,  is  no  evidence  I  should 
always  remain  one.  To  me  there  appears 
nothing  remarkable,  that  one  whose  life 
has  been  a  scene  of  folly,  shoulc}  become 
changed  by  the  near  approach  m  death. 
I  have  suffered  too  much  within  the  past 
week,  both  in  body  and  mind,  not  to  have 
very  serious  reflections.  As  regards  Prai- 
rie Flower,  I  acknowledge,  as  before,  I 
am  totally  ignorant  of  her  history;  that, 
as  you  say,  I  have  known  her  barely  a 
week;  but  I  cannot  forget  that  I  am  her 
debtor,  both  for  my  own  life  and  yours. 
That  she  is  a  rare  being,  too  good  almost 
to  grace  a  world  so  cold  and  uncharitable 
as  this,  none  who  have  seen  and  conversed 
with  her  as  much  as  I,  can  doubt  for  a  mo- 
ment. Regarding  marriage,  I  am  very  far 
from  thinking  it  a  trifling  affair — on  the 


n. 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


contrary,  one  of  the  most  serious  ot  a 
man's  life.  It  is  an  event  to  make  or  mar 
his  iiappiness;  and  for  that  reason  should 
he  considered  with  all  due  solemnity,  and 
every  tiling  pertaining  to  it  duly  weighed, 
that  none  may  afterwards  be  found  want- 
ing. Had  I  proposed  to  you  to  unite  my- 
self with  a  lady  of  fine  accomplishments 
and  fortune,  would  you  have  asked  the 
question  if  both  loved — if  she  was  one  to 
make  me  happy]  Probably  not;  for  her 
wealth  would  prove  the '  silver  veil,'  to  con- 
ceal all  her  defects.  Should  a  man  take 
the  solemn  vows  of  marriage  to  please 
himself  or  friends'?  Should  he  do  so  mere- 
ly to  make  a  display  in  public,  and  render 
his  heart  in  private  the  seat  of  misery"! 
Of  what  value  is  gold,  if  it  add  nothing  to 
a  man's  happiness?  Riches  are  unstable, 
and  often,  as  the  proverb  has  it, '  take  to 
themselves  wings  and  fly  away.'  And 
then,  to  him  who  has  made  these  his  god 
— who  has  wedded  them  and  not  the  wo- 
man— what  is  the  result]  A  few  days  of 
misery  and  an  unhappy  end.  Do  not  con- 
clude from  this,  my  dear  Frank,  that  I  have 
resolved  to  marry  Prairie  Flower;  for  un- 
til it  was  suggested  by  your  own  remarks, 
such  athought  never  entered  my  head;  and 
even  novi?  such  a  result  is  highly  improba- 
ble. I  merely  hinted  at  the  possibility  of 
the  thing,  to  ascertain  what  effect  it  would 
have  upon  you." 

"  Well,  I  am  happy  in  knowing  the  mat- 
ter is  not  so  serious  as  I  was  at  first  led  to 
suppose.  Take  my  word,  Charley,  it  is 
only  a  mere  whim  of  the  moment,  which 
will  pass  away  with  a  return  of  health  and 
strength.  When  the  body  becomes  dis- 
eased, it  is  not  uncommon  for  the  mind  to 
be  affected  also;  and  though  the  idea  you 
have  suggested  may  seem  plausible  now — 
mark  me!  you  will  yet  live  to  think  it  pre- 
posterous, and  laugh  at  your  present  folly." 

*'  Then,  Frank,  you  think  my  mind  un- 
sound?" 

'•Not  in  a  healthy  state,  certainly — or, 
with  your  quick  sense  of  perception,  you 
would  have  become  aware  ere  this,  that, 
no  maiter  how  deep  her  love,  Prairie  Flow- 
er is  one  to  reject  even  Charles  Hunt- 
ly," 

"  Reject  me,  Frank,  say   you? — reject 


me?"  cried  Huntly,  quickly,  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 

"  Ay,  reject  you — even  you — the  rich, 
educated,  and  polished  Charles  Huntly." 

"  And  why,  Frank?'* 

"First,  because  her  proud,  retiring  na- 
ture would  rebel  at  the  thought  of  an  al- 
liance with  one  whom  the  world  might 
consider  her  superior.  Secondly,  because 
her  sense  of  duty  would  not  allow  her  to 
depart  from  her  tribe,  to  which  she  belongs 
either  by  birth  or  adoption.  Thirdly,  and 
conclusively,  because  she  is  one  who  has 
evidently  resolved  to  remain  single  through 
life.  She  is  a  girl  possessed  of  a  remark- 
able mind,  which,  once  fixed  upon  a  point, 
ramains  unchangeable  forever.  That  she 
loves  you,  I  now  believe;  that  you  return 
the  passion,  in  a  measure,  you  have  ac- 
knowledged; but  that  she  would  consent 
to  leave  her  tribe  and  pledge  herself  to 
you  for  life,  I  believe  a  thing  impossible." 

"  You  perhaps  have  reasons  for  thinking 
thus?"  observed  Huntly,  eyeing  me  sharply. 

"  Nothing  more  than  what  I  have  gath- 
ered from  noting  her  closely,  during  the 
brief  period  of  our  acquaintance.  I  may 
be  wrong,  but  time  will  show.  At  all 
events,  my  friend,  I  warn  you,  if  you  feel 
an  increasing  passion  or  aflection  for  this 
girl,  to  suppress  it  at  once,  and  leave  the 
vicinity  as  soon  as  the  health  of  both  of 
us  will  permit." 

"  I  will  think  of  it,  my  dear  friend  ;  and 
in  the  mean  time,  do  you  watch  Prairie 
Flower  closely — as  I  will  myself — to  learn 
if  your  surmises  be  correct;  and  should  a 
convenient  opportunity  offer,  fail  not  to 
use  it  to  find  out  the  true  state  of  her  feel- 
ings regarding  myself.    I But  enough 

— she  comes." 

As  he  spoke,  Prairie  Flower  entered  the 
lodge  to  put  an  end  to  our  conversation, 
lest  harm  might  be  done  me  by  too  much 
excitement.  I  now  observed  her  narrow- 
ly, and  saw  there  was  a  constraint  in  her 
manner,  which  she  only  the  more  exposed 
by  trying  to  conceal  and  appear  perfectly 
natural.  She  gently  reminded  Huntly  it 
was  time  for  him  to  witlidraw;  and  though 
he  strove  hard  to  catch  the  soft  glance  of 
her  dark  beaming  eye,  yet  all  his  efforts 
proved  fruitless  ;  and   pressing  my  hand. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


81 


with  a  hearty  "God  bless  you!"  and  a  deep, 
earnest  prayer  for  my  speedy  recovery,  he 
quitted  the  apartment. 

Asking  me  one  or  two  questions  regard- 
ing the  effect  produced  upon  me  by  my 
friend's -visit,  and  finding  instead  of  injury 
it  had  resulted  to  my  benefit,  Prairie  Flow- 
er bade  me  seek  instant  repose  in  sleep; 
and  promising  that  Huntly  should  see  me 
again  on  the  following  day,  she  turned, 
and  in  a  musing  mood,  with  her  head  drop- 
ped upon  her  bosom,  and  slow  steps,  disap- 
peared. 

There  was  no  mistaking  it ;  Prairie 
Flower  was  in  love  with  my  friend;  and  I 
sighed  at  the  thought,  that  the  hour  of  her 
friendship  to  us,  might  prove  the  data  of 
her  own  unhappiness. 


CHAPTER  XVni. 

CONVALESCENCE THE        MYSTERIOUS      OR 

GREAT  MEDICINE  TRIBE — THEIR  MANNERS 
— THEIR  DAILY  MODE  OF  WORSHIP — THEIR 
MORNING,  NOON  AND  EVENING  SONGS — 
A   WEDDING ^A   FUNERAL,   ETC. 

Time  rolled  on  slowly,  each  day  adding 
something  to  my  convalescence,  and  the 
expiration  of  a  month  found  me  so  far  re- 
covered as  to  venture  on  a  short  stroll  in 
the  open  air.  During  this  long  period  of 
confinement,  (to  me  it  seemed  a  year.) 
Prairie  Flower  and  Huntly  visited  me  ev- 
ery day,  though  rarely  together;  and  to- 
ward the  last,  my  friend  became  an  almost 
constant  companion. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  emotions  of  gra- 
titude and  joy  which  I  experienced  on  be- 
holding once  more  the  green  leaves  and 
blades,  the  bright  flowers  and  glorioias  sun- 
shine, feeling  again  the  soft,  balmy  breeze 
of  heaven  upon  my  emaciated  frame,  and 
hearing  the  artless  songs  of  the  forest  warb- 
lers. Earth,  which  for  a  time  had  seemed 
cold  and  dreary,  now  appeared  changed 
to  a  heavenly  paradise,  and  I  could  not 
realize  I  had  ever  seen  it  look  so  en- 
chantly  beautiful  before.  In  this  I  was 
doubtless  correct;  for  never  before  had  I 
been  absent  from  it  so  long;  and  the  con- 


trast between  the  grim,  rude  walls  of  my 
late  abode,  and  all  I  now  beheld,  was 
enough  to  have  put  in  ecstacies  a  far  less 
excitable  and  enthusiastic  individual  than 
myself. 

The  village  of  the  Mysterious  or  Great 
Medicine  Tribe,  I  found  to  consist  of  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  lodges,  situated  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain  so  as  to  overlook  a 
beautiful  valley  some  quarter  of  a  mile  be- 
low, through  which  flowed  a  murmuring 
stream  that  formed  one  of  the  tributaries 
of  the  Platte.  The  cabins,  though  on- 
ly temporarily  erected,  were  very  comfort- 
able, and  placed  so  as  to  form  a  complete 
circle,  in  the  center  of  which  stood  the 
Great  Medicine  l^idge  of  Cha-cha-chee-kee- 
hobah,  where  I  had  been  confined,  and  by 
which,  as  I  now  learned,  I  had  been  high- 
ly honored,  inasmuch  as  not  a  soul  besides 
its  owner  and  Prairie  Flower,  unless  by 
special  permit,  was  ever  allowed  to  cross 
its  threshold.  This  then  accounted  for 
my  not  having  seen  any  of  the  tribe  dur- 
ing my  confinement  in  bed.  The  Great 
Medicine  lodge,  and  one  other,  were  dis- 
tinguished from  the  rest  by  their  whitish 
appearance,  done  probably  by  a  limish 
composition  found  on  the  mountains.  This 
other  alluded  to,  was  the  residence  of  Prai- 
rie Flower,  and  two  young,  dark-skinned, 
black-haired,  bright-eyed,  pretty-faced  In- 
dian girls,  whose  countenances  and  cos- 
tumes bespoke  intelligence  and  superiori- 
ty. 

Among  this  tribe  were  some  twenty  fe- 
males and  as  many  children,  and  the  bal- 
ance males,  all  of  whom  were  decently 
clad,  and  clean  and  tidy  in  their  appear- 
ance. Save  Prairie  Flower,  but  very  few 
of  them  wore  any  kind  of  ornaments,  and 
their  dark,  clear  skins  were  not  in  the  least 
bedaubed  with  paint.  Most  of  them  spoke 
the  English  language,  and  some  quite  flu- 
ently ;  and  I  observed  many  an  old  well 
thumbed  book — generally  a  bible — lying 
about  their  wigwams.  In  tlieir  intercourse 
with  myself  and  friend,  they  displayed  a 
dignified  courtesy,  and  not  one  of  all  the 
children  did  I  ever  observe  to  behave  in 
a  rude  or  unbecoming  manner. 

They  were,  take  them  all  in  all,  a  re- 
markable people,  and  rightly  named  the 


32 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


Mysterious  Tribe  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
judge,  very  zealous  in  the  cause  of  Chris- 
tianity. Three  times  a  day  did  they  col- 
lect for  public  devotion  to  the  Great  Spi- 
rit; and  their  ceremony,  though  simple,  was 
one  of  the  most  impressive  I  ever  witness- 
ed.    It  was  in  the  following  manner. 

At  sunrise,  noon  and  sunset,  Prairie 
Flower  and  her  two  Indian  companions 
would  come  forth  from  their  lodge,  array- 
ed in  neat  and  simple  attire,  each  bearing 
in  her  hand  a  kind  of  drum,  or  tamborine 
without  the  bells,  and  approaching  the 
Great  Medicine  lodge,  would  arrange  them- 
selves in  its  front.  Then  bowing  to  the 
east  and  west,  the  north  and  south,  they 
would  beat  the  tambarines  with  their  fin- 
gers— whereupon  the  whole  village,  men, 
women  and  children,  would  hastily  quit 
whatever  occupation  they  might  be  at,  and 
assemble  around  them,  their  faces  expres- 
sive of  the  importance  and  solemnity 
which  they  attached  to  the  occasion. — 
The  tambariAes  would  continue  to  beat 
until  all  were  gathered  together,  when  a 
deep  and  impressive  silence  would  ensue, 
during  which  eacli  face  would  be  turned 
upward,  as  if  to  solicit  the  Great  Guar- 
dian uf  all  to  be  with  them  in  their  devo- 
tions. Then  the  maidens  would  strike  out 
into  a  clear,  silvery  song,  and  at  the  end 
of  each  stanza  would  be  joined  in  the 
chorus  by  all  of  both  sexes,  young  and  old, 
during  which  each  would  kneel  upon  the 
earth,  and  continue  there  until  the  com- 
mencement of  the  next,  when  all  would 
again  rise  to  their  feet. 

These  songs,  of  which  there  were  three, 
were  translated  to  me  by  Prairie  Flower, 
at  my  request,  and  I  herewith  give  them — 
if  not  in  language,  at  least  in  spirit  and 
sentiment — commencing  with  the 

MORNING  SONG. 
The  day  is  up,  the  sun  appears, 
That  sun  of  many  thousand  years, 
And  morninij  smiles  through  evening's  tears: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
To  Thee  who  made  the  earth  and  sky, 
The  hosts  that  go  revolving  by, 
And  all  that  live  and  all  that  die — 
God!  God!  God! 

cnonus. 
Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
O,  'bless  us,  Spirit, 


That  doth  inherit 

The  earth  and  air, 

And  every  where! 

And  save  us,  Thou, 

To  whom  we  bow, 

All  humbly  now, 
Our  Great  and  Heavenly  Father! 
The  day  is  up,  and  through  our  sleep 
We've  felt  no  visitations  deep. 
And  nothing  wherefore  we  should  weep: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
Preserve  us  still  throughout  the  day. 
Teach  us  to  seek  the  better  way, 
And  let  us  never  go  astray — 
GoJ!  God!  God! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
O,  bless  us,  Spirit, 
That  doth  inherit 
The  earth  and  air, 
And  every  where! 
And  save  us,  Thou, 
To  whom  we  bow, 
All  humbly  now, 
Our  Great  and  Heavenly  Father! 

NOON-DAY  SONG. 
The  day  moves  on  and  all  goes  well, 
More  blessings  now  than  we  can  tell. 
With  gratitude  our  hearts  do  swell: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
Bless  and  preserve  us  still,  we  pray, 
With  food  and  raiment  line  our  way. 
And  keep  us  to  the  close  of  day- 
God!  God!  God! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
Father  of  heaven. 
To  thee  be  given 
Unbounded  jiraise, 
Through  endless  days! 
And  like  the  sun, 

In  heaven  above, 
Pour  on  us  now 
K  Thy  warmth  of  love! 

And  may  our  feet 

Forever  press. 
The  virtuous  paths 
Which  thou  doth  bless! 
To  thee  all  praise,  Lord,  God,  our  Father! 

The  noon-day  breezes  now  go  by. 
The  forest  gives  a  welcome  sigh. 
The  murmuring  streamlets  sweet  reply: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
The  birds  carol,  the  insects  sing. 
And  joy  beams  out  in  every  thing. 
For  which  all  praise  to  Thee  we  bring— 

God!  God!  God! 

CHORUS. 

Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
Father  of  Heaven, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


83 


To  thee  be  given 
Unbounded  praise, 
Through  endless  days! 
And  like  the  sun. 

In  heaven  above, 
Pour  on  us  now 

Thy  warmth  of  love! 
And  may  our  feet 

Forever  press. 
The  virtuous  paths 

Which  Thou  doth  bless? 
To  thee  all  praise,  Lord,  God,  our  Father! 

EVENING  SONG. 
The  day  is  dying,  wood  and  wold 
Are  growing  dim,  as  we  behold, 
And  night  will  soon  us  all  enfold: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
That  Thou  the  day  hath  kept  us  through, 
Taught  each  his  duty  right  to  do. 
And  made  us  all  so  happy  too — • 

God!  God!  God! 

CHOKUS. 

Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
All  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky. 
Are  marked  by  His  all-seeing  eye. 
Which  will  look  deep  into  the  night, 
To  note  if  each  one  doeth  right. 
And  watch  us  in  our  dream-s  of  sleep. 
On  all  our  thoughts  and  actions  keep: 
So  may  each  thought,  each  deed  we  do, 
Be  one  thai  will  bear  looking  through! 
And  bless  us.  Thou, 
To  whom  we  bow, 
All  humbly  now. 
Most  great  Lord,  God,  Almighty! 
The  sun  hath  set  in  yonder  west,   . 
The  beasts  and  birds  are  seeking'rest. 
All  nature  is  in  sable  dressed: 

Thanks!  thanks!  thanks! 
Preserve  us.  Thou,  till  morning  light 
Doth  lift  the  sable  veil  of  night! 
May  holy  angels  guard  us  right. 
Our  sleep  be  sweet,  our  dreams  be  bright, 
And  not  a  thing  our  souls  affright — 
God!  God!  God! 

CHOiirs. 
Kneel!  kneel!  kneel! 
All  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky, 
Are  rrarked  by  His  all-seeing  eye, 
\Vliich  will  look  deep  into  the  night, 
To  note  if  each  one  doeth  right. 
And  watch  us  in  our  dreams  of  sleep, 
On  all  our  thoughts  and  actions  keep: 
So  may  each  thought,  each  deed  we  do. 
Be  one  that  will  bear  looking  tlirough! 
And  bless  us.  Thou, 
To  whom  we  bow, 
All  humbly  now. 
Most  great  Lord,  God,  Almighty! 
It  is  impossible  for  me  to  convey  the 
f5weet  and  plaintive  melody  which  accom- 


panied each  song,  and  which,  before  I 
knew  a  word  that  was  uttered,  produced 
upon  my  mind,  and  that  of  my  friend,  the 
most  pleasing  and  solemn  effect — particu- 
larly as  we  noted  that  each  was  accompa- 
nied with  an  earnestness  and  sincerity  of 
manner,  such  as  I  had  rarely  witnessed  in 
Christian  churches  within  the  borders  of 
civilization.  At  the  end  of  each  of  these 
songs,  and  while  the  assemblage  remained 
in  the  kneeling  posture  of  the  chorus,  the 
Old-Man-of-the-Mountains  would  suddenly 
make  his  appearance,  and  hooping  his 
arms  before  him  and  bowing,  after  the 
Turkish  fashion,  would  utter  a  few  words 
as  a  sort  of  benediction — whereupon  all 
would  rise,  and  each  depart  quietly  to  his 
lodge,  or  his  previous  occupation. 

The  devotional  scenes  just  mentioned 
were  of  every  day  occurrence,  when  no- 
thing of  importance  had  transpired  to 
elate  the  actors  with  joy  or  depress  them 
with  grief — in  either  of  which  events,  the 
songs  and  manner  of  worship 'was  changed 
to  suit  the  occasion. 

With  this  people,  a  wedding  or  a  funeral 
was  a  very  important  afTuir;  and  as  I  so- 
journed some  two  months  or  more  among 
them,  ere  my  strength  permitted  me  to  de- 
part, I  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing 
both.  As  the  former  was  the  first  in  or- 
der of  occurrence,  I  shall  proceed  to  de- 
scribe it  first. 

The  bride  was  an  intpresting  Indian 
maiden,  some  seventeen  yeors  of  age,  and 
the  groom  a  tall,  athletic  Indian,  her  se- 
nior by  at  least  five  more.  Both  were  be- 
comingly decked  with  wampum  belts,  fig- 
ured moccasins,  and  various  ornaments, 
worn  around  the  neck  and  arms,  those  of 
the  maiden  being  bare  above  the  elbow, 
and  displaying  her  rich,  dark  skin  to  good 
advantage.  Around  the  head  of  each  was 
bound  a  wreath  of  ivy,  di'^ersified  with  a 
few  sprigs  of  cedar,  emblematical,  as  I 
was  informed,  of  their  love,  which  must 
ever  remain  green  and  unfading. 

The  nuptial  ceremony  took  place  in  the 
lodge  of  the  bride,  and  was  as  follows.  On 
the  announcement  that  all  was  ready,  a 
deputation  of  maidens,  consisting  for  the 
most  part  of  Prairie  Flower  and  her  com- 
panions, surrounded  the  bride,  and  placing 


84 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


their  hands  on  her  head, asked  her  several 
questions  pertaining  to  herself  and  lover, 
the  most  important  of  which  were,  if  she 
truly  loved  him  she  was  about  to  take  for- 
ever, and  thought  that  marriage  would  in- 
crease her  happiness.  Receiving  replies 
in  the  affirmative,  they  commenced  singing 
in  a  low,  melodious  tone,  the  subjoined 

BRIDAL  SONG. 

Bloomiiin;  maiden, 

Heavy  laden 
With  new  hopes,  and  joys,  and  fears — 

Sad  witli  gladness, 

Glad  with  sadness, 
Thou  art  going,  young  in  years. 

To  another, 

More  than  brother, 

Father,  mother, 

Or  aught  other 
Which  among  thy  race  appears. 

We  have  bound  thee, 

A  s  we  found  thee, 
With  unfading  green  wreathed  thee — 

Emblem  fitting. 

Unremitting 
Must  thy  love  forever  be ; 

That  thou  ever 

Must  endeavor 

Not  to  sever. 

Now,  nor  never. 
Bonds  of  time,  eternity. 

Now  go,  maiden, 

Sweetly  laden 
With  all  blessings  vv^'ve  in  store — 

Take  him  to  thee, 

Who  did  woo  thee. 
Deeper  love  him  than  before: 

God  be  sending 

His  defending, 

Joy  portending, 

Never  ending 
Blessings  on  thee,  evermore ! 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  song,  each  of 
the  singers  laid  her  right  hand  upon  the 
head  of  the  bride,  and  commenced  dancing 
around  her  in  a  circle.  This  lasted  some 
ten  minutes,  during  which  time  a  deputa- 
tion of  Indian  youths — or  what  in  any 
other  tribe  would  have  been  termed  braves 
— led  forward  the  groom  to  within  a  few 
feet  of  his  intended,  and  commenced  a 
similar  dance  around  him,  accompanying 
it  with  a  song,  the  same  in  sentiment,  if 
not  in  language,  as  the  one  just  given. 
This  dance  over,  the  youths  and  maidens 


fell  back  in  two  rows,  facing  each  other, 
while  the  groom  and  bride  modestly  ad- 
vanced, unattended,  and  took  hold  of  hands. 
In  this  manner  a!l  quitted  the  lodge 
for  the  open  air,  where  the  villagers 
were  drawn  up  to  receive  them,  and  who 
immediately  formed  a  dense  circle  around 
them.  Then,  amid  a  deep  silence,  all 
kneeled  upon  the  earth,  and  rising,  point- 
ed their  right  fore-fingers  to  the  sky,  and 
bowed  to  the  four  great  points  of  com- 
pass. Then  all,  save  the  bride  and  groom, 
united  in  the  following 

BRIDAL  CHORUS. 
Joined  in  heart,  and  joined  in  hand, 

By  great  Heaven's  wise  decree. 
Ye  must  ever  so  endeavor. 
That  ye  ne'er  may  parted  be — 

Never!  never! 

So,  forever, 
May  Almighty  Power  bless  ye, 

In  your  prime, 

And  through  all  time, 
And  on  through  all  eternity  ! 

As  the  chorus  concluded,  the  ring  open- 
ed, and  the  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains 
made  his  appearance,  bearing  in  one  hand 
a  long  staff,  and  in  the  other  a  horn  cup 
of  smoking  incense,  which  he  waved  to 
and  fro.  Approaching  the  bride  and 
groom,  he  held  it  between  them,  and  lay- 
ing his  staff  on  their  heads,  and  bidding 
them  again  join  hands,  he  proceeded  to 
chant,  in  a  feeble,  cracked  voice,  the 

CLOSING  MARRIAGE  STRAIN. 

As  this  incense  to  Pleaven, 

So  your  vows  here  are  given, 
And  written  by  angels  above. 

On  the  ponderous  pages, 

Of  the  great  Book  of  Ages, 
And  stamped  with  His  great  seal  of  Love. 

By  earth  and  by  air, 

By  water  and  fire. 
By  every  thing  under  the  sun — 

By  your  own  plighted  faith, 

To  be  true  unto  death, 
In  God's  name  I  pronounce  you  twain  one ! 

Waving  his  stick  once  more  above  their 
heads,  and  uttering  his  usual  word  "  Onh- 
chi,"  Great  Medicine  retraced  his  steps  to 
his  lodge.  On  his  departure,  the  friends 
of  the  newly  married  pair  stepped  forward 
in  the  order  of  relation,  and  greeted  both 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


85 


with  a  hearty  shaking  of  hands,  and  invo- 
cations of  blessings  from  the  Great  Spirit. 
Then  followed  a  feast  prepared  for  the  oc- 
casion, consisting  principally  of  buffalo, 
bear  and  deer  meat,  together  with  that  of 
various  wild  fowls.  This  was  eaten  seat- 
ed upon  buffalo-skins,  and  was  served  to 
the  larger  party  by  four  waiters,  two  of  both 
sexes.  After  this  came  one  or  two  more 
songs,  in  which  all  joined,  and  a  general 
dance  closed  the  festivities  of  the  day. 

The  funeral  which  I  witnessed,  was  that 
of  a  young  man  greatly  beloved  by  his 
tribe.  The  day  succeeding  his  death,  was 
the  one  appointed  for  the  solemn  ceremony 
of  sepulture.  Meantime  the  body  remain- 
ed in  the  lodge  where  the  vital  spark  had 
been  extinguished,  and,  locked  up  with  it 
from  all  intrusion,  remained  also  the  near 
relatives  of  the  deceased,  fasting  and  em- 
ploying their  moments  in  prayer. 

When  the  time  for  the  funeral  serv-ice 
had  arrived,  four  Indian  youths,  who  had 
been  companions  of  the  deceased,  entered 
the  lodge,  and  wrapping  the  body  in  a  buf- 
falo-hide, bore  it  to  that  of  Great  Medi- 
cine, and  deposited  it  on  the  ground  out- 
side.    Hither  followed  the  relatives,  their 
heads  bound  with  withered  flowers   and 
leaves,  emblematical  of  the  decay  of  every 
thing  earthly,  however    fair   and   beauti- 
ful.    Forming  a  narrow  circle  round  the 
body,  they  kneeled  upon  the  earth,  and 
placing  their  right  hands  upon  the  breast 
of  the  departed,  and  their  left  upon  their 
hearts,  uttered  low  and  plaintive  moans — 
the  signal  that  all  was  ready  for  the  mourn- 
ful rite.     Next  appeared  Prairie  Flower, 
with  three  other  maidens,  and  approaching 
the  youths,  all  clasped  hands  and  formed  a 
ring  outside  the  circle  of  kneeling  and 
weeping  relatives.    Then  they  commenced 
walking  round  the  living  and  dead,  and  as 
they  passed  the  head  of  the  latter,  each 
uttered  a  short  prayer,  that  his  noble  spirit 
might  find  eternal  rest  beyond  the  grave. 
When  this  was  concluded.  Great  Medicine 
appeared,  holding  in  his  hand  a  drum,  which 
he  beat  rapidly  a  few  times,  whereupon 
the  remainder  of  the  villagers  came  forth 
from  their  lodges,  and  formed  a  third  circle 
outside  of  all.     The  second  circle  now  fell 
back  to  the  largest,  leaving  a  wide  space 


between  it  and  the  mourners,  who  still  re- 
mained kneeling  as  before.  A  short  si- 
lence followed,  when  the  leader  of  the 
corpse  bearers  stepped  forward,  and  set 
forth,  in  a  clear,  musical  tone,  the  many 
virtues  of  the  dead,  and  pronounced  an 
eloquent  eulogy  over  his  remains. 

On  the  conclusion  of  this,  the  speaker 
took  his  place  among  the  rest,  when  all' 
broke  forth  in  the  following 

FUNERAL  DIRGE. 

Gone !  gone !  gone ! 
From  earth  gone  forever : 
No  more  here  we'll  meet  him. 
No  more  here  we'll  greet  him, 

No  more,  nevermore — 

All  is  o'er,  evermore — 
Forever !  forever ! 
He's  gone  from  the  mortal — 
He's  passed  Death's  great  portal — 

And  now  will  his  spirit 

Forever  inherit, 

In  regions  of  bliss,  ^ 

What  it  could  not  in  this. 
Passed  from  all  sorrow. 

Vexation  and  care. 
Gone  to  the  regions 

That  bright  angels  share. 
In  yon  golden  Heaven 

His  spirit  will  rest. 
With  joys  the  most  holy 

Forever  be  blessed. 

Weep  !  weep !  weep  ! 
But  weep  not  in  sorrow : 
Wi'h  tears  bend  above  him, 
With  tears  show  you  love  him — 

But  weep  for  relief, 

Rather  than  grief — 
For  to-morrow — to-morrow — 
Ye  may  join  him  in  glory, 
To  tell  the  bright  story, 

Of  earthly  denials, 

Losses  and  trials. 

Of  unwavering  faith. 

Of  joy  to  meet  death. 
That  your  spirit  in  freedom 

Forever  might  roam, 
O'er  the  sweet  vales  of  Men, 

Your  last  lovely  home — 
To  join  there  in  singing. 

As  bright  angels  do, 
The  songs  of  Great  Spirit, 

Eternity  tlirough. 

This  was  sung  to  a  mournful  tune,  and 
when  the  last  strain  had  died  away  upon  the 
air,  all  simultaneously  dropped  upon  their 
knees,  and  bowed  their  heads  to  the  earth, 


86 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


in  token  of  submission  to  the  Divine  will. 
Then  they  rose  to  their  feet,  mourners  and 
all,  and  forming  themselves  into  two  long 
lines,  the  four  bearers  proceeded  to  raise 
ihe  corpse  slowly  and  in  silence,  and  pre- 
ceded by  Great  Medicine,  and  followed  by 
the  maidens,  the  relatives  and  the  rest, 
two  by  two,  all  moved  solemnly  forward 
to  the  last  earthly  resting  place  of  the 
dead,  a  rude  grave  scooped  out  in  the  side 
of  the  mountain,  some  forty  rods  distant 
from  the  village. 

Depositing  the  body  in  the  ground  with 
all  due  reverence,  the  bearers  threw  upon 
it  a  handful  of  the  loose  earth,  and  moved 
aside  for  the  others  to  do  the  same.  This 
concluded,  the  villagers  formed  a  large 
ring  around  the  open  grave,  when  Great 
Medicine  stepped  forward  to  the  center 
and  chanted 

THE  LAST  DIRGE. 

Formed  of  dust 

The  spirit  spurneth, 
Back  to  dust 

The  body  turneth — 
But  the  spirit, 

Passed  death's  portal. 
Doth  become 

A  thing  immortal. 

Ye  who  mourn  him, 

Be  unshaken, 
That  Who  gave, 

Again  hath  taken — 
That  the  dead, 

Before  }'e  lying. 
Made  a  happy 

Change  in  dying. 

And  ye  dead, 

Here  rest  in  quiet. 
Till  ye  hear 

The  final  fiat. 
That  in  voice. 

More  loud  than  thunder, 
Shall  command 

Your  tomb  assunder ! 
To  earth  we  consign  thee  I 
To  God  we  resign  thee ! 


Sleep!  sleep!  sleep! 
The  birds  shall  carol  o'er  thy  head, 
The  stream  shall  murmur  o'er  its  bed, 
The  breeze  shall  make  the  forest  sigh, 
And  flowers  above  thee  bloom  and  die — 
But  birds,  and  stream,  and  breeze,  and  flowers, 
tjhall  joy  no  more  thy  sleeping  hours. 


To  earth  we  consign  thee ! 
To  G63  we  resign  thee  I 
Farewell ! 

The  chorus  was  sung  by  all  with  im- 
pressive solemnity,  and  on  its  conclusion, 
the  four  corpse  bearers  advanced,  and  with 
wooden  spades  buried  the  dead  forever 
from  the  sight  of  the  living.  Two  by 
two,  in  the  same  order  they  had  come 
hither,  the  whole  party  returned  to  the 
village,  and  the  day  was  spent  in  fasting 
and  devotional  exercises. 

The  food  of  the  Great  Medicine  Natioa 
consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of  meat  of 
various  wild  animals,  which  they  general- 
ly killed  with  rifles,  together  with  a  few 
fish,  for  which  they  angled  in  the  streams. 
Sometimes  they  planted  and  raised  a  small 
patch  of  corn,  as  was  the  case  in  the  pre- 
sent instance;  but  their  roving  life,  as  a 
general  thing,  led  them  to  depend  upon 
such  vegetable  food  as  chanced  in  their 
way.  Among  them  they  owned  some  fif- 
teen horses,  as  many  tame  goats,  which 
they  milked  daily,  and  twice  the  number 
of  mules.  They  also  owned  a  few  traps, 
and  when  in  a  beaver  country,  did  not  fail 
using  them  to  procure  pelts;  which, 
together  with  bufFalo  and  bear  skins, 
they  traded  with  the  whites  for  such 
e.xtras  as  they  considered  useful.  With 
them  all  property,  with  the  exception  of 
bodily  raiment,  was  in  common;  and  each 
labored,  not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  hi« 
neighbor  also.  During  the  day  their  ani- 
mals fed  around  the  encampment,  and  in 
the  valley  at  the  base  of  the  mountain — 
but  at  night  all  were  driven  in  and  carrel- 
led,  or  yarded,  within  the  village. 

Never  before  had  I  seen  a  people  appear 
so  wholly  content  with  whatever  Provi- 
dence might  give  them,  and  so  perfectly 
happy  among  themselves;  and  the  time  I 
spent  with  them,  however  singular  tha 
statement  may  seem  to  others,  I  must  ac- 
count one  of  the  most  pleasant  periods  of 
my  life. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


87 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

EESOLVE  TO  RESUME  OUR  JOURNEY — AN- 
N0UNCE3IENT  TO  PRAIRIE  FLOWER — HER 
SURPRISE  AND  REGRET — DANGERS  ENUME- 
RATED— A  CARELESS    QUESTION ABRUPT 

ANSWER — ALARMING  AGITATION  OF  PRAI- 
RIE    FLOWER — OUR    JOURNEY     POSPOKED 

THREE     DAYS HASTY     DEPARTURE   OF 

PRAIRIE    FLOWER. 

It  was  about  the  beginning  of  Septem- 
ber, that  I  found  my  wounds  so  far  healed 
and  my  strength  so  much  recovered,  as  to 
think  seriously  of  taking  my  departure. 
The  air,  too,  on  the  mountains  was  becom- 
ing cool  and  frosty;  and  as  my  friend  and 
T  had  decided  on  crossing  to  Oregon  or 
California  before  the  snow-storms  of  win- 
ter should  entirely  bar  our  progress,  we 
thought  best  to.be  on  the  move  as  soon  as 
possible. 

During  my  stay  in  the  village,  I  had 
seen  and  conversed  more  or  less  with  Prai- 
rie Flower  every  day,  and  noted  with  re- 
gret that  her  features  gradually  grew  more 
and  more  pale,  her  eye  more  languid  and 
less  blight,  her  step  less  elastic  and  buoy- 
ant, and  that  she  moved  slowly  and  heavi- 
ly over  the  ground,with  her  head  bent  for- 
ward in  a  mood  of  deep  abstraction.  The 
cause  of  this  I  was  at  no  loss  to  conjec- 
ture, particularly  as  I  saw  a  studied  effort 
on  her  part  to  avoid  my  friend  on  all  occa- 
sions, and  that,  when  they  did  meet,  she 
ever  exhibited  toward  him  a  coldness  total- 
ly foreign  to  her  v/arm,  frank,  open,  gener- 
ous nature.  Huntly  noticed  her  seeming 
aversion  to  him,  with  less  philosophy  than 
I  had  expected  to  see  him  display.  In  fact 
he  became  exceedingly  troubled  about  it, 
and  often  told  me,  Vi?ith  a  sigh,  that  he 
must  have  been  mistaken — that  she  did 
not  love  him — but  that  it  was  me  on  whom 
her  affections  were  placed.  I  contradicted 
him  only  so  far  as  to  say,  that  she  cared 
no  more  for  me  than  for  him;  but  I  did  not 
care  to  tell  him  the  real  cause  of  her  cold- 
ness— for  I  saw  it  would  only  serve  to  in- 
flame his  passion,  and,  from  what  I  could 
judge,  render  both  the  more  unhappy. 

That  Prairie  Flower  loved  my  friend, 
and  that  too  against  her  will,  was  to  me  as 


clear  as  daylight;  and  the  anguish  it  must 
have  cost  her  gentle  heart  to  avoid  and 
appear  cold  and  indifferent  toward  him,  I 
could  better  imagine  than  realize.  Sever- 
al times  had  I  been  tempted  to  broach  to 
her  the  subject,  that  I  might  learn  from  her 
lips  the  true  state  of  her  heart;  but  the 
slightest  allusion  to  my  friend,  always  pro- 
duced such  visible,  painful  embarrassment, 
that  I  instantly  absnioned  the  idea,  and 
adroitly  changed  the  conversation  to  some- 
thing as  foreign  as  possible.  Of  one 
thing  I  became  satisfied;  and  that  was, 
that  the  sooner  we  took  our  departure,  the 
better  it  would  be  for  all  parties;  for  both 
Prairie  Flower  and  Huntly  were  becoming 
touched  with  a  melancholy  that  I  feared 
might  lead  to  something  more  serious. 

Accordingly,  as  soon  as  I  fancied  my 
strength  sufficient  to  encounter  the  fa- 
tigue of  a  perilous  journey,  I  announced 
my  intention  to  Huntly,  and  wrung  from 
him.  a  reluctant  consent  to  depart  forth- 
with. My  next  move  was  to  see  Prairie 
Flower,  and  announce  the  same  to  her. 
As  chance  would  have  it,  I  shortly  discov- 
ered her  just  outside  the  village,  taking  a 
stroll  by  herself — a  habit  which  had  now 
become  with  her  of  daily  occurrence. — 
Bidding  my  friend  remain  in  the  village,  I 
hastened  after,  and  presently  overtook  her; 
but  so  deep  was  she  buried  in  meditation, 
that  my  steps,  close  behind,  failed  to  rouse 
her  from  her  revery. 

"  You  seem  lost  in  communion  with  your 
own  thoughts,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,"  I 
said,  in  a  cheerful  tone;  "  and  were  I  bent 
on  surprising  you,  I  might  have  done  so  to 
good  advantage." 

She  started,  a  slight  flush  suffused  her 
pale  features,  and  turning  her  lovely  coun- 
tenance upon  me,  with  an  expression  of 
deep  surprise,  she  rallied  herself  for  a  re- 
ply. 

"  Really,  I  must  crave  pardon,  Mr. 
Leighton — but  I  was  so  engaged  reflect- 
ing on — a — various  matters,  that  I  failed 
to  catch  the  sound  of  your  footsteps." 

"  I  saw  you  were  deeply  abstracted,  and 

would  not  have  intruded  on  your  privacy, 

only  that  I  have  a  matter  of  some  little 

raoraent  to  communicate." 

"  Indeed!"  she  rejoined,  turning  deadly 


88 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


pale  and  trembling  nervously:  "I  trust 
nothing  has  happened  to — to — any  one !" 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  dear  Prai- 
rie Flower.  I  have  only  come  to  thank 
you,  and  through  you  your  friends,  for  the 
kindness  and  unbounded  hospitality  of  all 
to  myself  and  Huntly,  and  inform  you  that 
we  are  on  the  point  of  taking  our  depar- 
ture." 

For  a  moment  after  I  spoke,  Prairie 
Flower  stood  staring  upon  me  with  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  anguish,  her  breast 
heaving  tumultuously,  and  apparently  with- 
out the  power  to  utter  a  syllable  in  reply. 
At  length,  placing  her  hand  to  her  throat, 
as  if  she  felt  a  choking  sensation,  she  fair- 
ly gasped  forth: 

"  Not— not— going— surely!" 

"  I  fear  we  must,  dear  Prairie  Flower," 
I  answered  sadly— for  I  felt  touched  to  the 
very  soul  at  this  unusual  display  of  feeling 
and  sorrowful  regret  at  our  departure- 
coming  too  from  one  to  whom  both  Hunt- 
ly and  I  were  under  such  deep  obligations 
for  the  preservation  of  our  lives,  and  the 
many  kindnesses  we  had  received.  "  We 
have  intruded  upon  your  hospitality  too 
long  already,"  I  continued, "  and  have  at 
'-•rast  decided  to  depart  immediately." 

"But — but — your  wounds!" 

"Are  nearly  healed." 

'•  And  your— your — strength!" 

"  Sufficient  for  the  journey,  I  think." 

"And  whither  go  you!" 

"  Over  the  mountains— to  Oregon,  or 
California,  as  the  case  may  be." 

«  But  have  you  considered  the  dangers!" 

"  Every  thing." 

"  But  the  Indians  may  be  in  your  path!" 

«'  We  must  take  our  chance,  then,  as  be- 
fore. We  have  decided  on  taking  a  new 
route,however,and  consequently  will  avoid 
all  ambuscades." 

"  Still  there  are  ten  thousand  dangers 
on  a  new  route.  You  may  get  lost,  get 
buried  in  the  snows  of  the  mountains,  fall 
over  some  precipice— or,  escaping  all  these, 
get  captured  by  some  roving  tribe  and  put 
to  the  tortures." 

"  There  are  many  dangers,  sweet  Prai- 
rie Flower,  as  you  say;  but  had  we  feared 
to  encounter  them,  we  should  never  have 
been  here." 


"  But  you  have  no  horses." 

"  We  can  purchase  them  at  Fort  Lara- 
mie, together  with  what  other  things  we 
may  need. " 

"  You  have  no  companions!" 

"  We  may  find  some  there,  also — if  not, 
we  can  venture  alone." 

"  But— but .     You  will  go,  then!" 

"  I  fear  we  must — loth  as  we  are  to  part 
from  you  and  your  people,  with  whom  (I 
wish  not  to  flatter  when  T  say  it)  some  of 
the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been 
spent." 

For  some  time  Prairie  Flower  did  not 
reply,  during  which  lier  eyes  were  cast 
upon  the  ground,  and  a  look  of  deep  sorrow 
settled  over  her  lovely  features,  and  her 
bosom  heaved  with  internal  emotions. — 
Raising  her  soft,  dark  eyes  again  to  mine, 
I  was  pained  to  behold  them  slightly  dim- 
med with  tears,  which  she  had  striven  in 
vain  to  repress. 

"  I  did  not  think,"  she  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "  that  you  would  leave  us  so  soon." 

"Soon!  dear  Prairie  Flower!  God  bless 
your  noble  soul!  Soon,  say  you!  Why 
have  we  not  been  here  two  long  months 
and  more!" 

"  True,"  she  answered,  as  I  fancied  a 
little  reproachfully,  "  I  had  forgotten  that 
the  time  must  have  seemed  long  to  you." 

"  Nay,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  I  meant 
not  that.  You  are  too  sensitive — you  mis- 
construe me.  I  only  meant,  it  was  long 
for  utter  strangers  to  share  your  hospitali- 
ty, and  trouble  you  with  their  presence." 

"  You  would  not  trouble  us  if  you  staid 
forever,"  she  rejoined,  with  an  air  of  such 
sweet  simplicity,  that  in  spite  of  all  my 
assumed  stoicism,  I  felt  a  tear  trembling 
in  my  eye. 

Prairie  Flower  saw  it,  and  quickly  add- 
ed, with  an  earnest,  tender  expression, 
which  could  only  be  realized  by  being 
seen: 

"  0,sir!  I  fear  I  have  wounded  your  feel- 
ings!" 

No  wonder  Huntly  was  in  love,  if  he 
had  ever  seen  any  thing  like  this — for  with 
all  my  philosophy  and  sober  reasoning,  I 
felt  myself  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  his 
rival. 

"  God  bless  you,  Prairie  Flower!"  I  ex- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


89 


claimed  from  my  very  heart.  "  If  Heaven 
holds  many  like  you,  no  wonder  it  is  a  para- 
dise beyond  mortal  conception." 

"  O,  do  not  com.pare  me  with  those  who 
dwell  in  that  bright  realm,"  she  quickly 
rejoined;  "  for  I  at  best  am  only  a  poor 
sinful  mortal." 

"  Then  God  help  me!"  I  ejaculated,  "  if 
you  are  considered  a  sinner." 

"  But  your — your — friend]"  she  said, 
hesitatingly.  "  Is — he — anxious  to  leave 
usi" 

She  strove  to  assume  an  indifference  as 
she  said  this,  but  the  effort  to  do  so  only 
the  more  exposed  her  feelings,  of  which 
becoming  aware,  she  blushed  deeply,  and 
on  the  conclusion  hung  her  head  in  real 
embarrassment. 

"  Nj,  dear  Prairie  Flower,"  I  said,  ap- 
pearing not  to  notice  her  confusion;  "  my 
friend  is  not  anxious  to  leave;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  with  much  difficulty  I  could 
convince  him  of  the  necessity  of  our  im- 
mediate departure,  and  gain  his  consent  to 
set  forth." 

"  And  wherefore,  do  you  think,  is  he  loth 
to  go!"  she  asked,  carelessly  turning  her 
head  aside,  and  stoopiner  to  pick  a  beauti- 
ful flower  that  was  growing  at  her  feet. 

"  Because  sweet  Prairie  Flower  goes 
not  with  him,"  I  answered,  rather  abrupt- 
ly, curiouri  to  see  what  effect  such  infor- 
mation would  produce. 

The  next  moment  I  regretted  I  had  not 
hintedj  rather  than  spoken,  this  important 
truth.  As  I  pronounced  the  sentence,  the 
hand  of  Prairie  Flower,  which  already 
clasped  the  stem  of  the  flower  in  the  act 
of  breaking  it,  became  violently  agitated 
and  relaxed  its  hold,  while  its  owner, rais- 
ing her  face,  as  pale  as  death,  staggered 
back,  and,  but  for  my  support,  would  have 
fallen  to  the  ground. 

"  Good  Heavens!  Prairie  Flower," I  ex- 
claimed, throwing  an  arm  around  her  slen- 
der waist,  and  feigning  ignorance  of  the 
cause  of  her  agitation;  "  what  has  happen- 
ed! Are  you  bit,  or  stung"?  Speak!  quick! 
tell  me!" 

"  A-a-Iittle  weakness — a-a-suddea  weak- 
ness— a-a-kind  of  faintness,"  she  stam- 
mered, endeavoring  to  recover  her  compo- 
svire,  and  evidently  relieved  that  I  had  not 

7 


imputed  her  agitation  to  the  right  cause. 
"  I  dont  know  that  I  ever  was  so  effected 
before,"  she  continued,  smiling  faintly. 
"  But  I  think  it  will  soon  pass  away.  I 
feel  much  relieved  now.  There,  there — 
thank  you!  that  will  do.  Quite  sudden, 
was  it  not]" 

"Quite,  indeed!"  I  replied,  adding  men- 
tally, "  Poor,  poor  girl!  how  I  pity  thee! — 
th}  peace  of  mind  has  gone  forever." 

"  But  you  spoke  of  leaving  immediate- 
ly," she  answered.  "  What  day  have  you 
set  for  your  departure]" 

"  This." 

"  Not  to-day,  surely!"  she  exclaimed,  ia 
surprise. 

"  So  had  we  determined." 

"  But  you  must  not  go  to-day!" 

"  And  why  not]" 

"  O,  it  is  not  right  to  leave  us  so  abrupt- 
ly; and  besides,  I  have  reasons  for  wish- 
ing you  to  delay  three  days  at  least." 

"  What  reasons]" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  now;  but  remain  and 
you  shall  know." 

"  Any  thing  to  please  you,  sweet  Prai- 
rie Flower." 

"  Then  I  have  your  promise]" 

"You  have." 

"  Thank  you!  thank  you! — you  will  not 
regret  it.  But  come,  let  ua  return  to  the 
village,  for  I  see  the  sun  is  three  good 
hours  above  the  hills,  and  I  have  a  long 
journey  before  me." 

"  What!  are  you  going  to  leave,  then'" 

"I  must!  I  have  important  business. 
But  ask  me  no  questions,  and  do  not  de- 
part till  I  return." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Prairie  Flower, 
mounted  on  her  beautiful  Indian  pony,  as 
I  had  first  beheld  her  at  Fort  Laramie, 
rode  swiftly  out  of  the  village,  unattended, 
and  disappeared  down  the  mountain. 


»0 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


CHAPTER  XX.  ,  dicine   not  excepted,   who   enlarged    his 

|pmnll,dark  eyes  to  their  utmost  tension, 
rRAiRiE  FLOWER  STILL  ABSENT — RESOLVE  1  but  merely  granted  a  farewell — and  thank- 
To  DEPART — BID  OUR  FRIENDS  ADIEU —  e.l  oach  and  all  heartily  for  their  hospitality 
SET  FORWARD  WITH  OUR  GUIDE — UNEX-  and  kindness  to  US  as  Strangers,  wc  prepar- 
PECTED  MEETING  WITH  PRAIRIE  FLOWER  |  ed  to  Set  out  at  ODce  fof  Fort  Laramic.  As 
— RETURN  TO  THE  VILLAGE — A  SPLENDID j  the  direct  route  was  unknown  to  us,  we 


PRESENT — OUR  ROUTE  CHANGED SECOND 

ADIEU PRAIRIE  FLOWER  AS  GUIDE OUR 

LAST  PAINFUL  PARTING  WITH  OUR  SWEET 
BENEFACTRESS. 

Three  days  dragged  on  wearily — for 
without  Prairie  Flower,  the  Indian  village 
•eemed  gloomy  and  insipid  both  to  Huntly 
and  myself — and  the  fourth  morning  had 
eorae,  and  yet  our  fair  benefactress  had  not 
made  her  appearance.  Where  had  she  gone, 
and  wherefore  did  she  not  return?  We  ques- 
tioned several  of  the  villagers,  but  all  shook 
their  heads  and  replied,  some  in  good  and 
•ome  in  broken  English,  that  they  did  not 
know,  that  she  was  frequently  absent  a 
month  at  a  time,  and  that  she  rarely  told  on 
leaving  where  she  was  going  or  when  she 
would  return.  Perhaps,  then,  her  journey 
was  merely  a  ruse  to  avoid  a  farewell  scene, 
thinking  we  should  depart  in  her  absence; 
and  this  I  mentioned  to  Huntly,  whose 
•urmises  I  found  corresponded  with  mine. 

"  She  has  done  it,"  he  said,  somewhat 
bitterly,  "  to  put  a  slight  upon  us,  or  rather 
upon  me,  whose  presence  lately  seems 
most  offensive  to  her;  and  for  myself,  I 
am  going  to  leave — you  can  do  as  you 
like." 

In  this  I  knew  my  friend  was  wrong  al- 
together, but  did  not  contradict  him — for 
under  the  circumstances,  I  preferred  he 
•hould  think  as  he  did,  rather  than  be  made 
aware  of  what,  as  I  imagined,  was  the 
true  cause  of  her  actions.  I  therefore  re- 
plied: 

"  Let,  us  away,  then,  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble." 

"  Agreed." 

Upon  this  we  hastened  to  bid  our  Indian 
friends  a  long  adieu,  who  seemed  greatly 
•urpriscd  and  expressed  astonishment  that 
we  should  leave  so  suddenly,  without  hav- 
ing i;iven  them  a  previous  notice.  Hav- 
ing g  me  the  entire  rounds,  shook  the  dusky 
hju'ls  of  each,  young  and  old — Great  Me 


inquired  the  way  particularljs  whereupon 
a  stout,  rather  good-looking,  intelligent 
Indian  youth  volunteered  his  services  to 
act  as  guide — a  proposition  which  we  read- 
ily and  gratefully  accepted,  with  a  promis- 
ed reward  when  we  should  arrive  safely  at 
our  destination. 

It  was  a  bright,  clear,  frosty  morning, 
and  the  sun,  just  rising  above  the  moun- 
tains, poured  down  his  radiant  light,  glad- 
dening the  forest  and  our  hearts  with  his 
presence;  and  this,  together  with  the  bra- 
cing air,  the  freedom  we  fancied  we  were 
about  to  experience  after  our  long  confine- 
ment, in  being  once  more  upon  our  journey 
in  good  health,  produced  feelings  of  buoy- 
ancy and  independence,  such  as  we  had 
not  known  for  many  a  long  day. 

Our  guide  had  left  us,  as  he  said,  to 
make  preparations  for  our  journey,  and  we 
were  already  becoming  impatient  at  w^at 
we  considered  his  tardiness,  when  to  our 
surprise  he  reappeared,  mounted  on  one 
and  leading  two  horses,  which  he  signifi- 
cantly intimated  were  at  our  service.  This 
was  a  kindness  we  could  fully  appreciate, 
and  of  course  felt  no  desire  to  chide  him 
for  his  delay.  Thanking  him  in  unmea- 
sured terms  for  his  happy  foresight  in  thus 
insuring  us  speed,  and  safety  against  fa- 
tigue, we  vaulted  into  the  saddles  with  as 
much  agility  as  if  we  had  never  known  a 
mishap. 

Waving  a  silent  adieu  to  the  villagers, 
who  came  forth  iij  a  body  to  see  us  depart, 
we  turned  our  horses'  heads  down  the  hill, 
and  setting  forward,  soon  reached  the  val- 
ley, crossed  the  stream,  and  burying  our- 
selves in  the  forest,  shut  the  Indian  village 
completely  from  our  view. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly,  gay- 
ly,  as  with  a  spirited  gallop  we  buried 
ourselves  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  forest 
of  the  valley,  "  this  seems  like  old  times —  . 
eh!  my  dear  fellow"!" 

"  It  does,  indeed!"  I  replied  in  the  »ame 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


91 


joyous  manner,  as  I  felt  tlie  warm  blood  of 
active  excitement  again  coursing  through 
all  my  veins. 

Scarcely  had  the  words  passed  my  lips, 
when  our  guide,  who  was  riding  in  ad- 
vance, suddenly  drew  rein,  brought  his 
horse  to  a  halt,  and  exclaimed; 

"  She  comes!" 

Ere  we  had  time  to  inquire  who,  we  be- 
held, much  to  our  surprise,  tlie  beautiful 
Prairie  Flower  dashing  up  the  valley  we 
were  descending,  directly  ia  our  front.  Of 
course  there  was  no  means  of  avoiding 
her,  had  we  designed  doing  eo,  and  ac- 
cordingly we  rode  slowly  forward  to  meet 
her.  As  we  advanced,  I  could  perceive 
that  her  pale  features  looked  unusually 
care-worn,  and  that  her  lips  were  com- 
pressed, as  by  some  inward  struggle  to  ap- 
pear entirely  at  her  ease.  As  we  met,  she 
said,  half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  while 
a  slight  flush  tinted  her  cheeks  and  made 
her  sweet  coutenance  look  lovely  beyond 
description: 

"  Good  morning,  my  friends.  Not  run- 
ning away,  surelyl" 

"  Why,"  I  answered,  in  some  confusion, 
"  we  have  bidden  our  friends  of  the  village 
a  last  adieu,  and  are,  as  you  see,  already 
on  our  journey." 

"Indeed!  you  surprise  me!  And  could 
you  not  have  deferred  your  departure  till 
my  return?" 

"Why,  the  fact  is — we — that  is  I — we 
waited  three  days^-the  time  mentioned  by 
you — and  as  we  thought — that — as  you  had 
not  made  your  appearance — that " 

"  I  would  not  return  at  all,"  she  rejoin- 
ed, completing  the  sentence  which  my  em- 
barrassment forced  me  to  leave  unfinished. 
"  I  truly  grieve,  my  friends,"  she  continu- 
ed, with  a  look  of  sorrowful  reproach, 
"  that,  having  known  me  so  long,  you 
should  be  led  to  doubt  my  word.  Did  I 
ever  deceive  you,  that  you  thought  I  might 
again?" 

"  Never!  never!"  cried  both  Hunfiy  and 
I  in  the  same  breath,  while  the  conscience 
of  each  accused  him  of  having  done 
wrong.  "Bat  as  the  three  days  had  ex- 
pired," I  added,^  by  way  of  justification, 
"  and  as  noneof  the  villagers  knew  whither 
you  had  gone,  we  feared  to  tarry  longer, 


lest  the  coming  storms  of  winter  should 
catch  us  on  the  mountains." 

"  Perhaps,  then,  you  were  right  after 
all,"  she  said  with  a  sigh.  "True,  I  did 
not  return  so  soon  as  I  expected,  on  ac- 
count of  an  unforseen  delay;  and  though  I 
did  request  you  not  to  depart  till  1  came 
back,  and  though  I  fondly  relied  on  seeing 
you  again,  still  I  must  admit  that  your  pro- 
mise has  been  faithfully  kept,  and  that  you 
had  a  perfect  right  to  go,  and  I  none  to 
think  you  would  stay  to  your  own  incon-. 
venience." 

This  was  said  in  a  tone  so  sad,  with 
such  modest  simplicity,  that,  knowing  the 
true  state  of  her  heart,  and  remembering 
that  to  her  generous  nature  and  untiring 
watchfulness  and  care  we  both  owed  our 
lives,  every  word  sunk  like  burning  lava 
into  my  heart,  and  I  felt  condemned  be- 
yond the  power  of  self-defence.  For  a 
moment  I  knew  not  what  nor  how  to  re- 
ply, while  Prairie  Flower  dropped  her  eyes 
to  the  ground  and  seemed  hurt  to  the 
very  soul. 

"  Forgive  us,  sweet  Prairie  Flower!"  I 
at  length  exclaimed,  to  the  promptings  of 
my  better  nature.  "  Forgive  us  both,  for 
having  done  you  wrong!  I  cannot  exone- 
rate myself,  whatever  my  friend  may  do. 
I  had  no  right  to  doubt  you — no  right  to 
wound  your  feelings  by  leaving  in  a  man- 
ner so  cold,  so  contrary  to  the  dictates  of 
friendship  and  gratitude.  But  still,  dear 
Prairie  Flower,  if  you  knew  all  my  mo- 
tives, you  would,  perhaps,  blame  me  less." 

She  looked  up  at  the  last  words,  caught 
the  expression  of  my  eye,  and  seemed  to 
comprehend  my  meaning  at  a  glance;  for 
she  colored  deeply,  turned  aside  her  head, 
and  quickly  answered: 

"  I  do  not  blame  you.  Let  it  pass.  But 
whither  were  you  bound?" 

"  To  Fort  Laramie." 

"  I  trust,  then,  I  have  saved  you  that 
journey." 

"  Indeed!"  I  exclaimed  in  surprise,  as  a 
new  idea  suddenly  flashed  across  my  mind. 
"  You  have  been  there,  then?" 

"  I  have." 

"  And  all  or  us?" 

"But  for  you,  I  do  not  thick  I  should 
have  gone  at  present." 


02 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


"  God  bless  your  noble,  generous  soul!" 
[  cried,  feeling  more  condemned  than  ever. 
■•  How  fortunate  that  we  have  met  you, 
that  we  can  at  least  make  the  slight  repa- 
ration of  apology  and  regret  for  having 
misconstrued  your  motives!  What  must 
have  been  your  feelings,  had  you  returned, 
your  heart  bounding  with  delight  at  hav- 
ing done  us  a  service,  and  found  we  had 
repaid  you  by  leaving  in  your  absence, 
without  even  so  much  as  thanks  for  your 
kindness!" 

"  I  should  have  felt  hurt  and  grieved  I 
must  own,"  she  answered,  quietl)^ 

"  It  is  my  fault,  Prairie  Flower,"  said 
Pluntly,  riding  up  to  her  side.  "  Blame 
me  for  all,  and  not  my  friend!  To  speak 
plainly,  I  fancied  my  presence  was  hateful 

.'  you,  and  that  you  had  gone  away,  mere- 
ly to  put  a  slight  upon  me,  by  avoiding 
even  to  the  last,  as  you  had  avoided  me  all 
along." 

"You — you  think  this]"  cried  Prairie 
Flower,  turning  upon  him  a  look  of  an- 
guish I  shall  never  forget,  and  becoming 
so  agitated  she  could  scarcely  sit  her 
horse.  "  You  think  this]  O,  no,  no,  no! 
you  did  not,  could  not,  think  I  intended  to 
insult  you!"  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  shook  violently. 

"Great  Heaven!  what  have  I  done!" 
cried  Huntly  in  alarm.  "  Look  up,  sweet 
Prairie  Flower — lock  up  and  forgive  me! 
If  I  thought  so  then,  I  do  not  think  so 
now,  and  God  pardon  me  for  harboring 
such  a  thought  at  all!  But  I  could|not  un- 
derstand why  yon  avoided  me,  unless  it 
was  through  dislike — in  which  case  my 
absence  would  be  little  likely  to  cause  a 
regret.  I  see  my  mistake  now,  and  am 
satisfied  that,  whatever  your  motive  might 
have  been,  it  was  one  which  you  at  least 
felt  to  be  right  and  pure." 

"  Indeed  it  was!"  returned  Prairie  Flow- 
er, raising  her  sweet,  sad  face,  and  her 
*oft,  dark  eyes  to  his,  and  then  modestly 
dropping  her  gaze  to  the  ground. 

Huntly  seemed  about  to  reply,  but  paus- 
ed and  gazed  silently  upon  Prairie  Flower, 
who,  again  raising  her  eyes,  and  meeting 
a  peculiar  glance  from  him,  blushed  and 
turned  her  head  quickly  av/ay.  It  was 
evident  that  both  were  getting  embarrass- 


ed, and  I  hastened  to  relieve  them  by  say- 
ing: 

"And  what  news  from  Fort  Laramie, 
Prairie  Flower!     What  of  our  friendsl" 

"  I  could  learn  nothing  definite,  save 
that  eight  only,  of  the  sixteen  with  whom 
you  went  intobattle,  returned,  and  that  the 
rest,  including  yourselves,  were  supposed 
to  have  been  killed  or  taken  prisoners. 
One  of  the  former,  I  think  they  called  him 
an  Irishman,  made  great  lamentations  over 
you,  declaring  that  the  Indians  or  wild 
beasts  had  destroyed  you." 

"  Poor  Teddy!"  I  sighed;  "  he  did  indeed 
love  us.     But  what  became  of  himl" 

"  He  left  a  few  days  after,  with  a  party 
of  trappers." 

"  Then  it  may  be  a  long  time  before  we 
meet  again,  if  ever.  But  do  you  think  we 
can  procure  a  regular  outfit  at  the  fort?" 

"  What  do  you  require?" 

"  Two  good  horses,  a  brace  of  rifles, 
plenty  of  ammunition,  and  three  or  four 
buffalo  skins.  By  the  way,  this  reminds 
me  that  we  left  our  possibles  at  the  fort, 
stufl^ed  with  clothes,  which  will  now  be  of 
valuable  service." 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  village,"  rejoin- 
ed Prairie  Flower,  "  and  we  will  talk  the 
matter  over." 

"  Why,  as  we  are  so  far  on  the  way,  it 
will  only  cause  us  unnecessary  delay;  be- 
sides, we  have  spoken  our  farewells  to  all, 
and  turning  back,  when  once  started  on  a 
journey,  is  said  to  give  bad  luck." 

"  Yet  I  have  but  one  observation  to 
make  to  all  your  objections,"  returned 
Prairie  Flower,  peremptorily;  "and  that 
is,  you  mvst  come  with  me." 

"  If  you  insist  on  it,  certainly." 

"  I  do." 

On  this  we  turned,  without  more  ado, 
and  took  our  way  back,  wondering  what 
new  mystery  or  surprise  would  greet  \ie 
next.  The  Indians  appeared  more  rejoiced 
than  astonished  at  seeing  us  again,  and 
crowded  around  us,  and  shook  our  hande, 
with  as  much  apparent  delight  aa  if  we 
had  been  absent  a  month. 

'•'  What  is  the  utmost  limit  of  your  stay 
with  us,  my  friends?"  inquiried  Prairie 
Flower. 

"  An  hour  is  the  extreme,"  I  replied. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


93 


Upon  this  she  turned  and  addressed  a 
few  words  to  the  young  Indian  who  had 
vohjnteered  to  act  as  our  guide,  and  then 
bidding  us  dismount  and  follow  her,  she 
led  the  way  into  the  lodge  of  Great  Me- 
dicine. Making  some  excuse,  she  went 
out,  and  shortly  returned,  bringing  with  her 
our  rifles  and  plenty  of  powder  and  ball. 

"  Now  that  you  are  going,"  she  said,  "  I 
will  restore  you  your  arms,  with  a  sincere 
prayer  that,  with  the  aid  of  Heaven,  they 
may  pruve  sufficient  to  preserve  your  lives 
from  your  natural  enemies,  the  savages  and 
wild  beasts." 

Here  was  another  unexpected  kindness, 
and  both  Huntly  and  myself  were  profuse 
in  our  thanks..  Prairie  Flower  then  in- 
quired the  route  we  intended  to  take,  and 
being  ansvered  that  this  would  depend 
much  upon  circumstances,  she  advised  us 
to  cross  the  Black  Hills  some  ten  miles 
south  of  our  present  location,  and  hold  our 
course  westward  over  Laramie  Plains,  Me- 
dicine Bow  Mountains,  and  the  North 
Fork  of  Platte,  to  Brown's  Hole  on  Green 
River,  where  doubtless  we  should  find  many 
trappers,  and  perhaps  some  of  our  old  ac- 
quaintances— giving  as  a  reason  for  direct- 
ing us  thus,  that  there  would  be  less  dan- 
ger from  the  Indians,  who,  notwithstand- 
ing our  signal  victory  at  Bitter  Cottonwood, 
still  continued  in  parties  along  the  regular 
Oregon  route,  killing  the  whites,  whenever 
they  could  do  so  without  too  much  risk  to 
themselves. 

Thanking  Prairie  Flower  for  her  advice, 
I  replied  that,  having  reached  Fort  La- 
ramie, it  would  be  doubtful  if  we  returned 
this  way — that  in  all  probability  we 
should  join  some  party  of  emigrants — or, 
failing  in  this,  take  a  middle  course  and 
run  our  risks. 

"  But  I  see  no  necessity  of  your  going 
to  Fort  Laramie,"  she  rejoined. 

"  You  forget,  Prairie  Flower,  that  we 
have  no  horses,  and  it  would  be  foolish  at 
least  to  attempt  such  a  journey  on  foot." 

To  this  she  made  no  direct  reply,  but 
went  on  suggesting  various  things  for  our 
convenience  and  safety,  with  as  much  ap- 
parent concern  for  our  welfare,  as  if  her 
own  life  and  fortunes  were  bound  up  in 
ours. 


At  length  the  conversation  slacked,  and 
thinking  it  a  good  opportunity,  I  declared 
that  our  time  had  expired,  and  that  we  must 
start  forthwith. 

'•  Well,  I  will  not  detain  you  longer," 
replied  Prairie  Flower,  leading  the  way  out 
of  the  cabin. 

To  our  surprise,  we  found  at  the  door 
two  beautiful  steeds,  (not  the  ones  we  had 
just  ridden,)  richly  adorned  with  Spanish 
saddles,  bridles  and  apishamores,*  with 
tv/o  sacks  of  jerked  meat  hanging  to  the 
horns,  and  four  large  buffalo  skins  strap- 
ped on  behind,  while  along  side  stood  the 
handsome  pony  of  our  fair  benefactress, 
each  and  all  ready  for  a  start. 

"  What  mean  these"?"  I  inquired,  turning 
to  Prairie  Flower. 

"  Simply,"  she  answered,  with  the  ut- 
most naivete,  "  that  you  must  accept  from 
me  these  horses  and  trappings,  without  a 
word,  and  allow  me  to  be  your  guide  to  the 
point  where  you  will  turn  ofl"  to  cross  the 
mountains." 

"  But,  Prairie  Flower " 

"  Not  a  word — not  a  single  word — such 
are  the  conditions." 

"But  we  have  money,  and " 

"  Surely  you  would  not  insult  me,"  she 
interrupted,  "  by  offering  to  "payV 

I  saw  by  her  manner  that  to  say  more 
would  only  be  to  offend,  __  and  seizing 
her  hand,  I  pressed  it,  with  a  hearty  "God 
bless  youl"  while  my  eyes,  in  spite  of  me, 
became  dimmed  with  tears.  Huntly  was 
too  deeply  affected  to  speak  at  all,  and 
therefore  only  pressed  her  handm  silence, 
during  which  the  features  of  Prairie  Flow- 
er grew  very  pale,  and  she  was  forced  to 
turn  aside  her  head  to  conceal  her  emo- 
tion. We  now  comprehended  all — why 
she  had  gone  to  Fort  Laramie,  and  had  in- 
sisted on  our  return  with  her  to  the  vil- 
lage— and  as  we  recalled  her  former  kind- 
ness and  generosity,  and  our  own  base  sus- 
picions of  her  intention  to  slight  us,  the 
result  was  to  make  both  Huntly  and  my- 
self very  sad.  She  had  her  revenge,  we 
felt,  and  a  noble  one  it  was  too. 

Mounting  our  horses,  we  again    bade  a 


soft. 


Saddle  blankets  of  buffalo  calf-skin,  dressed 


94 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


silent  adieu  to  the  Mysterious  Tribe,  and  in 
company  with  Prairie  Flower,  quitted  the 
village  the  second  time,  with  more  regret 
than  thelirst,  and  took  ourway  soutiiward, 
in  a^  direction  almost  opposite  our  previ- 
ous one. 

As  we  rode  on,  I  noticed  that  our  fair  guide 
became  exceedingly  abstracted,  and  when 
■•he  fancied  herself  unobserved,  that  she 
frequently  sighed.  Poor  girl!  she  was  la- 
boring to  suppress  feelings,  which,  like 
the  pent  up  fires  of  a  volcano,  were  pre- 
paring to  rend  the  tenement  which  con- 
fined them;  and  the  very  thought  clouded 
my  path  with  melancholly.  Huntly,  too, 
was  abstracted  and  silent,  so  that  little 
was  said  on  the  way;  and  though  every 
thing  above,  around  and  beneath,  seemed 
conspiring  to  make  us  cheerful,  yet  our 
thoughts  only  rendered  our  hearts  the  more 
gloomy  by  contrast. 

A  ride  of  less  than  three  hours  brought 
us  to  a  spot  of  the  mountain  that  seemed 
of  easy  ascent,  when  Prairie  Flower  drew 
in  rein,  and  said  with  a  sigh: 

"  Your  route  lies  yonder.  Keep  a  little 
to  the  south  of  west,  and  avoid  travelling 
after  dark,  or  you  may  plunge  over  some 
precipice  and  be  dashed  to  pieces." 

Huntly  now  appeared  too  agitated  to  re- 
ply, and  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  my- 
self summon  words  to  my  aid. 

"  And  so,  dear  Prairie  Flower,"  I  at 
length  articulated,  "  we  are  to  part 
here!" 

"  I  fear  we  must." 

"  Shall  we  ever  meet  again!" 

"God  only  knows,"  she  answered,  trem- 
bling nervously,  and  dropping  her  eyes  to 
the  ground. 

"  To  attempt  to  express  our  gratitude 
to  you,"  I  rejoined,  "would  be  worse  than 
vain;  words  could  not  speak  it;  the  heart 
alone  can,  and  that  you  cannot  see, 
only  through  external  expressions.  Of 
one  thing,  fair  being,  rest  assurred:  that 
in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  souls  of 
Francis  Leighton  and  Charles  Huntly,  is 
engraved  a  name  that  will  never  be  eras- 
ed— that  of  the  noble  and  generous  Prai- 
rie Flower." 

"  Say  no  more — I — I — beg  of  you!"  she 
gasped, waving  her  hand,  and  then  placing 


it  to  her  heart,  as  if  to  still  its  wild  throb- 
bings. 

"  Prairie  Flower,"  said  Huntly,  in  a 
tremulous  voice,  "if  I  part  without  a  word, 
you  may  think  me  ungrateful.     It  is  not 

so.     Do  not  think  so.     I Could  you 

know  this  heart " 

"No  more — no  more!"  cried  the  other. 
"  I  see — I  know — I  understand  all.     Too 

much — too   much.      Go!  go!      I G^, 

and  God's  blessing  attend  you  both!  I 
— — " 

She  paused,  and  grasped  the  mane  of 
her  beast  to  save  herself  from  falling. 

"  Then  farewell,"  rejoined  Huntly,  riding 
up  to  her  side  and  extending  his  hand. 
"  You  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me;  and 
should  we  meet  not  again — then — fare- 
well— for-ever." 

Prairie  Flower  clasped  his  hand,  but  her 
own  trembled  violently,  and  her  lips  re- 
fused a  reply.  The  next  moment,  fearing 
doubtless  the  effect  of  a  longer  trial  of  her 
feelinos  and  nerves,  she  turned  her  pony, 
and  signing  me  an  adieu  with  her  hand, 
dashed  rapidly  away,  and  in  two  minutes 
disappeared  from  our  view  in  the  deep  for- 
est. 

Huntly  sighed,  but  made  no  remark, and 
silently  and  slowly  we  began  our  ascent 
of  the  mountain. 

That  night  we  slept  on  the  brow  of  the 
Black  Hills,  at  a  point  overlooking  a  large 
extent  of  the  Laramie  Plains, 


CHAPTER  XXr. 

IN  SIGHT  OF  brown's  HOLE A  DASH  DOWH 

THE  MOUNTAIN — APPEARANCE  OF  THE 
PLACE — THE  OLD  TRAPPER — DISAPPOINT- 
MENT  EXORBITANT  PRICES A  GAMBLING 

QUARREL — A  MOUNTAINEER  DUEL — HOR- 
RIBLE RESULT. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  not  far  from 
the  middle  of  September,  that,  ascending 
a  hill  at  the  base  of  which  we  had  en- 
camped the  night  previous,  we  overlooked 
a  charming  green  valley,  completely  shut 
in  by  hills,  through  the  very  center  of 
which,  like  a  long  line  of  molten  silver, 
we  beheld  a  brijrht  stream  takinar  its  de- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


96 


vious  course.  Not  the  least  agreeable  and 
enchanting  to  us,  was  the  sight  of  a  few 
shanties,  erected  along  the  margin  of  the 
river,  and  the  moving  to  and  fro  of  sever- 
al white  human  beings.  And  not  the  less 
pleasant  the  sight,  that  we  had  been  some 
two  weeks  on  a  fatiguing  journey  of  more 
than  two  hundred  miles,  over  mountains, 
plains,  and  rivers,  without  having  seen  a 
solitary  individual  but  ourselves. 

The  valley  we  now  beheld  was  the  point 
of  our  present  destination,  a  rendezvous 
for  the  trappers,  hunters  and  traders  of 
this  part  of  the  country,  and  known  as 
Brown's  Hole.  I  have  not  described  our 
journey  hither,  after  parting  with  Prairie 
Flower,  as  but  little  of  interest  to  the  gen- 
eral reader  occurred  on  the  route,  beyond 
fatigue  of  travel,  an  occasional  escape 
from  a  fatal  plunge  over  some  precipice, 
and  one  violent  storm  on  the  Medicine 
Bow,  which  proved  far  more  disagreeable 
than  dangerous. 

Here,  then,  we  were  at  last,  in  full  view 
of  what  seemed  to  us  a  paradise;  and  a 
simultaneous  shout  of  delight,  not  only 
told  our  feelings,  but  that  our  lungs  were 
still  in  good  order. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly,with 
great  animation,  "  we  are  now  in  a  fair 
way  of  coming  in  contact  with  somebody 
besides  Indians,  and  so  let  us  down  the 
mountain  with  all  the  haste  possible." 

"  Here  goes,  then,  for  a  race,"  I  cried; 
and  urging  my  noble  animal  forward,  I 
dashed  down  the  declivity,  to  the  immi- 
nent danger  of  myself  and  horse,  followed 
by  Huntly  in  the  same  reckless  manner, 
both  shouting  and  wild  with  excitement. 

Reaching  the  base  of  the  mountain,  we 
galloped  swifcly  over  the  valley ,  and  brought 
up  at  last  in  the  center  of  the  encamp- 
ment, where  curiosity  soon  surrounded  us 
with  a  medley  of  various  nations  and  com- 
plexions, all  eager  to  learn  who  we  were 
and  what  our  business.  Here  we  beheld 
Indians  of  different  tribes,  Spaniards, 
Mexicans,  Englishmen,  Frenchmen,  Cre- 
oles, Canadians,  together  with  Anglo- 
Americans  from  all  parts  of  {he  United 
States.  Some  of  these  were  trappers, 
hunters,  traders,  coureur  des  hois,  and  specu- 
lators in  general — all  congregated  here  to 


carry  on  the  traffic  of  buying  and  selling 
— this  one  to  make  money,  and  that  one  to 
squander  his  hard  earnings  in  gambling 
and  dissipation.  Already  had  the  trade  of 
the  season  opened,  although  the  greater 
part  of  the  trappers  were  not  yet  "  in" 
from  the  mountains  with  their  furs,  pelte 
and  robes. 

Outside  the  shanties,  of  which  there 
were  some  half  a  dozen — belonging,  the 
principal  one  to  the  agent  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  and  the  others  to  different 
traders — were  built  fires,  around  which 
groups  of  bronzed  mountaineers  were 
squatted,  lost  to  all  consciousness  of  the 
outer  world,  in  the  exciting  games  of 
"  euchre,"  "  poker,"  "  seven  up,"  &c.,  &c. 
In  one  place  was  meat  in  the  process  of 
jerking,  in  another  skins  stretched  over 
hoops  for  drying,  while  here  and  there  was 
a  rude  block  for  graining,  together  with 
various  other  implements  used  in  the  fur 
trade. 

All  these  I  noted  with  a  hasty  glance 
as  I  drew  in  rein,  and  while  the  medley 
crowd,  before  spoken  of,  was  gathering 
around  os.  I  looked  keenly  at  each  as  he 
came  up,  but  failed  to  recognize  a  single 
face,  much  to  my  disappointment,  as  I  had 
been  rather  sanguine  of  here  finding  some 
of  my  old  acquaintances. 

"  Whar  from]"  asked  a  tall,  dark,  ath- 
letic mountaineer — eyeing  us,  as  I  fancied, 
a  little  suspiciously. 

"  Over  the  mountains,"  I  answered, 

"  Whar's  your  traps  and  beavers!" 

"  We  have  none." 

"  Injins  raise  'em]"  ^ 

"  We  never  carried  any." 

"  Traders,  hey]" 

"No." 

"What  then!" 

"  Adventurers." 

"  That's  a  new  callin,  spose]" 

"  That  is  ours,  at  all  events." 

"  Fine  bosses  you  got  thar." 

"  Very  good,  I  believe." 

"  Going  to  stop?" 

"Think  we  shall." 

"Well,  ground  yourselves,  put  your  boss- 
es to  feed,  and  let's  see  how  you  look." 

Upon  this  we  dismounted,  and  while  do- 
ing so,  Huntly  observed: 


96 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


"  I  say,  friend,  do  you  know  most  of  the 
trappers?" 

"  Know  a  heap — all  I  ever  seed." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  one,  then,  called 
Black  George!" 

"  D'ye  ever  see  your  own  mother,  stran- 
ger J  Didn't  I  use  to  trap  with  him  fifteen 
year  agof — and  hain't  I  fit  him  out  of  many 
a  Injin  snap?  Ef  that  ain't  knowin  him, 
jest  tell  me  what  is." 

"  That  is  knowing  him,  certainly,"  re- 
turned Huntly,  smiling.  "But  have  you 
seen  him  of  late?" 

"  Not  sence  two  year  come  calf  time. 
B'lieve  he  went  over  to  the  States,  or  some 
sich  outlandish  place  or  other." 

"  Then  I  have  seen  him  since  you." 

"  Whar  d'ye  leave  him?"  inquired  the 
other  with  interest. 

"  In  an  Indian  fight,  at  Bitter  Cotton- 
wood." 

"  I'd  swear  it.  When  Injins  is  about 
he's  al'ays  in,  and  a  few  at  that,  or  I'm  no 
snakes.  But  what  become  on  him?  Hope 
he  didn't  go  under!" 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  say,  as  my 
friend  here  and  I  were  carried  off  the  field 
for  dead,  and  have  not  been  able  to  get  the 
particulars  of  the  battle  since." 

"  He  didn't  die,  I'll  bet  my  life  on  that! 
Ef  he  did,  it's  the  fust  time  he  ever  knock- 
ed under  to  sich  varmints." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  you  have  seen  none 
who  were  in  the  fight?" 

"  Never  heard  on't  till  now — so  reckon 
I  havn't." 

"  We  fondly  anticipated  meeting  some 
of  them  here." 

'•  It's  like  you  may  yit;  for  ef  they're 
about  in  this  part  o'  creation,  they're  sure 
to  come.  But  turn  out  them  critters,  for 
they  looks  hungry,  and  make  yourselves 
at  home  here.  And  while  I  thinks  on't, 
ef  you've  got  any  bacca,  I'll  trouble  ye 
for  a  chaw." 

As  I  had  some  of  the  desired  article,  I 
proffered  it,  and  received  his  warmest 
thanks  in  retnrn.  We  now  set  about  re- 
moving our  saddles  and  other  appendages, 
and  hobbling  our  horses,  while  the  crowd, 
liaving  stared  at  us  to  their  satisfaction, 
and  found  nothing  particularly  remarkable 
in  our  persons  or  equipments,  gradually 


sauntered  away,  until  we  were  left  entire 
ly  to  ourselves. 

Brown's  Hole,  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year,  becomes  a  place  of  considerable  note, 
and  presents  many  of  the  features  of  a 
weste-n  settlement  on  a  holiday.  It  was 
interesting  to  us  to  note  the  avariciousness 
of  the  traders,  and  the  careless  indifference 
of  the  trappers,  in  disposing  of  their  com- 
modities. Dropping  in  daily — sometimes 
singly  and  sometimes  in  parties  from  two 
to  ten ,  loaded  with  pelts  and  furs,  in  value 
from  one  hundred  to  several  thousand  dol- 
lars— the  latter  would  barter  them  for  pow- 
der, lead,  tobacco,  alcohol,  coffee,  and 
whatever  else  they  fancied,  receiving  each 
article  at  the  most  exorbitant  price,  with- 
out uttering  a  word  of  complaint.  I  have 
seen  powder  sold  to  the  mountaineers  at 
the  enormous  sum  of  from  three  to  four 
dollars  a  pint;  alcohol  at  double  this  price, 
the  same  measure;  coffee  ditto;  tobacco 
two  and  three  dollars  per  plug,  and  every 
tiling  else  in  proportion.  Money  here  was 
out  of  the  question,  as  much  as  if  it  had 
never  been  in  existence — furs,  pelts  and 
robes  being  substituted  therefor.  Here  I 
witnessed  gambling  on  every  scale,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest — from  thousands 
to  units — while  every  doubtful  or  mooted 
point  was  sure  to  result  in  a  bet  before  de- 
cided. It  was  nothing  uncommon  to  see 
a  trapper  "  come  in"  with  three  or  four 
mules,  and  furs  to  the  amount  of  several 
thousand  dollars,  and  within  a  week  from 
his  arrival,  be  without  the  value  of  a  bau- 
bee  he  could  call  his  own — furs,  mules,  ri- 
fle, every  thing,  sacrificed  to  his  insatiable 
love  of  gambling.  The  mountaineer  over 
his  cups  is  often  quarrelsome,  and  an  an- 
gry dispute  is  almost  certain  to  be  settled 
in  an  honorable  way  (!) — that  is,  rifles  at 
thirty  yards — when  one  or  the  other  (some- 
times both)  rarely  fails  to  pay  the  forfeit 
of  his  life.  I  had  not  been  many  days  in 
Brown's  Hole,  ere  I  witnessed  a  tragedy  of 
this  kind,  which  even  now,  as  I  recall  it, 
makes  my  blood  run  cold  with  horror. 

The  actors  in  this  bloody  scene  were 
two  trappers  of  the  better  class,  of  in- 
telligent and  respectable  appearance,  neith- 
er of  whom  had  seen  over  thirty  years,  and 
who,  as  a  general  thing,  were  of  very  so- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


97    I 


ber  and  quiet  habits.  They  were  from  the 
same  part  of  the  country — had  been  boys 
together — had  started  together  upon  their 
adventurous  and  perilous  occupation,  and 
were,  moreover,  sworn  friends. 

Some  three  days  after  our  arrival,  they 
had  made  their  appearance,  well  packed 
with  pelts  and  furs,  which  they  immediate- 
ly proceeded  to  dispose  of  to  the  traders. 
As  their  trip  had  been  an  unusually  profit- 
able one,  they  of  course  felt  much  elated, 
and  taking  a  drink  together,  sat  down  to  a 
friendly  game  of  cards,  to  while  away  their 
leisure  hours.  More  strict  in  their  habits 
than  most  of  their  associates,  they  rarely 
gambled,  and  then  only  for  diversion.  On 
the  occasion  alluded  to,  they  at  once  be- 
gan playing  for  liquor,  and  having  at  length 
drank  more  than  their  wont,  proceeded  to 
stake  different  articles.  As  the  game  pro- 
gressed, they  became  more  and  more  exci- 
ted, until  at  last  their  stakes  ran  very  high. 
One  was  peculiarly  fortunate,  and  of  course 
the  luck  of  the  other  was  exactly  the  re- 
verse, which  so  mortified  and  vexed  him, 
that  he  finally  staked  all  his  hard  earnings 
and  lost.  On  this  his  companion  took  an- 
other drink,  grew  more  and  more  merry  at 
his  own  success,  which  he  attributed  to  his 
superior  skill  in  handling  the  cards,  and 
finally  bantered  the  other  to  put  up  his 
mules.  No  sooner  said  than  done,  and  the 
result  was  the  same  as  before.  He  was 
now,  to  use  the  phrase  of  some  of  the  by- 
standers, who  had  crowded  around  the  two 
to  watch  the  game,  "  Han'somely  cleaned 
out."  He  had  staked  all,  and  lost  all,  and 
was  of  course  rendered  not  a  little  despe- 
rate by  the  circumstance. 

"  Why  don't  you  bet  your  body  fixins?" 
cried  one. 

Like  a  drowning  man  at  a  straw,  he 
caught  at  the  idea,  and  the  next  moment 
he  and  his  companion  were  deciding  the 
ownership  of  his  costume  by  a  game  of 
euchre.  As  might  have  been  supposed, 
the  result  was  against  him,  and  he  was  at 
last  completely  beggared. 

Seizing  the  half  emptied  can  of  liqwor 
by  his  side,  he  drained  it  at  a  draught,  and 
in  a  tone  of  frenzy  cried: 

"Somebody lend  me somethin!  By ! 

I  must  have  my  fixins  back." 


"  Luck's  agin  ye  how,"  answered  one. 
"Better  wait  till  another  time." 

"No!  now — now! — by !  now!"  he 

fairly  screamed.     "  I'll  show  Jim  yet,  that 

I'm  his  master  at  cards  any  day  he 

pleases.  Who'll  lend  me  somethin,  I 
say?" 

None  seemed  inclined,  however,  to  as- 
sist one  so  signally  unfortunate;  and  hav- 
ing waited  a  sufficient  time,  and  finding 
his  appeal  likely  to  prove  fruitless,  the  dis- 
appointed man  rose,  and  in  a  great  passion 
swore  he  would  leave  "  such  outlandish 
diggins,  and  the  heathenish  set  that  inha- 
bit them." 

"  Whar'll  j'e  go?"  asked  his  companion, 
in  unusual  glee. 

"  Whar  no  such scam.ps  as  you  can 

find  me." 

"  But  afore  you  leave,  I  spose  you'll  pay 
your  debts!"  retorted  the  other. 

"  What  debts?" 

"  Didn't  I  jest  win  your  body  fixins?" 

"  Well,  do  you  claim  them,  tooT  I 
thought  as  how  you'd  got  enough  without 
them." 

"  Claim  all  my  property  wharever  I  can 
find  it,"  returned  the  other,  more  in  jest 
than  earnest.  "  Of  course,  ef  you're  goin 
to  leave,  so  as  I  won't  see  you  agin,  I 
can't  afl^ord  to  trust." 

"  You're  a  villain!"  cried  the  loser,  turn- 
ing fiercely  upon  his  friend:  "A  mean, 
dirty,  villainous  thiet,  and  a  liar!" 

"  Come,  come,  Sam — them's  hard  words," 
replied  the  one  called  Jim,  in  a  mood  of 
some  displeasure. 

"  Well,  they're  true,  you  know  it,  and 
you  darn't  resent  'em." 

"  By !"   cried  the    other,  his    eyes 

flashing  fire,  and  his  whole  frame  trembling 
with  a  newly  roused  passion,  "  I  dare  and 
will  resent  it,  at  any  time  and  place  you 
please." 

"  The  time's  now,  then,  and  the  place 
hereabouts." 

"  And  v/hat  the  way?" 

"  Rifles — thirty  paces." 

"  Enough,  by !"and  both  proceeded 

to  get  their  rifles  and  arrange  themselves 
upon  the  ground — a  spot  some  forty  yards 
distant  from  the  encampment — whither 
they  were  followed  by  a  large  crowd,  all 


98 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


eager  to  be  witnesses  of  a  not  uncommon, 
though  what  often  proved  a  bloody  scene, 
as  was  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 

Selecting  a  level  spot,  the  parties  in 
question  placed  themselves  back  to  back, 
and  having  examined  their  rifles,  each 
marched  forward  fifteen  paces,  and  wheel- 
ed face  to  his  antagonist.  Sam  then  call- 
ed out: 

"  All  ready]" 

"  Ready,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Somebody  give  the  word,  then,"  re- 
turned the  first  speaker,  and  at  the  same 
instant  both  rifles  were  brought  to  the  faces 
of  the  antagonists. 

For  a  moment  a  breatliless  silence  suc- 
ceeded, which  was  broken  by  the  distinct, 
but  ominous  word, 

"Fire!" 

Scarcely  was  it  uttered,  when  crack 
vs^ent  both  rifles  at  once;  and  bounding  up 
from  the  earth,  with  a  yell  of  pain,  Sam 
fell  back  a  corpse,  pierced  through  the 
brain  by  the  bullet  of  his  friend.  Jim  was 
unharmed,  though  the  ball  of  the  other 
had  passed  through  his  hat  and  grazed  the 
top  of  his  head.  Dropping  his  rifle,  with 
a  look  of  horror  that  haunts  me  still,  he 
darted  forward,  and  was  the  first  to  reach 
the  side  of  the  dead.  Bending  down,  he 
raised  the  body  in  his  arms,  and  wiping  the 
blood  from  his  face  with  its  hands,  called 
out,  in  the  most  endearing  and  piteous 
tones. 

"  Sam!  Sam! — look  up! — speak  to  me! 
— it's  Jim — your  friend.  I  did  not  go  to 
do  it.  I  Vv'as  mad, or  drunk.  Sam!  Sam! 
speak  to  me! — for  Heaven's  sake  speak,  if 
only  once,  and  say  you  forgive  me!  Sam, 
why  don't  you  speak  {  Oh!  Ishallgodis- 
tracted!  My  brain  seems  on  fire!  You 
know,  dear  Sam,  I  would  not  murder  you — 
you — my  friend — my  dearly  loved  friend — 
the  playmate  of  my  childhood!  Oh,  speak' 
speak!  speak  !  O  God  !  speak,  Sam,  if 
only  once!  It  was  the  cursed  liquor  that 
did  it.  Oh  speak!  if  only  to  curse  me! 
O  God!  O  God!  he  don't  answer  me!" 
cried  the  wretched  man,  turning  an  an- 
guished, imploring  look  upon  the  specta- 
tors, as  if  they  could  give  him  aid,  and 
then  wildly  straining  the  dead  man  to  his 
heart. 


"  He'll  never  speak  agin,"  said  one. 

"  Oh,  no!  do  not  say  that!"  shrieked  the 
duelist.  "  Do  not  say  that!  or  I  shall  go 
mad.  I  feel  it  here — here — in  my  head — 
in  my  brain.  I  killed  him, did  I!  I  killed 
him — murdered  him — the  only  friend  I  had 
on  earth!  And  you  all  stood  and  saw  me 
do  it.  Yes,  I  murdered  him.  See!  see! 
thar's  blood — his  blood — I  did  it — ha,  ha, 
ha!"  and  he  ended  with  a  maniacal  laugh, 
threw  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  hug- 
ged the  corpse  of  his  friend  to  his  heart. 

"  Poor  feller!"  said  one,"  he'd  better  be 
taken  into  one  o'  the  lodges,  for  he  looks 
like  he'd  lost  his  sense." 

"No,  no,  no!  you  shan't — you  shan't 
part  usl"  cried  the  frenzied  man,  drawing 
his  dead  companion  closer  to  his  heart,  as 
some  of  the  party  sought  to  carry  out  the 
suggestion  just  made.  "No,  no!  you 
shan't  part  us — never,  never,  never!  This 
is  Sam,  this  is — Sam  Murdoch — he's  my 
friend — and  we're  goin  a  long  journey  to- 
gether— aint  we,  Sam!  We'll  never  part 
agin — will  we,  Sam]  Never!  never! — O, 
neverl — ha,  ha,  ha!  Thar!  thar!"  he  con- 
tinued, dropping  the  body,  rising  to  a  sit- 
ing posture,  and  staring  wildly  at  some 
imaginary  object:  "I  see,  Sam — I  see! 
You're  in  great  danger.  That  rock's 
about  to  fall.  But  hang  on,  Sam — hang 
on  to  that  root!  Don't  let  go!  Jim's 
a-comin.  O  God!  who  put  that  chasm 
thar — that  mountain  gorge — to  separate 
us!  I  can't  git  across.  Help!  help!  or 
SamwiUdie.  Yes,  he's  fallin  now!  Thar! 
thar!  he's  goin — down — down — down.  But 
heyar's  what'll  meet  ye,  Sam.  Comin! 
comin!"  and  whipping  out  his  knife  as  he 
said  this,  before  any  one  was  aware  what 
he  was  about,  or  had  time  to  prevent  him, 
he  plunged  it  into  his  heart,  and  gasping 
the  word  "  Comin,"  rolled  over  upon  the 
earth  and  expired  beside  his  friend. 

I  had  been  a  silent  witness  of  the  whole 
bloody,  terrible  scene — but  my  feelings 
can  neither  be  imagined  nor  described. 
Speechless  with  horror,  I  stood  and  gazed 
like  one  in  a  nightmare,  without  the  pow- 
er to  move,  and  was  only  roused  from  my 
painful  revery  by  Huntly,  who,  tapping 
me   on  the  shoulder,  said: 

"  Come  away,  Frank — come  away  I" 


OR,  ADVENTURES    IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


99 


Complying  with  his  request,  I  turned, 
and  together  we  quitted  the  ground,  both 
too  deeply  aiFected  and  horrified  at  what 
we  had  seen  to  make  a  single  comment. 

The  mountaineers,  with  whom  such  and 
similar  scenes  were  of  common  occur- 
rence, proceeded  to  deposit  the  dead  in  a 
rude  grave  near  the  spot  where  they  had 
fallen.  They  then  returned  to  the  en- 
campment, to  take  a  drink  to  their  memo- 
ries, coolly  talk  over  the  "  Sad  mishap,"  as 
they  termed  it,  and  again  to  engage  in 
their  usual  routine  of  amusement  or  occu- 
pation. In  a  week  the  whole  affair  was 
forgotten,  or  mentioned  only  to  some  new 
comer  as  having  happened  "  some  time 
ago." 

Upon  the  mind  of  myself  and  friend,  it 
produced  an  impression  never  to  be  erased; 
and  for  a  long  time,  apparitions  of  the  un- 
fortunate trappers,  haunted  my  waking 
senses  by  day,  and  my  dreams  by  night. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

RESOLVE  TO  DEPART — DISCOURAGING  OBSER- 
VATIONS  FAIL  TO  GET  A  GUIDE SET  OUT 

UINTAH  FORT OUR  JOURNEY  TO  UTAH 

LAKE RESOLVE  TO  CROSS  THE  GREAT  IN- 
TERIOR BASIN FIRST  DAY'S  PROGRESS 

CAMP — KILL  A  RABBIT — SUDDEN  ATTACK 
FROM  THE  DIGGERS — REPULSE  AND  rOR- 
TUNATE  ESCAPE. 

We  had  been  a  month  in  Brown's  Hole, 
without  having  seen  or  heard  any  thing 
concerning  our  old  acquaintancea^-T-during 
which  time  another  mou,ntaineer  had  been, 
the  victim  of  a  quarrel,  though  his  death  we 
did  not  witness— r-vvhen  I  proposed  to  Huntly 
to  set  forward  at  once,  an,d  leave  a  place 
so  little  adapted  to  our  t;a,stes  and  feel- 
ings. 

"  But  where  do  you  piyflpose  going, 
Frank!"  inquired  my  friend. 

«  To  California." 

"  But  can  we  find  the  way  by  ourBelyes?" 

"  We  shall  hardly  find  a  pl^ce  less  to 
our  liking  than  this,  at  all  events,"  I  re» 
plied. 

"  But  we  are  safe  here,  Frank," 


"  I  presume  Charles  Huntly  does  not 
fear  danger,  or  he  would  not  have  ventur- 
ed westward  at  all." 

"Enough,  Frank!  Say  no  more!  I 
am  your  man.     But  when  shall  we  start!" 

"  What  say  you  for  to-morrow  morn- 
ing?' 

"  Agreed.  But  perhaps  we  can  hire  a 
guide!" 

"  We  will  try,"  I  rej.oined. 

But  our  trial  proved  fruitless.  No  guide 
could  be  found,  whose  luve  of  monry  would 
tempt  him,  at  this  seasun  of  the  year,  to 
undertake  the  conducting-  of  us  to  Califor- 
nia: while  on  every  hand  we  were  assail- 
ed by  the  mountaineers,  w  itb  the  most 
startling  accounts  ot  dangers  from  Indians,, 
from  snows,  from  floods,  from  .-^torms,  and 
i'rom  starvation. 

"  You  never  can  fetch  through,"  said 
one.     "  It's  a  fixed  urnpossibility." 

"  You're  fools  ef  you  undertake  it,"  join- 
ed in  another. 

"  It's  like  jumpin  on  to  rocks  down  a 
three  hundred  foot  precipice,  and  spectin- 
to  git  oft'  without  no  bones  broke,"  rejoin- 
ed a  third. 

"  Ef  you  know  what's  safe,  you'll  jest 
keep  your  eyes  skinned,  and  not  leave  these 
here  diggins,"  added  a  fourth. 

But  these  remarks,  instead  of  discour- 
aging us,  produced  exactly  the  opposite 
eff'ect,  and  roused  our  ambition  to  encoun- 
ter the  formidable  dangers  of  which  all 
were  so  eager  to  warn  us.  To  Huntly  and 
myself,  there  appeared  something  bold  and 
manly  in  attempting  what  all  seemed  to 
dread;  and  to  each  and  all  I  accordingly 
replied: 

"It  is  useless,  gentlemen,  trying  to  dis- 
courage us.  We  have  decided  on  going, 
!  and  go  we  shall  at  all  hazards." 
I  "  All  I've  got  to  say,  then,  i.s,  that  it'll 
be  the  last  goin  you'll  do  in  this  world," 
rejoined  the  friend  of  Black  George,  whO' 
seemed  uncommonly  loth  to  part  with  u&. 

The  next  morning  rose  clear  and  cold — 
for  the  air  in  this  part  of  the  country  had. 
become  quite  frosty — ami  agreeably  to  our 
resolve  of  the  preceding  day,  v/e  equipped 
ourselves  and  horses  once  more,  and  bid- 
ding our  mountaineer  friends  adieu,  set  for- 
ward Jn  fine  spirits — shaping  our  course, 


100 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


to  the  best  of  our  judgment, so  as  to  strike 
the  southern  range  of  the  Bear  River 
Mountains,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Utah 
Lake,  which  connects  with  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  on  the  north. 

To  give  our  progress  in  cietail,  would 
only  be  to  describe  a  succession  of  scenes, 
incidents  and  perils,  similar  to  those  al- 
ready set  before  the  reader,  and  take  up 
time  and  space  which  the  necessity  of  the 
case  requires  me  to  use  for  a  more  import- 
ant purpose.  I  shall,  therefore,  content 
myself  with  sketching  some  of  the  most 
prominent  and  startling  features  of  our 
route — a  route  sufficiently  full  of  perils,  as 
we  found  to  our  cost,  to  put  to  the  test  the 
temerity  and  try  the  iron  C(;nstitution  of 
the  boldest  and  most  hardy  adventurer. 

While  in  Brown's  Hole,  we  had  succeed- 
ed in  purchasing  of  one  of  the  traders,  at 
a  high  price,  a  map  and  compass,  which 
he  had  designed  especially  for  his  own  use, 
and  similar  to  those  we  had  provided  our- 
selves with  on  starting,  but  which,  togeth- 
er with  many  other  valuable  articles,  had 
been  left  in  our  possible  sacks  at  Fort  La- 
ramie. 

On  our  compass  and  map  we  now  placed 
our  whole  dependence,  as  our  only  guide 
over  a  vast  region  of  unexplored  country — 
or  explored  only  by  a  few  traders,  trappers 
and  Indians — Fremont's  celebrated  expe- 
dition, which  created  at  the  time  such  uni- 
versal interest  throughout  the  United 
States,  not  being  made  till  some  three  or 
four  years  subsequent  to  the  date  of  which 
I  am  writing.  And  here,  en  passant,  I 
would  remark,  that  in  determining  our 
course  for  California,  we  had  particular 
reference  to  the  southern  portion  of  it;  for 
as  every  reader  knows,  who  is  acquainted 
with  the  geography  of  the  country,  or  who 
has  taken  the  trouble  to  trace  our  route  on 
the  map — we  were  already  within  the 
northeastern  limits  prescribed  to  this 
mighty  territory. 

Leavin-;  the  delightful  valley  of  Brown's 
Hole,  we  dashed  swiftly  onward  in  a  south- 
westerly direction,  and  our  horses  being 
in  fine  travelling  order,  we  were  enabled 
to  pass  a  long  stretch  of  beautiful  country, 
and  camp,  at  close  of  day,  on  the  banks  of 
a  stream  known  as  Ashley's  Fork.     Cross- 


ing this  the  next  morning,  we  continued 
on  the  same  course  as  the  day  previous, 
and  night  found  us  safely  lodged  in  the 
Uintah  Fort — a  solitary  trading  post  in  the 
wilderness — which  was  then  garrisoned  by 
Spaniards  and  Canadians,  with  a  sprink- 
ling of  several  other  nations,  together 
with  Indian  women,  wives  of  the  traders 
and  hunters,  who  comprised  the  whole  fe- 
male department. 

Here  we  sought  to  procure  a  guide,  but 
with  the  same  success  as  before — not  one 
caring  to  risk  his  life  by  an  experiment  so 
fool-hardy,  as  undertaking  a  journey  of 
m.any  hundred  miles,  with  a  force  so  small, 
over  a  pathless  region  of  territory,  and 
either  peopled  not  at  all,  or  by  hostile  tribes 
of  savages. 

The  accounts  we  received  from  all  quar- 
ters of  the  dangers  before  us,  were  certain- 
ly enough  to  have  intimidated  and  changed 
the  designs  of  any  less  venturesome  thanwe, 
and  less  firmly  fixed  in  a  foolish  determina- 
tion to  pysh  to  the  end  what  at  best  could 
only  be  termed  an  idle,  boyish  freak.  But 
as  I  said  before,  our  ambil  ion  was  roused  to 
perform  what  all  were  afraid  to  dare,  and 
we  pressed  onward,  as  reckless  of  conse- 
quences as  though  we  knew  our  lives  spe- 
cially guaranteed  to  us,  for  a  term  of  years 
beyond  the  present,  by  a  Power  from  on 
high.  I  have  often  since  looked  back  to 
this  period,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  what  we  then  dared;  and  I  can  now 
enly  account  for  our  temerity — our  indif- 
ference to  the  warnings  we  received — as 
resulting  from  a  kind  of  monomania. 

A  travel  of  some  two  or  three  days, 
brought  us  to  a  stream  called  the  Spanish 
Fork,  and  pushing  down  this,  through  a 
wild  gorge  in  the  Wahsatch  Mountains, 
we  encamped  the  day  following  on  its 
broad,  fertile  bottoms,  near  its  junction 
with,  and  in  full  view  of,  the  Utah  Lake. 
We  were  now  in  the  country  of  the  Utah's, 
a  tribe  of  Indians  particularly  hostile  to 
small  parties  of  whites,  and  the  utmost 
caution  was  necessary  to  avoid  falling  into 
their  clutehes.  On  either  hand,  walling 
the  valley  on  the  right  and  left,  rose  wild, 
rugged,  frowning  cliffs,  and  peaks  of  moun- 
tains, lifting  their  heads  far  heavenward, 
covered  with  eternal  snows. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


101 


At  this  particular  spot  was  good  grazing 
for  our  horses;  but  judging  by  the  appear- 
ance of  tl>e  country  around  us,  and  the  in- 
formation we  had  received  from  the  moun- 
taineers, we  were  about  to  enter  a  sterile 
region,  with  little  or  no  vegetation — in 
many  places  devoid  of  water  and  game  (our 
main  dependence  lor  subsistence) — peo- 
pled, if  atall, by  the  Diggers  only — an  ani- 
mal of  the  human  species  the  very  lowest  in 
the  scale  of  intellect — in  fact  scarcely  re- 
moved from  the  brute  creation — who  sub- 
sist upon  what  few  roots,  lizards  and  rep- 
tiles they  can  gather  from  the  mountains 
— sometimes  in  small  parties  of  three  and 
four,  and  sometimes  in  numbers — and  who, 
being  perfect  cannibals  in  their  habits, 
would  not  fail  to  destroy  us  if  possible, 
were  it  for  nothing  else  than  to  feast  upon 
our  carcasses.  Take  into  consideration,  too, 
our  education— our  luxurious  habits  through 
life — our  inability  to  contend  with  numbers 
— that  the  only  benefit  we  could  derive  from 
our  expedition  would  be  in  satisfying  our 
boyish  love  of  adventure — and  I  think  even 
the  most  reckless  will  be  free  to  pronounce 
our  undertaking  (ool-hardy  in  the  extreme. 

So  far,  we  had  been  very  fortunate  in 
escaping  the  savages;  but  from  all  appear- 
ances we  could  not  do  so  much  longer; 
and  what  would  be  the  result  of  our  meet- 
ing, God  only  knew.  We  were  now  on 
the  borders  of  the  Great  Interior  Basin,  a 
region  of  country  containing  thousands  on 
thousands  of  miles,  never  yet  explored  by 
a  white  man,  perhaps  by  no  living  being! 
Should  we  make  the  attempt  to  cross  it! 
We  could  but  lose  our  lives  at  the  worst, 
and  we  might  perchance  succeed,  and  find 
a  nearer  route  to  Western  or  Southern 
California  than  the  one  heretofore  travel- 
led. There  M'^as  something  inspiring  in 
the  thought;  and  tne  matter  was  discussed 
in  our  lone  camp,  in  the  dead  hours  of 
night,  with  no  little  animation. 

"What  say  you,  Frank]"  cried  Huntly 
the  next  morning,  rousing  me  from  a  sweet 
dream  of  home.  "  Westward  or  south- 
ward?" 

"Why,"  I  replied,  "there  is  danger  in 
either  choice — so  choose  for  yourself." 

"  Well,  I  am  for  exploring  this  region 
left  blank  on  the  map." 


"  Then  we  will  go,  live  or  die,"  I  rejoin- 
ed; "  for  I  long  myself  to  behold  what  has 
never  as  yet  been  seen  by  one  of  my 
race." 

The  matter  thus  decided,  we  mounted 
our  horses,  and  keeping  to  the  south  of 
the  Utah  Lake,  crossed  a  small  stream,  and 
about  noon  came  to  a  halt  on  the  brovr  of 
a  high  hill,  forming  a  portion  of  the  Wah- 
satch  range.  Below  us,  facing  the  west, 
we  beheld  a  barren  track  of  land,  with 
here  and  there  a  few  green  spots,  and  an 
occasional  stream  sparkling  in  the  bright 
sunlight,  Which  led  us  to  the  inference 
that  there  might  be  oases,  at  intervals  of 
a  day's  ride,  across  the  whole  Great  Basin, 
to  the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  or  Snowy 
Range,  which  divides  it  from  the  pleasant 
valleys  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joa- 
quin. 

It  was  a  delightful  day,  and  every  thing 
before  us,  even  the  most  sterile  spots, 
looked  enchanting  in  the  soft  mellow 
light.  Descending  the  mountain  with  not 
a  little  difficulty,  we  set  forward  across 
the  plain,  shaping  our  course  to  the  near- 
est point  likely  to  afford  us  a  good  encamp- 
ment. But  the  distance  was  much  farther 
than  we  had  anticipated,  when  viewing  it 
from  the  mountain;  and  although  we  urged 
our  beasts  onward  as  much  as  they  could 
bear,  night  closed  around  us  long  ere  we 
reached  it.  Reach  it  we  did  at  last;  and 
heartily  fatigued  with  our  day's  work,  we 
hobbled  our  horses,  and  without  kindling 
a  fire,  or  eating  a  morsel  of  food,  rolled 
ourselves  in  our  robes  of  buffalo,  and  fell 
asleep. 

The  sun  of  the  succeeding  morning, 
shining  brightly  in  our  faces,  awoke  us; 
and  springing  to  our  feet,  we  gazed  around 
with  mingled  sensations  of  awe  and  de- 
light. Doubtless  we  felt,  in  a  small  de- 
gree, the  emotions  excited  in  the  breast  of 
the  adventurer,  when  for  the  first  time  he 
finds  himself  on  ground  which  he  fancies 
has  never  yet  been  trod  nor  seen  by  a 
stranger.  We  had  entered  a  country  now, 
which  the  most  daring  had  feared  or  failed 
to  explore,  and  we  felt  a  noble  pride  in  the 
thought  that  we  should  be  the  first  to  lay 
before  the  world  its  mysteries. 

The  point  where  we  had  encamped,  was 


102 


THE  PRAIRTE  FLOWER; 


jjreen  and  ferule,  abounding  with  what  is  ] 
termed  buffalo  grass,  with  trees  unlike  any  j 
I  had  before  seen,  and  with  wild  flowers 
innumerable.  Like  an  island  from  the 
ocean,  it  rose  above  the  desert  around  it, 
covering  an  area  of  a  mile  in  circumfer- 
ence, and  was  watered  by  several  bright 
springs  of  deliglitful  beverage. 

Turning  our  gaze  to  the  eastward,  we 
beheld  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Wahsatch 
Mountains,  which  we  had  left  behind  us, 
looming  up  in  grandeur;  while  to  the  west- 
ward, nothing  was  visible  but  an  unbroken, 
barren,  pathless  desert.  Here  was  cer- 
tainly a  prospect  any  thing  but  charming 
— yet  not  for  a  moment  did  we  waver  in 
our  determination  to  press  onward. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  on  leaving 
the  village  of  the  Mysterious  Nation,  Prai- 
rie Flower  had  taken  care  to  furnish  us  a 
good  supply  of  jerk;  and  this,  by  killing 
more  or  less  game  on  our  route,  we  had 
been  enabled  to  retain  in  our  possession, 
to  be  eaten  only  in  cases  of  extreme  ne- 
necessity;  consequently  we  did  not  fear 
suffering  for  food,  so  much  as  for  water; 
and  even  the  latter  we  were  sanguine  of 
finding,  ere  any  thing  serious  should  occur. 
The  only  matter  that  troubled  us  sorely, 
was  the  fear  our  noble  animals  would  not 
be  as  fortunate  as  we,  and  that  starvation 
might  compel  them  to  leave  their  bones  in 
the  wilderness,  and  thereby  oblige  us  to 
pursue  our  journey  on  foot — an  event,  as 
the  reader  will,  perceive,  far  more  probable 
than  agreeable. 

As  we  had  eaten  nothing  the  previous 
night,  we  now  felt  our  appetites  much 
sharpened  thereby,  and  looking  around  in 
the  hope  of  discovering  game,  my  eye 
chanced  upon  a  rabbit.  The  next  moment 
the  sharp  crack  of  my  rifle  broke  upon  the 
solitude,  and  the  little  fellow  lay  dead  in 
his  tracks. 

Hastily  dressing  him  and  kindling  a  fine, 
we  were  already  in  the  act  of  toasting  the 
meat,  when  whiz-z-z  came  a  dozen  arrows 
through  the  air,  some  of  them  actually 
penetrating  our  garments  without  wound- 
ing us,  and  others  burying  themselves  in 
the  ground  at  our  feet.  Springing  up  with 
aery  of  alarm,  we  grasped  our  rifles, though 
only  one  was  loaded,  and  turned  to  loe^ 


for  the  enemy.  Upon  a  steep  bluff,  some 
thirty  paces  behind  us,  we  beheld  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  small,  dirty,  miserable 
looking  savages,  with  their  bows  and  ar- 
rows in  their  hands,  already  in  the  act  of 
giving  us  another  volley. 

"  By  heavens!  Frank,"  cried  Huntly,  "it 
is  all  over  with  us  now." 

"  Never  say  die  to  such  dirty  curmud- 
geons as  them,"  I  rejoined,  more  vexed 
than  alarmed.  "  Quick!  Charley — dodge 
behind  this  tree!  and  while  I  load,  be 
sure  you  bring  one  of  them  to  his  last  ac- 
count!" 

While  speaking  I  ran,  followed  by  my 
friend,  and  scarcely  had  we  gained  shelter, 
when  whiz-z-z  came  another  flight  of  ar- 
rows, some  of  them  actually  piercing  the 
tree  behind  which  we  stood. 

"Quick!  Charley — they  are  looking  to- 
ward our  horses!  (These  were  feeding 
within  ten  paces  of  us.)  There!  they  are 
on  the  point  of  shooting  them.  Take  the 
leader!  For  heaven's  sake  don't  miss — 
or  we  are  lost!" 

As  I  spoke,  the  rifle  of  my  friend  belched 
forth  its  deadly  contents,  and  the  foremost 
of  our  foes,  who  was  just  on  the  point  of 
discharging  an  arrow  at  one  of  the  horses, 
shot  it  at  random,  and,  with  a  loud  yell,  fell 
headlong  down  the  bluff",  and  was  dashed 
to  pieces  on  the  rocks  below.  Several 
others  had  their  bows  drawn,  but  on  the 
fall  of  their  companion,  they  also  fired  at 
random,  and  approaching  the  bluff,  gazed 
down  upon  his  mangled  remains,  uttering 
frantic  yells  of  rage  and  grief. 

By  this  time  my  own  rifle  was  loaded, 
and  taking  a  hasty  aim,  I  tumbled  a  se- 
cond after  the  first.  The  savages  were 
now  alarmed  in  earnest,  and  retreating 
several  paces,  just  made  their  faces  visi- 
ble, apparently  undecided  whether  to  re- 
treat or  attack  us  in  a  body.  This  was  an 
important  moment;  but  fortunately  for  ue, 
the  rifle  of  Huntly  was  now  again  loaded, 
and  taking  a  more  careful  sight  than  be- 
fore, he  lodged  the  ball  in  the  head  of  a 
third.  This  created  a  terrible  panic  among 
our  enemies,  who  fled  precipitately. 

Now  was  cur  chance,  and  perhaps  our 
only  chance,  to  escape;  for  we  knew  no- 
thing of  the  number  of  our  foe,  nor  at 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


103 


what  moment  he  might  return  with  an 
overwhelming  force;  and  calling  to  Hunt- 
ly,  I  darted  to  my  horse  and  cut  the  tether- 
rope  with  my  knife;  and  so  rapidly  did  both 
of  us  work,  that  in  three  minutes  we  were 
in  our  saddles  and  galloping  away. 

As  we  turned  the  southern  point  of  this 
desert  island,  we  heard  an  ominous  succes- 
sion of  yells,  and  some  forty  rods  away  to 
the  right,  beheld  a  band  of  at  least  fifty 
Indians,  of  both  sexes,  together  with 
some  twenty  miserable  huts.  This  was 
evidently  their  village,  and,  from  what  we 
could  judge,  they  were  preparing  to  re- 
new the  attack,  as  we  had  feared,  when  our 
appearance  apprised  them  of  our  escape. 

To  the  best  of  our  judgment,  they  were 
Diggers,  and  on  this  oasis  dragged  out  their 
miserable  existence.  Being  divided  from 
us  by  a  ridge,  neither  party  had  been  aware 
of  the  proximity  of  the  other,  until  the 
discharge  of  my  rifle  at  the  rabbit.  This 
it  appears  had  alarmed  them,  and  excited 
an  immediate  attack,  from  the  fatal  conse- 
quence of  which  kind  Heaven  had  so  pro- 
videntially delivered  us.  We  thought  se- 
riously of  giving  them  a  parting  salute — 
particularly  as  they  seemed  to  grieve  so 
much  for  our  departure — but  on  second 
consideration,  concluded  we  would  reserve 
our  powder  and  ball,  not  knowing  how  ne- 
cessary to  self-preservation  these  might  yet 
become;  and  so  taking  off  our  hats,  and 
waving  them  a  kind  farewell,  we  dashed 
away  over  the  plain. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  BARREN  DESERT — NO  WATER — ALARMING 
CONDITION  OF  OUR  HORSES — CAMP— A  LIT- 
TLE REFRESHED — A  SANBT  DESERT — IN- 
CREASED SUFFERINGS — DEATH  OF  MT 
friend's   horse — A   DRAUGHT   OF   BLOOD 

CONSULTATION RESOLVE  TO  PRESS   ON 

DEATH    or  MY  OWN  HORSE AFOOT A 

TERRIBLE  NIGHT HOPE IN  SIGHT  OF  AN 

OASIS GRATITUDE ALMOST  SUPERHU- 
MAN EXERTIONS — A  STREAM — INSANITT 
EXHAUSTION — RELIEF . 

Our  progress  through  the  day  was  over 
an  arid  waste  of  calcareous  formation,  de- 


void of  all  vegetation,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  tall,  stiff,  wire-like  weeds,  that 
grew  here  and  there,  where  the  soil  appear- 
ed a  little  moist  and  loomy.  Deep  ravines, 
or  cracks  in  the  earth,  in  some  places  to 
the  depth  of  it  might  be  a  thousand  feet, 
cut  across  the  ground  in  every  direction, 
and  rendered  every  thing  like  speed,  or 
travelling  after  night,  out  of  the  question. 
These  gullies,  when  very  narrow,  we 
forced  our  horses  to  leap — but  frequently 
had  to  ride  around  them — on  account  of 
which  our  progress  westward  was  slow 
and  tedious.  The  sun  here  seemed  at  least 
twenty  degrees  warmer  than  on  the  high- 
lands we  had  left  behind  us,  and  not  hav- 
ing come  to  any  water,  we  began  about 
mid-day  to  feel  the  oppression  of  a  burn- 
ing thirst,  while  our  well  fed  and  well  wa- 
tered animals  of  the  morning,  showed 
alarming  signs  of  experiencing  the  same 
sensation,  by  lolling  their  tongues,  occa- 
sionally smelling  the  earth,  and  snuffing 
the  dry  air.  Oh !  what  would  we  riot  have 
given,  even  then,  for  a  bucket  of  water, 
cool  from  some  deep  well! 

We  found  no  place  to  noon,  and  conse- 
quently were  forced  to  push  forward,  in 
the  hope  of  reaching  an  oasis  for  our 
night's  encampment. 

On,  on  we  went,  our  thirst  increasing 
to  a  great  degree,  while  the  sun  rolled 
slowly  down  toward  the  west,  and  yet  no- 
thing around  and  before  us  but  this  same 
dull,  arid  waste.  We  now  began  to  expe- 
rience the  effects  of  our  rashness,  and,  if 
truth  must  be  told,  secretly  wish  ourselves 
safely  clear  of  our  undertaking,  though 
neither  breathed  a  word  to  the  other  of 
the  thoughts  passing  in  his  mind.  Our 
horses,  too,  seemed  very  much  fatigued, 
and  required  considerable  spurring  to  haste 
them  forward. 

The  sun  had  now  sunk  within  an  hour 
of  the  horizon,  and  yet  the  same  cheerless 
prospect  lay  before  us.  We  looked  back, 
and  far  in  the  distance,  like  a  mole-hill, 
could  faintly  trace  the  outline  of  the  oasis 
of  our  last  encampment;  while  beyond, 
the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Wahsatch  glisten- 
ed in  the  sunbeams.  Advancing  a  couple 
of  miles,  we  found  ourselves  compelled  to 
camp  for  the  night,  without  water,  and 


104 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


with  nothing  for  our  horses  to  eat;  and 
the  fact  of  this  was  any  thing  but  cheer- 
ing. 

"What  is  to  be  done]'"  asked  Huntly. 
"  We  can  not  long  exist  without  water, 
and  our  poor  beasts  are  already  suffering 
to  an  alarming  degree,  and  will  not  be 
likely  to  hold  out  more  than  one  day  more 
at  the  most." 

"  Well,  I  fancy  by  that  time  we  shall 
come  to  a  spot  similar  to  the  one  behind 
us." 

"  Then  you  think  wc  had  better  go  for- 
ward!" 

"  I  dislike  the  idea  of  turning  back.  Be- 
sides, we  should  probably  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  savages,  and  death  h^ere  looks 
fvill  as  tempting  as  there." 

"  But  our  horses,  Frank — poor  beasts! 
see  how  they  suffer." 

"  I  know  it,  and  would  to  Heaven  I  could 
relieve  them!  But  we  cannot  even  help 
ourselves." 

"  Do  you  think  they  can  go  through  an- 
other day  like  this!" 
"  I  am  unable  to  say." 
"  Oh!  it  would  be  awful  to  be  put  afoot 
in  this  desert  " 

"  By  no  means  a  pleasant  matter,  I  must 
own.  But,  my  friend,  this  is  no  time  to  get 
alarmed.  We  have  set  out,  after  being 
duly  warned,  and  must  therefore  make  the 
most  of  the  circumstances  we  have  brought 
upon  ourselves.  If  our  horses  die,  we 
must  use  their  blood  to  quench  our  thirst." 
"Heavens!  Frank,"  exclaimed  Huntly, 
startled  with  a  new  idea,  "  what  if  anoth- 
er day's  travel  like  this  should  still  leave 
us  in  the  bare  desert,  with  no  haven  in 
sight?" 

"  Why,  I  should  consider  our  case  near- 
ly hopeless;  but  we  will  trust  to  having 
better  fortune." 

We  now  ate  sonte  of  our  meat  with  but 
little  relish,  and  throwing  ourselves  upon 
the  earth,  at  length  fell  into  a  kind  of  fe- 
verish slumber.  A  heavy  dew  falling  du- 
ring the  night,  refreshed  us  not  a  little. 
At  the  first  streak  of  daylight,  we  were 
again  in  our  saddles,  and  found,  much  to 
our  joy,  that  although  our  poor  beasts  had 
eaten  not  a  morsel  since  the  morning  pre- 
vious, they,  like  ourselves,  were  consider- 


ably invigorated  by  a  night  of  repose. 
Setting  forward  again,  as  cheerfully  as  the 
circumstances  would  permit,  we  travelled 
some  two  or  three  hours  at  a  fast  amble; 
but  now  the  sun  began  to  be  felt  rather 
sensibly,  and  our  beasts  to  flag  and  droop, 
while  our  sensations  of  thirst  seemed  in- 
creased ten-fold.  If  this  was  the  case  in 
the  morning,  what  would  be  the  result  ere 
another  night!  We  shuddered  at  the 
thought. 

About  noon,  the  appearance  of  the 
ground  began  to  change  for  the  worse, 
which,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  was  produc- 
tive of  no  little  alarm.  Gradually  it  be- 
came more  and  more  sandy,  and  an  hour's 
farther  progress  brought  us  to  a  desert 
more  barren  than  ever,  where  not  a  living 
thing,  vegetable  or  animal,  could  be  seen, 
over  a  dreary  expanse,  that,  for  all  we 
knew,  might  be  hundreds  of  miles. in  ex- 
tent. 

To  add  to  the  horrors  of  our  situation, 
our  horses  were  evidently  on  tlie  point  of 
giving  out — for  as  they  buried  their  feet  in 
the  white,  hot  sand,  they  occasionally 
floundered,  and  reeled,  and  stemed  inclined 
to  lie  down — while  our  own  throats,  lips, 
and  tongues  began  to  swell,  and  the  skin 
of  our  faces  and  hands  to  blister  and  crack. 
I  recalled  to  mind  the  accounts  I  had  read 
of  bones  being  found  in  the  great  Arabian 
deserts,  and  I  fancied  that  many  years 
hence,  some  more  fortunate  traveller  might 
so  discover  ours. 

Cheering  each  other  as  well  as  we  could, 
we  kept  on  for  another  hour,  when  the 
horse  of  Huntly  reeled,  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  and  fell  over  upon  his  side. 

"OGod!"  cried  my  friend  in  despair, 
"we  are  lost — we  are  lost! — and  such  a 
death!" 

"  Our  last  hope  is  here,"  I  rejoined,  dis- 
mounting and  plunging  my  knife  into  the 
dying  beast;  and  as  the  warm  blood  spout- 
ed forth,  we  placed  our  parched  lips  to  it, 
and  drank  with  a  greediness  we  had  never 
felt  nor  displayed  for  any  thing  before. 

This  gave  us  no  little  relief  for  the  time, 
and  added  vigor  to  our  already  drooping 
and  weakened  frames.  !^ut  what  could  it 
avail  us?  It  might  relieve  us  now — might 
prolong  our  lives  a  few  hours — only  to  go 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


105 


through  the  same  terrible  tortures  and  find 
death  at  last.  Unless  we  could  reach  a 
spring  by  another  day's  travel,  or  come  in 
sight  of  one,  our  case  was  certainly  hope- 
less; and  to  carry  us  forward,  we  now  had 
nothing  to  depend  on  but  our  own  limbs 
and  strength,  while  our  path  must  be  over 
a  bed  of  hot,  loose  sand,  where  every  step 
would  be  buried  ankle  deep. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  sighed  Huntly  at  length, 
"  what  are  we  to  do  now!  I  suppose  we 
may  as  well  die  here  as  elsewhere." 

"  No!  not  here,  my  friend;  we  will  make 
one  trial  more  at  least." 

"  And  have  we  any  prospect,  think  you, 
of  saving  our  lives — of  seeing  another 
green  spot!" 

"  Why,  you  remember  when  on  the 
Wahsatch,  we  saw  some  hills  away  in  the 
distance;  and  unless  it  was  an  optical  il- 
lusion, I  have  a  faint  hope  of  being  able 
to  reach  them  before  this  time  to-morrow." 

"  God  grant  it,  my  friend! — for  though  I 
fear  not  death  more  than  another,  there  is 
something  horrible  in  the  thought  of  leav- 
ing my  bones  here  in  the  wilderness." 

"Well,  well,  cheer  up,  Huntly!  and 
trust  in  Providence  to  carry  us  safely 
through." 

A  farther  consultation  resulted  in  the 
decision  to  await  the  night,  and  if  my  horse 
proved  able  to  proceed,  to  let  him  carry  our 
sacks,  rifles,  &c.,  v/hile  we  were  to  keep 
him  company  on  foot. 

By  the  time  the  sun  had  fairly  set,  we 
resumed  our  journey;  but  after  a  laborious 
travel  of  half  a  mile,  my  horse  gave  out. 
Taking  from  him  a  portion  of  the  jerked 
meat,  our  rifles,  and  such  small  articles  as 
we  could  not  well  do  without,  we  left  him 
to  his  fate  with  many  a  sigh  of  regret. 

It  was  a  clear,  starlight  night,  and  the 
air  just  cool  enough  to  be  comfortable; 
but  unlike  the  preceding  one,  we  no  long- 
er had  the  refreshing  dew  to  moisten  our 
bodies  and  renew  our  strength.  Still  we 
succeeded  better  than  I  had  anticipated, 
and,  by  exertions  almost  superhuman,  pla- 
ced many  a  long  mile  between  us  and  our 
starting  point,  ere  the  first  crimson  streak 
in  the  east  told  'that  day  was  again  dawn- 
ing. To  add  hope  to  our  drooping  spirits, 
we  now  found  the  ground  becoming  more 


I  and  more  solid,  and  ere  the  sun  peered  over 
i  the  mountains,  which  were  almost  lost  to 
view  in  the  distance,  we  set  our  feet  once 
more  upon  hard  earth,  similar  in  appear- 
ance to  that  v^  had  quitted  for  the  sands. 
Struggling  on  a  mile  or  two  farther,  we 
ascended  a  slight  elevation,  and,  joy  inex- 
pressable!  beheld  far  away  before  us  a 
ridge  of  green  hills.  All  the  extravagant, 
unspeakable  delight  of  the  poor,  shipwreck- 
ed mariner,  who  has  been  for  days  tossed 
about  by  the  angry  elements,  without  food 
to  save  him  from  starvation,  without  water 
to  slake  his  consuming  thirst,  on  behold- 
ing, in  the  last  agonies  of  despair,  the 
green  hills  of  his  native  land  suddenly 
loom  up  before  him— all  his  unspeakable 
emotions,  I  say,  were  ours;  and  silently 
dropping  upon  our  knees,  our  hearts  spoke 
the  gratitude  to  our  All-wise  Preserver 
which  our  tongues  were  unable  to  utter. 
True,  the  famished,  worn-out  mariner 
might  die  in  sight  of  land — and  so  might 
we  in  view  of  our  haven  of  rest — yet  the 
bare  hope  of  reaching  it  alive,  aave  ener- 
gy to  our  sinking  spirits  and  strength  to 
our  failing  limbs. 

Again   we   pressed   forward,   our  now 
swollen  and  bloodshot  eyes  fixed  eagerly 
upon  the  desired  spot,  which,  like  an  ignis- 
fatuus,  seemed  only  to  recede  to  our  ad- 
vance.    The   sun,  too,  gradually   rolling 
higher  and  higher,  till  he  reached  the  ze- 
nith of  his  glory  and  began  to  descend  to 
ward  the  west,  poured  down  his  scorching 
j  rays,  (for  they  seemed  scorching  to  us  in 
the  desert)  dried   up  as  it  were  the  very 
marrow  Qf  our  bones,  blistered  our  parch- 
ed  and    feverish   skins,   and   caused   our 
limbs  to  swell,  till  every  step  became  one 
of  pain  almost  unbearable.     All  our  pre- 
vious sufferings  were  as  nothing,  seeming- 
ly, compared  to  our  present;  and  when  we 
reached    the    bank   of    a  stream,  which 
wound  around  the  base  of  the  hills,  the 
sun  had  already  hid  himself  for  the  day, 
and  we  sunk  down  completely  exhausted! 
Huntly,  for  the  last  two  or  three  miles, 
had  shown  symptoms  of  confirmed  insani- 
ty— had  often  raved  about  home,  which  he 
declared  was  just  below  him  in  a  pool  ol 
clear  water,  which  he,  being  chained  to  a 
rock,  was  not  permitted  to  reach,  althouf^h 


106 


dying  ef  thirst— and  had  often  turned  to 
me,  with  much  the  look  of  a  ravenous 
beast  about  to  spring  upon  his  prey — so 
that,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  in  my  then 
weak  state,  I  had  succeeded  in  getting  him 
to  tlie  stream,  where,  as  I  said  before,  we 
both  sunk  down  in  a  state  of  exlitiustion. 
Had  the  stream  been  a  mile,  or  even  half 
a  mile  farther  ofT,  we  must  both  have  per- 
ished in  sight  of  that  water  which  alone 
could  save  us.  Weak  and  worn-out  as  I 
was,  I  still,  thank  God!  iiad  my  senses — 
though  sometimes  I  fancied  they  were  be- 
ginning to  wander— and  I  knew  that  for 
either  to  indulge  his  appetite  freely,  would 
be  certain  to  produce  death. 

As  my  friend  seemed  too  feeble  to  move, 
and  as  I  was  in  a  little  better  condition — 
though  now  unable  to  walk — I  crawled 
over  the  ground  to  the  stream,  which  was 
not  deep,  and  rolled  into  it,  restraining 
myself  even  then  from  tasting  a  drop,  un- 
til my  body  was  thoroughly  soaked,  and  I 
felt  considerably  revived.  After  a  bath  of 
soBje  five  minutes,  I  took  a  few  draughts 
of  the  sparkling  element,  and  never  in  my 
life  experienced  such  a  powerful  and  speedy 
change  for  the  better.  Almost  instantly 
I  felt  the  life-renewing  blood  darting 
through  my  veins,  and  I  came  out  of  the 
water,  as  it  were  another  being. 

Hastening  to  my  friend,  I  partially  rais- 
ed him  in  my  arms,  and  dragging  him  to 
the  stream,  tumbled  him  in,  taking  care  to 
keep  a  firm  hold.  In  a  few  minutes  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  slowly  re- 
vive. Then  scooping  up  the  water  with 
my  hand,  I  placed  it  to  his  lips,  which^he 
drank  eagerly.  Gradually  his  strength 
and  consciousness  returned,  and  with  feel- 
ings which  none  butone  in  my  situation  can 
ever  know,  I  at  length  heard  him  exclaim: 

"Water!  water!  Thank  God!  Frank, 
we  are  saved!"  and  falling  upon  the  breast 
of  each  other,  overcome  with  emotions  of 
joy,  our  tears  of  gratitude  were  borne 
away  upon  the  river  which  laved  our  feet. 

Eating  sparingly,  ever  moistening  our 
food,  we  at  last  found  our  former  strength 
much  restored;  and  fording  the  stream, 
we  threw  ourselves  upon  the  grassy  earth, 
and  slept.  somiUij  that  night  upon  its  west- 
'3rn  bank.     • 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 


effects  of  our  journey — the  mystery 
solved — exploration — game — a  sup- 
posed discovery  of  sold travels  re- 
sumed— in  sight  of  the  sierra  nevada 

joy— indians reach  the  mountains 

ascent ten  thousand   feet  above 

the    sea snow sufferings an  in- 
dian hut hospitality — in   sight   of 

the   sacramento arrival    at    sut- 

ter's. 

On  the  following  morning,  we  found  our 
limbs  so  stiff  and  sore,  as  scarcely  to  be 
able  to  move  about.  With  great  difficulty 
we  gained  the  river,  and  bathed  ourselves 
in  its  cool,  refreshing  waters,  as  on  the 
evening  previous.  The  result  of  this  seem- 
ed very  beneficial;  but  still  we  suffered  too 
much  from  our  recent  almost  superhuman 
exertions,  to  think  of  leaving  our  present 
locality  for  a  day  or  two  at  least. 

Looking  back  over  the  desert  which  had 
nearly  cost  us  our  lives,  we  could  barely 
perceive  the  shadowy  outline  of  some  of 
the  highest  peaks  of  the  Bear  River  and 
Wahsatch  Mountains;  but  not  a  trace  of 
that  ridge  whereon  we  had  stood  before 
entering  this  unexplored  territory,  from 
whence  we  had  beheld  distant  oases  and 
streams,  none  of  which,  save  the  first,  had 
been  found  on  our  route.  How  this  ceuld 
be,  was  a  matter  of  serious  speculation, 
until  Huntly  suggested  the  fact  of  our  hav- 
ing looked  more  to  the  southward  than 
westward.  •  His  observation  struck  me 
quite  forcibly;  for  I  now  remembered  hav- 
ing examined  our  compass,  shortly  after 
leaving  the  Indians,  and  of  altering  our 
course  to  the  right,  although  previously  I 
had  thought  ourselves  going  due  west.  I 
remembered,  too,  feeling  somewhat  sur- 
prised at  the  time,  that  we  had  become  so 
turned,  but  had  afterwards  forgotten  the 
trifling  circumstanQ^— at  least  what  then 
appeared  trifling — though,  as  events  pro- 
ved Anally,  a  circumstance  of  life  and 
death. 

This  then  solved  the  mystery!  We  had 
come  due  west,  instead  of  west  by  south, 
and  consequently  had  missed  the  very 
points  we  tliQught  before  us,  and  which 


OR,  ADVExXTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


107 


would  have  saved  the  lives  of  our  poor  |  ley  of  the  Sacramento,  at  which  point  vvc 
beasts.  I  aimed. 

For  two  days  we  remained  on  the  bank  i  One  thing  in  our  rambles  struck  us 
of  the  stream,  which  we  not  inai)propri-  j  quite  forcibly— that  in  the  beds  of  nearly 
ately  named  Providence  Creek,  without  j  siH  the  streams  we  examined,  we  found  u 
venturing  away  the  distance  of  thirty  |  fine  yellow  substance,  mixed  with  the  dirt 
rods  during  the  whole  time.  On  the  morn-  j  and  sands,  which  had  every  appearance  o! 
ing  of  the  third  day,  we  found  our  limbs  |  gold.  As  we  had  no  means  of  testing 
so  pliable,  and  our  strength  so  far  recruit- 1  this,  we  resolved  to  take  some  along  as  a 
ed,  as  to  think  ourselves  justifiad  inresum- :  specimen,  and  should  we  escape,  and  our 
ing  our  travels,  or  at  all  events  in  making  j  surmises  regarding  it  be  confirmed,  either 
an  exploration  of  the  ridge  above  us.  I  '■^^urn  ourselves,  or  put  some  hardy  adven- 

Accordingly,  ascending°to  the  summit  of  i  turer  in  possession  of  the  secret.  If  this 
the  hill— which  was  densely  covered  with  I  were  indeed  gold,  it  must  of  course  have 
a  wood  somewhat  resembling  ash,  though  '  its  source  in  some  mine  in  the  vicinity, 
not*  so  large— we  made  out  the  uplands  and  this  important  discovery  alone,  we  felt: 
here  to  cover  an  area  of  five  miles  in  1  would  amply  compensate  us  for  all  we  had 
breadth  by  twenty  in  length,  running  al- 1  dared  and  sutTered  in  venturing  hither, 
most  due  north  and  south,  and  composed  !  The  next  morning,  like  each  of  the  pro- 
of two  parallel  ridges,  full  of  springs  of  i  ceding,  being  clear  and  serene,  we  resolv- 
fine  water,  some  of  which  ran  outward  {  ed  to  deppit,  and  again  try  our  fortunes, 
and  formed  the  stream  we  had  first  gained,  j  Looking  toward  the  west,  vv-e  beheld  in  the 
and  others  inward,  forming  another  in  the  1  distance  another  camping  ground,  and  has- 
valley  between,  both  of  which,  taking  a  I  tening  down  the  western  slope  of  the  hills, 
southerly  course,  united  on  the  way,  and  we  made  our  way  directly  towards  it,  ovei:, 
entered  at  last  into  a  beautiful  lake,  bare- 1  a  slightly  undulating  country,  less  sterile 
ly  visible  from  the  highest  point,  and  I  in  its  appearance  than  the  desert  we  had 
which  also  appeared  the  grand  reservoir  of  ]  crossed  the  previous  week.  We  were  not 
the  surrounding  country.  j  able  to  reach  it  till  after  nightfall,  and  suf- 

Our  present  locality  was  a  rich  and  j  fered  more  or  less  through  the  day  for 
beautiful  desert  island,  and  had  our  horses  i  want  of  water.  Here  we  again  found  a 
been  here,  they  would  have  fared  sumptu- 1  rich  soil,  wooded  with  what  I  believe  is 
ously  on  the  green,  luxuriant  grass  of  the  ;  termed  the  sage  tree,  and  watered  by  sev- 
valley.  To  the  best  of  our  judgment, ;  eral  delightful  springs  and  streams,  in 
this  spot  had  never  before  been  visited  by  i  some  of  which  we  bathed,  and  of  which 
human  being,  as  no  signs  indicative  there- 1  we  drank,  much  to  our  relief, 
of  could  be  found.  The  only  game  we  Tofollowup  our  progress  in  detail,  would 
could  discover,  were  a  few  ground  animals  I  be  to  take  up  more  space  than  can  now  be 
resembling  the  rabbit,  and  some  gay  plu- ;  spared  for  the  purpose,  and,  in  a  great 
maged  birds.  We  killed  a  few  of  each,  and  j  measure,  to  repeat,  with  trifling  variations, 
on  dressing  and  cooking  them,  found  their  j  what  I  have  already  given, 
flavor,  especially  the  former,  very  delicious  I  Suffice  it,  therefore,  that  our  journey 
and  nutritive.  |  was  continued  day  after  day — sometimes 

In  this  manner  we  spent  a  week  on  <  over  sandy  deserts  of  two  days'  travel, 
Mount  Hope,  as  we  termed  the  ridge,  ma- 1  which  blistered  our  feet,  and  where  we 
king  explorations,  killing  game,  &c.,  and  i  again  sufTered  all  the  horrors  of  burning 
at  the  end  of  this  time  found  our  wonted]  thirst — sometimes  over  rough,  dangerous 
health  and  spirits  nearly  restored.  We  j  and  volcanic  grounds,  along  side  of  giddy 
knew  not  what  was  before  us,  it  is  true;  |  precipices, and yawningchasms,andadowa 
but  as  kind  Providence  had  almost  miracu- 1  steep  declivities,  where  a  single  misstep 
lously  preserved  us  through  so  many  dan-  i  would  have  been  fatal — sometimes  across 
gers,  we  no  longer  had  dread  of  our  jour- j  streams  too  deep  to  ford,  and  which  we 
ney,  nor  fears  of.  safely  reaching  the  val- '  were  obliged  to  swim — ^subsisting,  a  part 


108 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


'>f  the  way,  on  roots  and  such  game  as  we 
could  kill,  (our  supply  of  jerk  having  giv- 
on  out)  and  sleeping  at  night  on  the  sands, 
in  the  open  air,  or  perhaps  under  the  shel- 
ter of  some  overhanging  rock — occasion- 
iilly  drenched  with  a  storm  of  cold  rain, 
without  a  fire  to  dry  our  wet  garments, 
and  suffering  more  or  less  from  hunger, 
;ind  drought,  and  weariness,  and  violent 
rheumatic  pains. 

Such  was  our  pilgrimage,  over  an  unex- 
plored country;  and  yet  through  all  our 
sufferings,  save  the  first,  when  we  lost  our 
horses,  our  spirits  were  almost  ever  buoy- 
ant, and  we  experienced  a  rapturous  de- 
light known  only  to  the  adventurer. 

Some  six  weeks  from  our  leaving  the 
Wahsatch  range,  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
lofty  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  which 
we  hailed  with  a  shout  of  joy,  similar  to 
that  of  the  sailor  discovering  land  after  a 
long,  tedious  voyage,  and  which  avv^oke 
echoes  in  a  wilderness  never  before  dis- 
turbed by  the  human  voice.  Five  hundred 
miles  of  an  unknown  region  had  been  pass- 
ed, almost  the  whole  distance  on  foot,  and 
now  we  stood  in  full  view  of  our  long 
looked  for  desideratum.  During  this  time 
we  had  seen  not  a  human  being — always 
excepting  our  unfortunate  friends,  the 
Diggers— which  led  us  to  the  inference, 
that  the  larger  portion  of  this  Great  In- 
terior Basin  was  uninhabited — or,  at  all 
events,  very  thinly  peopled. 

From  this  point  to  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
our  course  now  lay  over  a  rough,  moun- 
tainous country,  well  watered  and  timber- 
ed; and  on  the  second  day,  we  came  upon 
one  or  two  miserable,  dilapidated  huts — 
which,  from  all  appearance,  had  long  been 
untenanted — and  a  mile  or  two  farther  on, 
saw  a  small  party  of  savages,  who,  on  dis- 
covering our  approach,  fled  precipitately 
to  the  highlands — we  probably  being  the 
first  white  human  beings  they  had  ever  be- 
held. 

About  noon  of  the  third  day  we  came  to 
i  beautiful  lake,  and  going  around  it, 
reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain  chain 
bounding  the  Great  Basin  on  the  west, 
just  as  the  sun,  taking  his  diurnal  farewell 
of  the  snowy  peaks  above  us,  seemingly 
transforthed    then,   by    his   soft,  crimson 


light,  into  huge  pillars  of  burnished  gold. 
We  now  considered  ourselves  compari- 
tively  safe,  though  by  no  means  out  of  dan- 
ger; for  our  route,  over  these  mighty 
erections  of  nature,  we  were  well  aware 
must  be  one  of  extreme  peril.  Unlike  the 
desert,  we  might  not  suffer  for  want  of  wa- 
ter— but,  unlike  the  desert  too,  we  might 
with  cold,  snows,  storms,  and  from  hostile 
savages. 

Ou  the   succeeding  day  we   began  our 

ascent.      Up,  up,  up  we  toiled — through 

dense  thickets  of  dwarfish,  shrubby  trees — 

through  creeping  vines,  full  of  brambles, 

that  lacerated  our  ankles  and  feet,  (we  had 

long  been  shoeless,) — up,  up,  up  the  feteep 

j  mountain  sides  we  struggled — over  rocks 

I  which  sometimes  formed  precipices  that 

;  only  yielded  us  here  and  there  a  danger- 

I  ous  foot-hold — occasionally  leaping  across 

I  canons,  in  which  the  torrent  of  the  moun- 

I  tain  rolled  murmuring  over  its  rocky  bed 

!  a  thousand  feet  below  us, — on,  on,  up  and 

I  on  we  pressed  eagerly — sometimes  suffer- 

I  ing  with  fatigue,  and  with  cold,  and  with 

j  hunger — up  and  on  we  bent  our  steps,  for 

two,  long,  wearisome  days,  ere  we  reached 

the  regions  of  eternal  snow. 

At  last  we  stood  upon  the  very  back- 
bone of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  ten  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea,  surrounded  by  a  few 
cedars,  loaded  with  snow  and  ice,  the  for- 
mer underneath  us  to  the  depth  of  many 
feet — and  gazed  downward,  far,  far  below 
us,  upon  the  broad,  barren  plains,  fertile 
uplands,  lovely  valleys,  and  bright,  silver 
streams  and  lakes — with  feelings  that  are 
indescribable. 

A  mile  or  two  farther  on,  we  came  to  a 
pleasant  valley,  through  which  rolled  a 
beautiful  stream.  Here,  collecting  a 
supply  of  drift-wood,  we  kindled  a  bright 
fire,  and  disposing  ourselves  around  it, 
toasted  our  already  swollen  and  frost  bit- 
ten feet,  made  oul^supper  of  a  few  roots 
and  berries  which  we  had  collected  on  the 
way,  and  occupied  most  of  the  night  in 
constructing  some  rude  moccasins  out  of 
a  quarter  buffalo  robe  which  we  fortunate- 
ly had  brought  with  us. 

Thus  for  several  days  did  we  continue 
our  perilous  journey — passing  through 
scenes  of  danger  and    hardship,  that,  if 


OR,  ADVENTQ  RES    IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


109 


detailed,  would  fill  a  volume — sustained,  in 
all  our  trials,  by  a  holy  Being,  to  whom  we 
daily  and  nightly  gave  the  sincere  orisons 
of  grateful  hearts. 

Once,  during  our  mountain  journey,  we 
came  very  nigh  being  buried  in  a  furious 
snow  storm;  and  but  for  the  providential 
shelter  of  an  Indian  hut,  ere  darkness  set- 
tled around  us,  this  narrative  in  all  proba- 
bility had  ^ever  been  written.  The  hut 
in  question,  stood  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  was  constructed  of  sticks,  wil- 
lows and  rushes,  well  braided  together,  in 
shape  not  unlike  a  modern  bee-hive.  The 
tenants  were  an  Indian,  his  squaw,  and 
two  half-grown  children,  all  miserable  and 
filthy  in  their  appearance.  Our  sudden 
entry  (for  we  did  not  stop  for  etiquette) 
alarmed  them  terribly,  and  they  screeched 
and  drew  back,  and  huddled  themselves  in 
the  farthest  corner.  However,  on  making 
them  friendly  signs,  and  intimating  v/e 
only  sought  protection  from  the  storm, 
they  became  reassured,  and  offered  us  some 
nuts  of  a  pleasant  flavor,  peculiar  to  the 
country,  and  which,  as  I  learned,  formed 
their  principal  food.  We  spent  the  night 
v.'ith  them,  and  were  treated  with  hospi- 
tality. 

On  leaving,  I  presented  the  host  with  a 
pocket-knife,  which  he  received  with  an 
ejaculation  of  delight,  and  examined  cu- 
riously. On  opening  it,  and  showing  him 
its  uses,  his  joy  increased  to  such  a  degree, 
that,  by  signs,  he  immediately  volunteered 
to  act  as  guide,  and  was  accepted  by  us 
without  hesitation.  He  proved  of  great 
service,  in  showing  us  the  shortest  and 
best  route  over  the  mountains,  and  as  a 
kind  of  body  guard  against  other  savages, 
whom  we  now  occasionally  met,  but  whom 
he  restrained  from  approaching  us  with  any 
undue  familiarity. 

On  arriving  in  sight  of  Sutter's  settle- 
ment— situated  near  the  junction  of  the 
Rio  Sacramento  and  Rio  de  los  America- 
nos, or  River  of  the  Americans — we  gave 
a  wild  shout  of  joy,  and  our  guide  made 
signs  that  he  would  go  no  farther.  As  he 
had  been  with  us  several  days,  and  had 
proved  so  faithful,  we  could  not  bear  he 
should  part  from  us  without  a  further  tes- 
timonial of  our  generosity  and  gratitude. 


Accordingly,  drawing  from  my  belt  a  sil- 
ver mounted  pistol,  I  discharged  it,  show- 
ed him  how  to  load  and  fire  it,  and  then 
presented  it  to  him,  together  with  a  belt- 
knife  and  a  good  supply  of  powder  and 
ball;  and  he  went  back  with  all  the  pride 
of  an  emperor  marching  from  the  conquest 
of  another  kingdom. 

Hurrying  forward,  with  feelings  which 
are  indescribable,  we  passed  through  a  beau- 
tiful valley,  green  with  blade  and  bright 
with  flowers — through  an  Indian  village, 
where  every  person  appeared  neat  and 
comfortable,  and  well  disposed  toward  us 
— and  at  last,  ascending  a  slight  emi- 
nence, just  as  day  was  closing,  beheld  be- 
fore us,  not  half  a  mile  distant,  an  Ameri- 
can fortress,  though  in  a  Mexican  country 
and  garrisoned  by  Indians. 

In  fifteen  minutes  more  we  had  passed 
the  dusky  sentinel  at  the  gate,  and  enter- 
ed an  asylum  of  rest  fi'om  our  long  pilgrim- 
age. We  were  received  by  Capt.  Sutter 
himself,  who, gal^iering  only  a  brief  outline 
of  our  adventures  and  sufferings,  express- 
ed surprise  to  see  us  here  alive,  shook  our 
hands  with  all  the  warm-heartedness  of 
an  American  friend,  and  gave  us  a  most 
cordial  invitation  to  make  his  citadel  our 
home,  so  long  as  we  might  feel  disposed 
to  remain  in  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OUR    APPEARANCE SUTTER   AND   FORT  — 

LEAVE  IN   THE    SPRING REFLECTIONS A 

YEAR   PASSED   OVER ON  OUR   RETURN — 

THE   ANTELOPE  —  CHASE  —  LOSS    OF    MY 

FRIEND TERRIBLE    FEARS DESPAIR 

FEARFUL  RESULTS,  ETC. 

Worn-out  and  starved-out — our  garments 
all  in  tatters — our  frames  emaciated — our 
faces  long,  thin  and  sallow — with  sunken 
eyes  and  a  beard  of  some  two  months' 
growth — we  presented  any  thing  but  an 
attractive  appearance  on  our  first  arrival 
at  Sutter's.  But  with  the  aid  of  soap  and 
water — a  keen  razor — new  raiment,  and  a 
couple  of  weeks'  rest — we  began  once 


110 


THE  PRAIRIE   FLOWER; 


more  to  resemble  civilized  beings,  and  feel 
like  ourselves. 

V  Captain  Sutter  we  found  to  possess  all 
the  refined  qualities  of  a  hospitable  Amer- 
ican gentleman.  He  had  emigrated  to 
this  country,  from  the  western  part  of 
Missouri,  a  year  or  two  previous  to  our 
arrival,  and  had  already  succeeded  in  es- 


It  v/as  some  time  between  the  first  and 
middle  of  May,  that,  mounted  upon  a  cou- 
ple of  fiery  horses,  which,  decked  off  with 
all  the  showy  trappings  of  two  complete 
Spanish  saddle  equipments, had  been  press- 
ed upon  us  as  a  present  by  our  generoua 
host,  we  bade  adieu  to  the  noble  hearted 
Captain    Sutter   and  family,  and   set  out 


ablishing  a  fort,  on  a  large  grant  of  land  i  upon  our  southern  journey. 


obtained  from  the  Mexican  government. 
ile  had  succeeded,  too,  in  subduing  and  ma- 
king good  citizens  the  surrounding  Indians, 
.iiany  of  whom  were  already  in  his  em- 
ploy— some  as  soldiers,  to  guard  his  for- 
rress — some  as  husbandmen,  to  till  his 
soil — and  some  as  vaqueros,  or  cow-herds, 
to  tend  upon  his  kine  and  cattle;  so  that 
.^very  thing  around  gave  indications  of  an 
industrious,  wealthy  and  prosperous  set- 
tler. 

The  fort  itself  was  a  large,  quadrangu- 
lar adobe  structure,  capable  of  being  garri- 
soned by  a  thousand  men — though  at  the 
lime  of  which  I  speak,  the  whole  force 
consisted  of  some  thirty  or  forty  Indians, 
in  uniform)  and  some  twenty-five  Ameri- 
un,  French  and  German  employes.  It 
mounted  some  ten  or  twelve  pieces  of  ord- 
nance, and  was  well  supplied  with  other 
munitions  of  war,  most  of  which,  together 
vitii  a  large  number  of  stock,  agricultural 
\nd   other   stores,  Sutter   had   purchased 


As  we  rode  along,  it  was  with  feelings 
of  pleasant  sadness  we  looked  back  over 
the  eventful  past,  and  rementbered  that 
about  this  time  a  year  ago,  two  gay  youths, 
fresh  from  college,  were  leavir^g  friends 
and  home  for  the  first  time,  to  venture 
they  scarce  knew  whither.  And  what  of 
those  friends  now]  Were  they  alive,  and 
well,  and  in  prosperity]  Had  their  thoughts 
been  much  on  the  wanderers]  Had  they 
i  looked  for  our  return]  Had  they  wept  in 
secret  for  our  absence,  and  prayed  daily 
for  our  preservation]  Ah!  yes,  wo  well 
knew  all  this  had  been  done;  and  the 
thought  that  we  were  still  keeping  them 
in  suspense — that  we  were  still  venturing 
farther  and  farther  away — could  not  but 
make  us  sad.  But,  withal,  as  I  said  be- 
fore, it  was  a  pleasant  sadness;  for  we  se- 
cretly felt  a  delight  in  going  over  new 
scenes — beholding  new  objects.  More- 
over, we  were  now  in  good  health;  our 
constitutions  felt  vigorous;  and  this  tended 


ii"om  a  neighboring  Russian  establishment, ;  to  raise  our  spirits. 


.irior  to  its  being  withdrawn  from  the 
country.  Its  internal  appearance — its  ar- 
rangement of  carpenter  and  blacksmith 
-hops,  store-rooms,  offices,  &c. — so  close- 
ly resembled  Fort  Laramie,  as  to  make 
further  description  unnecessary. 

Here  we  remained  through  the  winter, 
.1  musing  ourselves  in  various  ways — some- 
;imesin  hunting  among  the  mountains, 


What  an  eventful  year  had  the  past  one 
been!  Through  what  scenes  of  trial,  pri- 
vation, suffering  and  peril  had  we  not  pass- 
ed! And  yet,  amid  all,  how  had  we  been 
sustained  by  the  hand  of  Omnipotence! 
How  had  we  been  lifted  up  and  borne  for- 
ward over  the  quicksands  of  despair!  And 
when  all  appeared  an  endless,  rayless 
night,  how  had  our  trembling  souls  been 


■  '.cploring  the  country,  and  fishing  in  the  !  rejoiced  by  the  sudden  light  of  hope  beam- 
treams — and   at   others,  in   making  our- !  ing  upon  our  pathway,  and  showing  us  a 
selves   masters   of    the    Spanish   tongue,  |  haven  of  rest! 

which  was  spoken  by  many  of  the  Indians  j      But  where  would  another  year  find  us] 
and  all  of  the  natives.     This  last,  how- 1  In  what  quarter  of  the  habitable  globe. 


ever,  v/as  more  for  our  benefit  than  amuse- 
ment— as  we  had  determined  on  a  visit  to 
•he  seaport  places  in  the  lowei  latitudes 
of  Mexico,  so  soon  as  the  annual  spring 
rains,  being  over,  should  leave  the  ground 
in  a  {rood  condition  for  travellincr. 


and  under  what  circumstances]  Should 
we  be  among  the  living,  or  the  dead]  The 
dead!  What  a  solemn  thought,  to  think 
that  our  bones  might  be  reposing  in  the 
soil  of  the  stranger — thousands  of  miles 
from  all  we  loved,  and  from  all  that  loved 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


Ill 


us!  What  a  startling  idea!  And  yet,  in 
our  journeyings,  how  indifferent,  how  care- 
less had  we  been  of  life!  With  what  fool- 
hardiness  had  we  even  dared  death  to  meet 
us!  And  still,  with  all  the  frightful  warn- 
ings of  the  past  before  us,  how  recklessly 
were  we  plunging  on  to  new  scenes  of 
danger!  Why  did  we  not  turn  now,  and  j 
bend  our  steps  homeward?  Had  we  not 
seen  enough,  suffered  enough,  to  satisfy 
the  craving  desires  of  youth?  j 

Home!  What  a  blessed  word  of  a  thou-  j 
sand  joys!  With  what  pleasing  emotions] 
the  thought  would  steal  upon  our  senses! ' 
What  a  world  of  affection  v/as  centered  I 
there!  What  happy  faces  the  thought  re- 1 
called,  and  how  we  longed  to  behold  them! 
Longed,  yet  took  the  very  course  to  put 
time  and  distance  between  us  and  them!} 
And  this  to  gratify  what  our  sober  reason  ] 
told  us  was  only  a  foolish,  boyish  passion  [ 
— a  craving  love  of  adventure!  ' 

Home!     In  that  word  I  beheld  the  loved 
faces  of  my  parents.     In  that  word  I  be- 
held the  welcome  visages  of  my  friends,  j 
In  that  word,  more  than  all,  I  beheld  the  i 
sweet,  melancholy  countenance  of  Lilian!  ] 

Lilian!  How  this  name  stirred  th«^  se-  | 
^cret  emotions  of  a  passionate  soul!  Had 
I  forgotten  her]  Had  I,  through  all  the  j 
varied  scenes  I  had  passed,  for  a  moment ; 
lost  sight  of  her  lovely  countenance — of  i 
her  sweet  eyes  beaming  upon  me  the 
warm  affections  of  an  ardent  soul?  No! 
I  had  not  forgot,  I  never  could  forget,  her. 
She  was  woven  among  the  fibi*es  of  my 
existence.  To  tear  her  hence,  would  be 
to  rend  and  shatter  the  soul  itself.  Thou- 
sands of  miles  away,  she  was  not  absent. 
She  was  with  me  in  all  my  trials,  suffer- 
ings and  perils.  Present  by  day,  with  her 
eyes  of  love.  Hovering  around  me  in  the 
still  watches  of  night,  as  it  were  the  guar- 
dian angel  of  my  destiny.  Lilian  was 
loved.  Time  and  distance  proved  it. — 
Loved  with  a  heart  that  could  never  for- 
sake— never  so  love  another.  I  had  done 
her  wrong.  But  should  God  spare  my  life, 
and  permit  us  again  to  meet,  how  quickly, 
by.  every  means  in  my  power,  would  I 
strive  to  repair  it. 

Such  and  similar  were  our  thoughts,  as 
we  again  bent  our  steps  upon  a  long  jour- ! 


ney.  But  I  will  not  test  your  patience, 
reader,  with  more.  Neither  am  I  going 
to  weary  you  with  a  long  detail  of  common- 
place events.  In  other  words,  I  am  not 
going  to  descri^'e  our  journey  to  the  south. 
Like  similar  journeys,  it  was  full  of  fa- 
tigue, with  here  and  there  an  incident,  or 
a  curiosity,  perhaps  a  danger — which,  were 
I  making  an  ofhcial  report  to  government, 
would  be  necessary  to  note — but  over 
which  you,  doubtless,  would  yawn  and  call 
the  writer  stupid.  t 

Suffice  it,  then,  that  with  me  you  let  £ 
year  pass  unnoted.  That  you  imagine  us 
having  gone  a  thousand  miles  into  the 
heart  of  Mexico,  and,  heartily  sick  and 
disgusted  with  our  travels,  the  people,  and 
for  the  most  part  the  country,  you  now 
find  us  on  our  glad  journey  to  the  north — 
fully  determined,  in  our  own  minds,  from 
this  time  forward,  to  let  such  as  choose,  go 
among  barbarians  worse  than  savages,  so 
they  seek  not  us  for  companions.  From 
this  sweeping  clause  of  condemnation,  let 
me  save  the  Mexican  ladies;  who,  for  the 
most  part,  exercise  Christian  virtues,  wor- 
thy of  a  better  fate  than  being  yoked  and 
bound  to  such  lazy,  filthy,  treacherous 
brutes  as  hold  over  them  the  dominion  of 
lord  and  master.  But  enough!  The  bare 
thought  of  the  latter  puts  mein'a  passion; 
and  so  to  get  an  even  temper  once  more, 
let  me  consign  them  to  oblivious  contempt. , 

You  will  fancy,  then,  that  a  year  has 
passed,  and  that  we,  having  so  far  escaped 
with  our  lives,  are  now  on  our  return  to 
Upper  California,  tkence  to  shape  our  route 
to  Oregon,  and  then,  ho!  for  the  far  dis- 
tant land  of  our  childhood. 

Little  did  we  dream  in  that  happy  mu- 
ment  of  contemplation,  of  the  terrible  ca- 
lamity about  to  befall  us.  Little  did  v.'e 
think  that  our  hearts,  bright  v/ith  hope  and 
joy,  were  soon  to  be  clouded  with  wo  un- 
utterable— grief  inconsolable.  And  why 
should  we]  We  who  had  been  through 
so  many  perils,  and  made  so  many  miracu- 
lous escapes,  where  death  seemed  inevit- 
able— why  should  we  now,  comparatively 
safe,  already  on  our  return,  for  a  moment 
harbor  the  thought  that  a  misfortune,  be- 
fore which  all  we  had  suffered  sunk  into 
insignificance,  was  impending  us?     How 


112 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


little  does  man  know  Iijs  destiny!  Poor, 
blind  mortal!  what  presumption  in  him  to 
attempt  to  read  the  scroll  of  fate!  But 
let  me  not  anticipate. 

It  was  a  bright,  warm  day  in  the  spring 
of  1842,  that  we  arrived  at  Pueblo  de  los 
Angelos,  where  the  Great  Spanish  Trail 
comes  in  from  Santa  Fe.  We  had  been 
on  the  move  day  after  day  for  nearly  a 
month,  during  which  time  we  had  travelled 
some  five  hundred  miles,  and  our  horses 
were  very  much  fatigued  in  consequence. 
Besides,  their  shoes  being  worn  out  and 
their  feet  sore,  we  resolved  to  remain  here 
a  few  days,  to  have  them  shod,  recruited, 
and  put  in  a  good  travelling  condition, 
while  our  time  was  to  be  spent  in  hunt- 
ing, and  examining  the  country  round 
about. 

Giving  our  beasts  in  charge  of  a  re- 
sponsible person,  with  orders  to  see  them 
well  attended  to,  we  set  forward  with  our 
rifles,  and  taking  the  Spanish  Trail,  which 
here  ran  due  east  and  west,  we  followed  it  ! 
some  two  miles,  and  then  leaving  it  to  the  ! 
right,  struck  otFinto  the  mountains  knov/n 
as  the  Coast  Range. 

About  noon  we  came  to  a  point  where 
the  country  assumed  a  very  rough  and 
wild  appearance.  Cliff  upon  cliff  rose 
one  over  the  other,  above  which,  still,  a  few 
peaks  shot  up  far  heavenward,  capped  with 
everlasting  snows.  Tremenduous  preci- 
pices, deep  caverns,  and  wild  gorges,  could 
be  seen  on  every  hand,  full  of  danger  to 
the  unwary  explorer. 

Making  a  halt,  we  were  already  debating 
whether  to  advance  or  retrace  our  steps, 
when,  as  if  to  decide  and  lure  us  forward, 
a  fine  antelope  was  discovered  on  a  rock 
above  us,  not  over  a  hundred  yards  distant, 
coolly  eyeing  us  from  his  supposed  safe 
retreat.  Scarce  a  moment  elapsed,  so 
quick  were  the  motions  of  each,  ere  our 
pieces,  speaking  together,  told  him  too 
late  of  his  error.  He  was  wounded,  this 
we  could  see,  but  not  enough  to  prevent 
his  flight,  and  he  turned  and  bounded  over 
the  rocks  up  the  steep. 

"By  heavens!  Frank,"  cried  Huntly, 
with  enthusiasm,  "  here  is  sport  in  earnest. 
Nothing  to  do  but  give  chase.  He  must 
not  escape  us.     Dart  you  up  the  mountain, 


while  I,  by  going  round,  will  perhaps  head 
him  off  on  the  other  side.  At  all  events, 
j  we  will  soon  meet  again." 
j  On  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  sprang 
forward  in  one  direction  and  Huntly  in  an- 
I  other.  To  the  great  danger  of  my  neck, 
I  clambered  up  the  steep  acclivity,  over 
'  precipitous  rocks,  gaping  fissures,  and 
through  a  dense  brushwood,  and  stood  at 
last  upon  the  spot  where  we  had  first  seen 
the  goat.  Here  was  a  small  pool  of  blood, 
and  a  bloody  trail  marked  the  course  of 
the  animal;  and  I  pressed  on  again,  right- 
ly judging,  from  the  quantity  of  blood  left 
behind,  that  he  could  not  hold  out  any 
great  distance.  But  the  distance  proved 
farther  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  half  an 
hour  found  me  completely  out  of  breath, 
on  the  brow  of  one  of  the  lower  ridges, 
without  having  come  in  sight  of  the  ante- 
lope. Here  the  trail,  more  bloody  than 
ever,  took  a  downward  course,  and  I  count- 
ed on  finding  the  chase  between  me  and 
the  foot  of  the  hill.  At  this  moment  I 
heard, as  I  fancied,  the  shout  of  my  friend; 
and  thinking  it  one  of  delight,  on  being 
the  first  to  reach  the  goat,  I  gave  an  an- 
swering one  of  joy,  and  descended  rapidly 
on  the  red  trail. 

Within  fifty  yards  of  the  valley,  I  dis- 
covered the  object  of  my  search,  lying  on 
his  side,  pierced  by  two  bullets,  and  in 
the  last  agonies  of  death.  Applying  my 
knife  to  his  throat,  I  made  an  end  of  his 
sufferings,  and  then  looked  eagerly  around 
for  my  friend.  He  was  no  where  to  be 
seen.  I  called — but  no  answer.  This 
somewhat  surprised  me,  as  I  felt  certain 
of  having  heard  his  voice  in  this  direction. 
Thinking  he  could  not  be  far  off,  I  repeat- 
ed  his  name  at  the  top  of  my  lungs,  but 
with  no  better  success. 

Although  somewhat  alarmed,  I  consoled 
myself  by  thinking  I  must  have  been  mis- 
taken in  the  sound  I  had  heard,  and  that 
at  all  events  he  would  soon  ma'ie  his  ap- 
pearance. With  this,  I  seated  myself  on 
the  ground,  and  throwing  the  breech  of 
my  rifle  down  the  mountain,  occupied  my- 
self in  loading  it. 

Minute  after  minute  went  by,  but  no 
Huntly  appeared,  and  I  began  to  grow  ex- 
ceedingly uneasy.     For  a  while  I  fancied 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


113 


he  might  be  watching  me  from  some  near 
covert,  just  to  note  the  effect  of  his  ab- 
sence; but  when  a  half  hour  had  rolled 
around,  and  nothing  had  been  seen  nor 
heard  of  him,  I  became  alarmed  in  earnest. 
Springing  to  my  feet,  I  shouted  his 
name  several  times,  with  all  the  accents 
of  fright  and  despair.  Thea  darting  down 
to  the  valley,  I  ran  around  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  making  the  woods  echo  with  my 
calls  at  every  step.  In  half  an  hour  more 
I  had  gained  the  point  where  we  parted — 
but  still  no  Huntly.  God  of  mercy!  who 
can  describe  my  feelings  then!  Nearly 
frantic,  I  retraced  my  steps,  shouting  until 
my  lungs  were  sore — but,  alas!  with  no 
better  success.  There  lay  the  antelope, 
as  I  had  left  it,  showing  that  no  one  had 
been  here  during  my  absence. 

Until  the  shades  of  night  began  to  set- 
tle over  the  earth,  I  continued  my  almost 
frantic  search;  and  then,  thinking  it  pos- 
sible Huntly  might  have  returned  to  the 
settlement,  I  set  out  for  los  Angelos,  with 
the  speed  and  feelings  of  a  madman. 
''-^  When  I  arrived  there,  it  had  long  been 
night.  To  my  eager  inquiries,  each  and 
all  shook  their  heads,  and  replied  that  my 
friend  had  not  been  seen  since  we  departed 
in  the  morning.  Who  could  describe,  who 
imagine,  my  anguish  on  hearing  this! — 
Huntly,  mv  bosom  companion,  was  lost. 
Captured  it  might  be  by  guerrillas,  or  by 
^  Indians.  Destroyed,  perhaps,  by  some 
wild  beast,  or  by  falling  down  some  preci- 
pice, or  into  some  chasm.  Gone  he  was, 
most  certainly;  and  I  wrung  my  hands  in 
terrible  agony,  and  called  wildly  upon  his 
name,  though  I  knew  he  could  not  hear 
me.  So  great  was  my  distress,  it  excited 
the  pity  of  the  spectators,  several  of  whom 
volunteered  to  go  back  with  me  and  search 
for  him  with  torches.  The  proposition  I 
accepted  eagerly,  and  that  night  the  moun- 
tains sparkled  with  flaming  lights,  and 
their  deep  recesses  resounded  the  name  of 
my  friend,  and  cries  of  anguish.  All  night 
long  we  searched  faithfully,  and  shouted 
with  all  our  might.  But,  alas!  all  to  no 
avail.  My  friend  came  not — answered 
not — perhaps  never  would  again. 

When  daylight  once  more  lighted  that 
fatal  spot,  ^EL(J  those   who  had   assisted 


me,  declared  it  useless  to  search  long- 
er— that  Huntly  was  either  dead  or  a  pri- 
soner— my  anguish  e.xceeded  the  strength 
of  my  reason  to  bear,  and  I  became  a  ra- 
ving maniac. 

For  two  months  from  that  date,  I  had 
no'  knowledge  of  what  transpired;  and 
when,  by  the  grace  of  God,  consciousness 
again  returned,  I  found  myself  in  a  feeble 
state,  a  close  prisoner  at  Pueblo  de  los 
Angelos. 

To  a  noble  hearted  Me.xican  lady,  wife 
of  a  Mexican  military  officer,  for  her  kind- 
ness to,  and  care  of,  a  forlorn  stranger,  is 
due  a  debt  of  gratitude,  which  perhaps  I 
may  never  have  power  to  cancel, but  which, 
it  is  my  daily  prayer,  may  be  found  written 
upon  the  eternal  pages  of  the  Great  Book 
of  All-Good. 

In  June,  a  sad,  emaciated,  almost  heart- 
broken being,  I  resumed  my  journey  to  the 
north.  But  alas!  alas!  poor  Charles 
Huntly!  His  fate  was  still  unknown. — 
His  last  words  to  me,  spoken  gaily,  "  At 
all  events,  we  sliall  soon  meet  again"  had 
never  been  fulfilled. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ON  THE  KOCKT  MOUNTAINS  —  HOMEWARD 
BOUND SAD  REFLECTIONS RAPID  DE- 
SCENT  TWO     ENCAMPMENTS MEET    OLD 

FRIENDS  —  INCOG. THEIR      FRIENDSHIP 

TESTED— MAKE  MYSELF  KNOWN — FRAN- 
TIC JOT — VISIT  THE  SICK — PAINFUL  AND 
UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

I  stood  upon  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  I  stood  upon  that  point  of 
land  which  divides  the  rivers  of  the  At- 
lantic from  the  Pacific  oceans.  Upon  that 
mighty  barrier,  which  bids  its  gushing  riv- 
ulets roll  eastward  and  westward.  Where, 
springing  from  the  same  source,  as  chil- 
dren from  the  same  parents,  they  are  sepa- 
rated by  the  hand  of  fate,  to  end  their 
course  thousands  of  miles  apart. 

I  stood  upon  the  great  dividing  ridge  of 
the  North  American  Continent,  and  cast 
my  eyes  over  a  mighty  expanse  of  terri- 
tory.    But  with  what  feelings  did  I  gaze 


114 


THE  PRAIRIR  FLOWER; 


around  me!     Were  they  feelings  of  joy? 
No  I  they  could  not  be  joyous.     There  was 
one  absent  from  my  side,  that  made  them 
sad.     I  needed  the  bright  eye,  noble  face, 
commanding  form,  warm  heart  and  strong 
hand   of    one  who  was  now  perhaps  no 
more.     Had  he  been  by — my  now  melan- 
choly gaze  had  been  one  of  intoxicating, 
enthusiastic  rapture.      In    every   hill,   in  ] 
every  tree,  in  every  rock,  in  every  rill,  I  j 
would  have  beheld  something  to  make  my  ( 
heart  bound  with  delight— ;/br  now  I  v:as  j 
homeward  hound.  j 

What  a  strange  creature  is  man!  It  is 
said  that  he  sees  with  his  eyes — but  I  con- 
tend that  his  heart  gives  color  to  his  vision. 
If  not,  why  do  the  same  scenes,  unchang- 
ed in  their  appearance,  to  liim  present  dif- 
ferent aspects?  Why  does  that  which  to- 
day he  beholds  cotUeur  de  rose,  to-morrow 
wear  the  sable  hue  of  gloom?  Is  not  the 
scene  the  same?  Are  not  his  eyes  the 
same!  Ay!  but  yesterday  his  heart  was 
light  and  bounding  with  joy — to-day  it  is 
dark  and  oppressed  with  grief.  All  the 
change,  then,  lies  in  the  heart. 

Yes!  here  I  stood — alone — my  face  set 
eastward — my  steps  bent  to  the  still  far 
distant  land  of  my  youth.  What  had  I 
not  been  through,  what  had  I  not  suffered, 
since  quitting  that  roof  under  which  I  had 
known  nothing  but  happiness  and  ease? 
In  little  more  than  two  years,  I  felt  I  had 
lived  an  age,  and  even  fancied  my  hair 
growing  gray  at  twenty-two. 

Yes!  I  was  wending  my  way  to  my  native 
land;  but  should  God  permit  me  to  reach 
there  alive,  what  an  unenviable  lot  was 
mine,  to  make  the  home  of  my  friend  the 
house  of  lamentation  and  wo!  And  Lilian, 
dear  Lilian — to  whom,  would  to  God,  I  could 
bring  nothing  but  joy — I  must  be  doomed, 
too,  to  make  her  weep,  to  fill  her  bright  eyes 
with  tears,  and  robe  her  fair  form  in  funer- 
al weeds.  Alas!  alas!  what  bitter  neces- 
sity! How  my  soul  groaned  in  anguish 
at  the  thought,  until  1  envied  the  supposed 
cold  death-sleep  of  him  I  wept. 

Such  were  some  of  my  thoughts  and 
feelings,  as  I  commenced  descending  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I 
have  said  nothing  of  my  route  hither,  since 
leaving  Pueblo  de  los  Angelos,  and  for  the 


very  reason  there  was  little  or  nothing  to- 
say.  My  horse  had  borne  me  hither;  my 
hand  had  guided  him;  my  food  had  been 
such  as  came  in  my  way;  my  sleep  had 
been  mostly  upon  the  hard  earth  in  the 
open  air;  my  route  had  occasionally  been 
pointed  out  to  rae — occasionally  had  been 
taken  at  a  venture:  I  had  sometimes  had 
companions — sometimes  had  travelled  by 
myself:  and,  lastly,  I  was  here  now,  alone, 
and  that  wa-s  the  most  I  knew.  Oppress- 
ed with  a  burden  of  grief  almost  insup- 
portable, I  had  taken  little  note  of  exter- 
nal objects.  With  a  sort  of  instinct,  I 
had,  day  after  day,  pursued  my  journey, 
perfectly  reckless  of  that  life  which  to  me 
seemed  more  an  afiiiction  than  a  comfort. 
I  had  been  surrounded  by  dangers  at  all 
times;  I  had  been  less  cautious  than  pre- 
viously in  guarding  against  them;  and  yet 
here  I  was — alive — in  fair  bodily  health — 
preserved  how,  and  for  what  purpose,  God 
only  knew. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  August,  and 
the  day  was  clear  and  cold.  The  sun, 
some  three  hours  advanced  towards  noon, 
streamed  over  the  scene  his  bright  light, 
but  without  much  apparent  warmth.  The 
north  wind,  sweeping  down  from  the  icy 
peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  loom- 
ing up  in  rugged  masses  away  to  the  left, 
seemed  to  chill  my  very  blood;  and  spur- 
ring my  noble  horse  onward,  I  dashed  down 
the  long  slope  before  me  at  a  fast  gallop. 

A  little  after  nightfall,  I  came  to  a  ro- 
mantic valley,  shut  in  by  hills,  through 
which  a  bright  stream  rolled,  and  foamed, 
and  murmured  over  its  rocky  bed.  Here 
I  beheld  the  fires  of  two  encampments. 
The  one  nearest  the  bank  of  the  river,  was 
evidently  a  party  of  emigrants;  for  by  the 
dim  light,  I  could  just  trace  the  white  out- 
line of  several  covered  wagons,  and  a  few 
dark,  moving  objects  near  them,  which  I 
took  to  be  their  animals.  I  could  also  see 
a  few  figures  flitting  to  and  fro,  some  round 
the  fire-lights,  and  some  more  distant — 
engaged,  to  all  appearance,  in  preparing 
the  evening's  repast,  and  settling  them- 
selves down  for  the  night.  The  other  en- 
campment, separated  from  the  first  some 
thirty  or  forty  rods,  consisted  of  only  one 
fire,  around  which  were  squatted  a  small 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


11 


group  of  mountaineers.  To  this  I  directed  i  masther,  that's  dead  and  gone,  pace  to  his 
my  horse,  and,  on  coming  up,  said:  j  bones.      Ochone!    this  is  a  sorry  world, 

"  Gentlemen,  will  you  permit  a  solitary   so  it  is." 
traveller  to  mess  with  you  for  the  night.'"  i      "  How  she  looked,  when  she  axed  for  a 

"  Well,  we  won't  do  nothin  else,"  re-  j  doctor  of  me,"  observed  another.  "  Ef 
plied  a  voice,  which  I  fancied  was  not  un- 1  I  hadn't  left  soon,  I'd  a  done  somethin 
familiar  to  me.  !  womanish,  sartin." 

Although  this  answer  signified  I  was  j  "  Augh!"  grunted  Black  George,  knock- 
welcome  to  join  them,  yet  not  a  man  mo-  ing  the  ashes  from  his  pipe;  "  sich  sights 
ved,nor  appeared  to  notice  me  at  all.  This,  i  as  them  aint  iit  for  us  mountainers." 
however, did  not  disconcert  me  in  the  least,  '<  "  Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  friends!" 
as  I  knew  so  well  the  morose,  semi-social ;  I  now  inquired,  deeply  interested, 
habits  of  the  mountaineer,  that,  to  gain  a  j  "A  beauthiful  lady,  sir,  and  her  mother 
grunt  of  assent  to  my  request,  was  theut- 1  as  is  sick,"  replied  Teddy,  turning  toward 
raost^I  could  expect.    I  therefore  dismount-   me  an  eager  look. 

ed,  and  approaching  the  fire,  scrutinized  I  I  instantly  shaded  my  face  with  my  hand, 
the  faces  of  the  party  closely,  as,  rolling ,  as  if  to  keep  off  the  heat,  and  saw  I  was 
out  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  they  remain-    not  recognized. 

ed  fixed  like  posts  in  a  circle,  their  eyes  ap- 1  "  And  where  is  the  lady  you  speak  of?" 
parently  seeing  nothing  but  the  flames.  "  In  the  wagin,  yonder.  The  ould  lady 
Judge  of  my  astonishment,  reader,  on  dis- { is  sick,  £.nd  they've  not  a  spalpeen  of  a 
covering  in  this  party  of  five,  two  of  my  i  docthor  among  'em,  and  the  young  miss  is 
old  acquaintances — Black  George  and  !  crying  like  she'd  break  her  heart,  poor 
Teddy  O'Lagherty.  My  first  impulse  was  '  thing!  For  the  matter  of  that,  there's 
to  spring  forward,  and  make  myself  known  '  two  young  females,  now,  that's  crying — 
at  once.  But  on  second  thought,  I  con- 1  but  only  one  saams  to  be  the  daughther. 
eluded  to  remain  incog.,  and  see  what  |  Maybe  it's  a  docthor  you  is,  now,  by  your 
would  be  the  result.  I  wee  look  and  thinness!" 

Removing  the  saddle  and  trappings  from  ■      "  I  was  educated  to  the  profession,  but 
my  horse,  I  hobbled  and  left  him  to  crop  ',  have  never  practised." 
the   green   grass   of    the   valley.      Then       "  Troth,  it's  no  difference — ye  must  go 
drawing  near  the  fire,  I  squatted  myself !  an' sae  the  lady — for  it's  Heaven  sint  ye 
down  in  the  ring,  just  far  enough  back  to  j  here,  I'm  knowing  mesilf." 
have  a  shade  upon  my  face.     The  trappers  j      "  But,  T — (I  was  on  the  point  of  speak- 


were  engaged   in  conversation    of    more 
than  ordinary  interest,  and   appeared  not 
to  notice  me;  while,  for  my  own   part,  I 
determined  not  to  interrupt  them. 
"  Think  she'll  hev  to  go  under,"  obser- 


ing  his  name) — but  I  have  no  medicine." 
"  Divil  a  bit  difference  for  that.  Ye 
must  be  afther  saaing  her,  if  ye's  a  docthor 
— and  can  spaak  the  Latin  names  they 
gives   whin     physic's  short — if   ounly   to 


ved  Black  George,  with  an  ominous  shake  '  comfort  the  young  lady  that's  dying   of 
of  the  head.     "  Thar's  many  places  better  ;  grief." 

to  be  sick  in  nor  this  here."  i      "  Well,  well,  I  will  go,"  I  said,  finding 

"  Ah,  jabers!  but  it's  har-r-d  now,  so  it  myself  fully  in  for  it,  and  my  curiosity  be- 
is,"  rejoined  Teddy,  looking  very  solemn,  j  ing  a  good  deal  excited,  also,  to  see  the 
"  Howly  murther!  but  I  wish  mesilf  a  doc- 1  lady  w-hom  all  agreed  in  describing  as 
thor  now — barring  the  physicing,  that  1 1  beautiful. 

don't  like  at  all,  at  all — if  ounly  to  make  ■  '■'  Ah!  that's  a  good  sowl  ye  is,  now!" 
the  face  of  that  swaat  crathur  glad,  by  |  said  the  warm,  generous  hearted  Teddy, 
tilling  her  I  knows  her  mother's  ailment,  i  who  seemed  as  much  interested  for  the 
Ochone!  but  she's  the  purtiest  live  one  '  fair  stranger  as  if  she  were  his  own  sister. 
I've  saan  since  laving  ould  Ireland,  where  "  It's  a  good  sowl  ye  is,  now,  to  go  and 
I  wish  mesilf  back  agin.  I  could  love  |  sae  her!  Faith!  ye-puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
her,  for  looking  so  much  like  me  young 'young  masther  I  once  had — voice  and  all 


116 


THE  PRAIRlE  FLOWER; 


— barring  that  he  was  a  wee  bit  belher 
looliinj^  nor  you  is." 

"  Indeed!  And  what  was  your  master's 
name]'' 

"  Och!  I  had  a  pair  of  'em.  One  was 
Misther  Huntly,  a  lawyer — and  tlie  other, 
Misther  Leighton,  a  docthor.  It's  the 
docthor  ye  puts  me  in  mind  of  now." 

"  Well,  what  became  of  them'?" 

"  Oh!  sir,"  cried  Teddy,  wiping  the  tears 
from  his  eyes,  "  they  got  killed,  sir.  The 
diviJish,  murthering,  baastly  tiefs  of  Injins 
killed  and  ate  'em.  Ochone!  ochone!" 
and  he  wrung  his  hands  at  the  bare  thought, 
and  sobbed  for  very  grief. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  take  it  to  heart  as 
much  as  if  they  were  related  to  you." 

"  And  so  would  you,  an'  ye'd  a  knowed 
'em,  sir.  They  was  two  sich  swaat youths! 
Perfict  gintlemen,  and  jist  from  college,  as 
I  heard  'em  say  mesilf.  Ochone!  but  I'd 
a  died  for  'em  asy,  and  no  questions  axed, 
an'  they'd  a  towld  me  too." 

"  Leighton!  Leighton!"  repeated  I,  mu- 
singly, as  if  trying  to  remember  where  I 
had  before  heard  the  name.  "Leighton! 
fresh  from  college,  say  youl  Was  the  one 
you  term  doctor,  from  Boston?" 

"  Ah,  troth  was  he!"  cried  Teddy,  jump- 
ing up  in  excitement.  "  Then  ye  know 
him,  sir,  it  may  be,  by  your  way  of  spak- 
ing,  jistr' 

"  I  know  enough  of  him,"  I  answered, 
now  fully  determined  on  putting  Teddy's 
friendship  to  the  test. 

"  Arrah!  sir,  and  what  d'ye  maan  by 
saying  the  likes  of  that,  now!" 

"  What  do  I  mean!  Why,  my  meaning 
is  very  simple.  I  know  that  this  fellow 
you  are  so  fond  of  lauding,  is  not  a  whit 
better  than  I  am." 

"And  I  maan  ye're  a  dirthy,  spalpeen 
blaggard — docthor  or  no  docthor — ^jist  for 
spaking  in  that  contimptible  manner  of 
the  finest  gintleman  as  was  iver  saan,  and 
no  exceptions  made  to  your  dirthy  self, 
that's  not  wort  the  snpp  of  me  finger! — 
Whoop!  ye  blaggard!  don't  be  grinning 
that  way  at  your  bethers — but  jist  come  out 
here  like  a  man,  ye  cfjwardly  tief!  and  sae 
what  I'll  taach  ye!     Whoop!" 

Here  the  Irishman  jumped  up  and  crack- 
ed his  heels,  and  made  several  warlike  de- 


monstrations with  his  fists,  much  to  my 
amusement  and  satisfaction.  The  trap- 
pers, too,  gathered  themselves  upon  their 
feet,  in  anticipation  of  a  fight;  and  as 
showed  no  disposition  to  reply  to  Teddy, 
Black  George  turned  his  dark  visage  to 
me,  and  said,  gruffly: 

"  Come,  young  chap,  you've  got  to  chaw 
them  words  you've  jest  put  travellin,  or 
git  licked  afore  you  ken  say  beans." 

"  What  have  I  said!"  I  replied,  finding 
the  matter  becoming  serious,  and  pretend- 
ing to  exculpate  myself.  "  T  merely  inti- 
mated that  Mr.  Leighton  was  no  better 
than  myself;  and  what  more  could  I  say, 
when  of  course  I  think  myself  as  good  as 
any  body!" 

"  Yes,  it's  all  very  well,  boy,  for  you  to 
talk," returned  Black Georare;  "butheyar's 
what  knows  a  insult  from  a  beaver,  I  reck- 
ons; and  ef  you  don't  chaw  them  words 
in  less  nor  two  minutes,  and  own  up  you 
aint  no  equal  to  him  you've  spoke  aginst, 
I'll  ram  some  fodder  down  your  gullet  you 
won't  swoller  easy — ef  I  don't,  I  hope  I 
may  be  dogged  for  a  dirty  skunk  all  my 
life;"  and  he  ended  by  shaking  his  fist  ra- 
ther nearer  my  face  than  was  agreeable. 

"Yes,  and  now  be  taking  thim  back!" 
roared  Teddy,  making  preparations  to 
spring  upon  me,  "  or  I'll  turn  ye  inside 
out,  and  shake  ye  as  T  used  me  masther's 
carpet-bag,  that's  dead  and  gone — not  the 
bag,  but  the  masther,  ye  blaggard,  ye!" 

I  now  found,  that  t.o  restore  myself  to 
the  good  graces  of  my  friends,  I  should  be 
obliged  to  own  myself  a  falsifier,  or  make 
myself  known.  As  I  had  fully  tested  their 
friendship  for  my  absent  self,  I  chose  the 
latter. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  rejoined,  mildly,  "  I  can 
prove  every  thing  I  have  said;  and  even 
you  will  acknowledge  it,  when  I  tell  you 
who  I  am.  You  behold  before  you,  net 
the  calumniator  of  Francis  Leighton,  but 
Francis  Leighton  himself,  your  old  friend." 

Had  a  bomb  suddenly  fallen  and  burst 
at  their  feet,  it  could  not  have  caused  more 
surprise  and  wonder  with  Teddy  and  Black 
George,  than  did  this  simple  declaration. 

At  first  they  both  "took  a  step  or  two 
back,  and  then  springing  forward,  each 
caught  me  by  an  arm,  and,  drawing  m^ 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


117 


close  to  the  fire,  peered  eagerly  into  my 
face.  One  full,  penetrating  glance  suf- 
ficed. » 

"  Him,  by !"  cried  Black  George. 

"Howly  Mary!"  shouted  Teddy,  throw- 
ing his  arms  around  my  neck,  and  weep- 
ing like  a  child.  Then  taking  another 
long  look  into  my  face,  he  sprang  away, 
and  shouting,  "Be  howly  St.  Pathrick! 
it's  him — it's  him! — me  young  masther's 
alive!"  he  danced  and  capered  around  me, 
with  all  the  wild  gestures  of  joyful  in- 
sanity— sometimes  weeping,  and  some- 
times laughing,  and  occasionally  catching 
hold  of  me,  as  if  to  assure  himself  of  my 
identity,  and  that  it  was  no  vision,  no  hal- 
lucination of  the  brain. 

Black  George,  meantime,  pressed  my 
hand  warmly,  and  said,  in  a  voice  slightly 
tremulous  with  emotion: 

"Boy,  I  never  reckoned  seein  you  agin. 
Thought  you'd  gone  under — I'll  be  dog- 
gone ef  I  didn't!  You  fit  well — I'll  be 
dogged  ef  you  didn't!  Butwhar  d'ye  float 
to,  and  whar's  your  partner?" 

Some  half  an  hour  was  now  spent  in 
questions  and  answers,  during  which  I 
learned  that  Fiery  Ned  and  Rash  Will  had 
both  been  killed  at  Bitter  Cottonwood; 
that  Daring  Tom  had  been  severely  wound- 
ed, and  shortly  after  left  for  the  States; 
that  Carson  had  escaped,  and  was  at  the 
present  time  acting  as  guide  to  Fremont; 
that  Teddy  had  been  on  a  trapping  adven- 
ture with  Black  George  and  two  or  three 
others;  that,  having  recently  made  a  trip 
to  St.  Louis,  they  were  now  on  their  way 


where  I  found  some  six  or  eight  heavy 
covered  wagons,  arranged  in  a  circle.  In 
the  center  of  the  area  stood  a  group  of 
men,  conversing  in  low  tones,  and  glan- 
cing occasionally  at  one  of  the  vehicles, 
around  which  several  women  were  collect- 
ed, the  faces  of  all,  as  far  as  I  could  see, 
expressive  of  deep  sympathy  and  sorrow. 
Close  to  the  wagon,  in  which  on  a  rude 
bed  the  invalid  was  lying,  were  two  young 
females,  apparently  of  the  better  class,  one 
of  whom,  clasping  the  thin  hand  of  the 
sick  person,  particularly  arrested  ray  at- 
tention, by  her  display  of  violent  grief. 
The  other  appeared  to  be  weeping  also; 
but  the  faces  of  both  were  from  me,  so 
that  I  could  only  conjecture. 

Taking  the  lead,  Teddy  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  lightly  touching 
the  shoulder  of  the  one  who  held  the  in- 
valid's hand,  said,  in  a  gentle  tone: 

"  Here's  a  docthor,  marm." 

The  next  moment  I  found  myself  the 
cynosure  of  many  eyes,  while  the  one  ad- 
dressed, turning  short  round,  gave  one 
glance,  and  uttering  a  fearful  scream,  sank 
to  the  earth  in  a  swoon.  What  this  meant 
I  was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend;  for  her  fea- 
tures had  been  in  the  shade  of  the  same 
light  which  revealed  mine  to  her. 

"  Nervous  excitement,"  I  said  to  myself; 
"joy  at  beholding  a  physician  at  hand; "^ 
and  springing  forward,  I  bent  down  to  raise 
her. 

Already  had  my  arms  encircled  her  slen- 
I  der  form — already  was  I  on  the  point  of 
!  lifting  her  from  the  earth — when  the  light 


to  the  mountains;  and  that  neither  myself!  of  a  torch  flashed  full  on  her  pale  counten- 
nor  Huntly  had  been  heard  from  since  that;  ance.  One  look!  one  sudden  start!  one- 
eventful  night — in  consequence  of  which 


they  had  supposed  us  killed  or  made  pri- 
soners. In  turn,  I  gave  them  a  brief  out- 
line of  my  own  adventures,  up  to  the  loss 
of  my  friend,  at  which  both  expressed  deep 
sympathy,  and  Teddy  wept  freely. 

"  Spaking  of  Misther  Huntly,"  said 
Teddy  at  length,  "  puts  me  in  mind  that 
you  havn't  yit  saan  the  sick  woman,  your 
honor." 

"  True,  Teddy— I  had  forgot.  Lead  the 
way!" 

At  the  word,  we  quitted  the  trappers, 
arid  set  forward  to  the  larger  encampment, 


exclamation  of  agonized  wonder!  and  I 
remained  fixed,  with  eyes  half  starting: 
from  their  sockets — speechless — motion- 
less— seemingly  transformed  to  stone — my 
arms  encircling — merciful  Heaven! — the 
lovely  form  of — Lilian  Hunthj! 


lis  THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 


INDESCRIBABLE  FEELINGS — QUESTIONS  FOR 
THE  METAPHYSICIAN— DIGUESSION—rAIN- 
FUL  AFFLICTIONS  OF  MY  FRIEND'S  FAIM;  LV 

WESTEnN    FEVER CAUSES     INDUCING 

EMrGRATIOH — AN     IMAGINARY    CITY  —  A 
MYSTERIOUS    LADY    AND  DAUGHTER,  ETC. 

There  are  feelings  that  cannot  be  de- 


my heart  raised  and  borne  away  also.  I 
felt  my  limbs  chafedby  half  a  dozen  hands, 
and  water  dashed  in  my  face.  I  saw  thus, 
felt  thus,  comprehended  all — and  yet  my 
mind  was  wandering  far  away  to  other 
scenes. 

Have  we  power  to  think  of  more  than 
one  thing  at  the  same  time,'  I  con- 
tend that  we  nave — or  else  that  thought, 
swift  beyond  comparison,  sets   before  us 


scribed.     There  are  emotions  too  deep  for  |  diflerent  scenes,  with  such  rapidity,  that 
utterance.      There   are    times   when  the  i  we  .s't'em  to  behold  two  at  once — sometimes 


mind  has  power  to  paralize  the  body. 
When  racking  thought  forces  us  to  live 
an  age  in  a  minute.  When  we  see  and 
know  all  that  is  going  on  around  us,  and 
yet  seem  to  be  separate  from  the  world — 
to  exist  in  a  world  of  ideality — ^a  spiritual 
state.  When  our  whole  life,  like  a  map, 
seems  laid  before  us,  and  we  behold  at  a 
single  glance,  in  a  second  of  time,  what 
has  taken  us  years  to  enact.  When,  leap- 
ing over  the  past  and  the  present,  we  seem 
to  pierce  the  great  veil  of  the  future,  and 
behold  our  destiny. 

May  not  this  be  a  foretaste  of  death"! 
May  we  not  so  see,  and  feel,  and  know, 
when  the  spirit  shall  have  become  separa- 
ted from  its  frail  tenement  of  mortality] 

I  have  said  there  are  such  feelings  and 
emotions;  but  they  can  only  result  from 
the  most  powerful  causes.  Neither  do 
they  effect  all  in  the  same  manner.  While 
a  few  experience  the  sensations  just  des- 
cribed, to  others  the  same  or  similar  caus- 
es, may  be  productive  of  death,  insanity, 
or  the  death-like  swoon  of  utter  forgetful- 
ness. 

Of  the  former  class,  was  I — of  the  lat- 
ter, Lilian.  The  same  emotions  which 
forced  her  to  unconsciousness — paralized 
my  physical  powers,  and  forced  me  to  a 
consciousness  beyond  the  natural. 

Bending  over  her — my  eyes  seemingly 
glazed,  and  fixed  upon  her  sv/eet  face,  now 
pale  and  death-like — I  remained  spell 
bound — all  my  animal  faculties  suspended. 


half-a-dozen — and  yet  each,  perhaps,  as 
opposite  and  distant,  as  the  north  and 
south  poles. 

While  I  comprehended  what  was  going 
on  around  me,  my  mind  flew  back  to  youth 
— to  the  time  when  I  first  felt  a  pas- 
sion for  Lilian— and  traced  every  event  of 
my  life,  up  to  the  present  moment.  Even 
the  dream — wherein  I  had  seen  her  bowed 
down  by  poverty,  and  finally  murdered  by 
my  supposed  rival — was  not  overlooked; 
and  it  now  recurred  to  me  as  a  vision  of 
prophecy.  Something  fearful  had  happen- 
ed, and  I  had  been  warned  of  it  in  my 
sleep. 

How  is  it  that  in  our  sleep  events  are 
made  known  to  us,  that  really  are,  or  are 
about  taking  place]  Can  it  be  that  the 
spirit  then  roams  at  will,  in  all  the  freedom 
of  disembodiment,  and  returns  freighted 
with  intelligence  to  communicate  to  the 
physical  senses!  Let  the  philosopher  and 
metaphysician  answer!  Enough  for  me 
the  effect,  without  at  present  seeking  the 
cause. 

And  here,  to  keep  my  narrative  straight 
before  the  reader,  let  me  digress  one  mo- 
ment, to  place  him  in  possession  of  facts 
which  I  gleaned  afterwards — partly  from 
Lilian — partly  from  her  companions  of  the 
journey. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  in  the  open- 
ing of  this  story,  I  mentioned  my  own 
father,  and  the  father  of  my  friend,  as  being 
wealthy  merchants  in  the  city  of  Boston. 


I  heard  a  trampling  of  feet,  as  several  per-!  Shortly  after  our  departure — it  might  be 
sons  hurried  to  our  assistance.     I  heard   on  that  very  night  of  my  singular  dream — 


voices  expressive  of  alarm  and  dismay — 
and,  above  all,  the  voice  of  the  invalid 
•calling  Lilian  by  name.  I  was  conscious 
qf  being  removed-^of  seeing   tJi?-i^lolof 


news  of  the  failure  of  three  large  houses 
in  New  York,  gave  Huntly  the  astounding 
information  that  be  was  not  worth  a  thou- 
sand dollars  bejpndhis  obligations.     lam 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


119 


■not  going  to  describe  his  feelings,  nor 
those  of  his  family,  on  finding  themselves 
thus  suddenly  plunged  from  a  state  of  un- 
limited wealth  to  one  ef  comparative  pov- 
■erty.  The  effect  upon  the  elder  Huntly, 
was  to  ruin  him  in  his  own  estimation  for 
life;  and  it  soon  became  apparent  to  his 
friends,  that  he  would  not  long  survive  the 
•shock.  All  his  energy,  his  ambition,  went 
with  his  property;  and  a  cloud  of  melan- 
cholly  and  grief  settled  over  his  once  bright 
and  joyous  countenance.  Several  wiirm 
hearted  friends,  among  whom  was  my  fath- 
er, came  forward  and  offered  to  assist  him 
— but  all  to  no  avail.  He  refused  assis- 
tance— declaring  it  the  chastening  hand 
of  God,  to  prepare  him  to  depart  to  his 
long  home.  Oppression  of  spirits  brought 
on  physical  debility,  and  the  winds  of  the 
succeeding  autumn  sung  a  dirge  over  his 
grave. 

A  father  and  husband  dead — a  brother 
and  son  away,  perhaps  dead  also — made 
the  home  of  Lilian  and  her  mother  a  house 
of  mourning  indeed;  and  what  they  suffer- 
ed for  the  next  two  years,  I  must  leave  to 
the  imaginations  of  those  who  have  felt  a 
similar  visitation  of  the  hand  of  Providence. 

After  paying  the  debts  of  the  estate,  a 
remnant  of  property  remained,  to  which  a 
few  friends,  on  pretence  they  owed  the  de- 
ceased for  this  favor  or  that,  generously  add- 
ed more;  so  that,  although  comparitively 
poor,  they  were  in  a  measure  above  want. 
They  left  their  fine  mansion,  to  reside 
in  a  small  but  pleasant  house,  owned  by 
my  father,  but  for  which  he  would  receive 
no  rent.  Here  they  remained  for  eighteen 
months,  laboring  uiader  a  weight  of  afflic- 
tion which  those  only  can  know  who  have 
lost  friends  by  death,  been  suddenly  reduc- 
ed from  affluence  to  poverty,  and  seen  the 
cold  stinging  look  of  scorn  and  contempt 
upon  the  lips  of  these  heartless  beings 
who  were  wont  to  plswr  the  fawning  syco- 
phant, and  utter  words  of  flattery  and  de- 
ceit as  worthless  as  themselves, 
y  During  the  winter  of  1841-42,  much  was 
said  concerning  Oregon,  and,  as  generally 
happens  with  every  new  place  to  which 
public  attention  becomes  particularly  di- 
rected, there  were  not  lacking  exagerated 
accounts,  which  seti^  forth  as  the  real  El 


Dorado  of  the  world.  Whether  these  ow- 
ed their  origin  to  the  prolific  brains  of  cer- 
tain romantic  editors,  or  to  the  more  de- 
signing ones  of  speculator?,  or  to  both 
combined,  (the  most  probable)  matters  not; 
but  the  effect  was  to  set  on  foot  a  tide  of 
emigration,  which,  had  it  continued  to  the 
present  time,  without  check,  would  have 
made  Oregon  a  populous  country. 

Among  those  who  had  caught  this  "wes- 
tern fever,"  as  it  is  frequently  not  inap- 
propriately termed,  were  a  few  wealthy 
farmers  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  with  one 
family  of  whom  Mrs.  Huntly  had  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance.  Being  on  a  visit  there 
in  the  winter,  she  soon  learned,  much  to 
her  surprise,  that  they  were  already  mak- 
ing preparations  to  start,  on  the  opening  of 
spring,  for  this  great  El  Dorado — this  Ul- 
tima Thule  of  western  emigration.  Sever- 
al of  their  acquaintances  were  going  to 
join  them,  and,  above  all,  an  eccentric  la- 
dy of  wealth  and  refinement,  who,  with 
her  beautiful  daughter,  had  for  the  past 
year  been  the  lioness  and  belle  of  the  aris- 
tocratic and  fashionable  circles  of  Boston. 
Of  this  lady — who  was  known  as  Madame 
Mortimer,  as  also  her  daughter,  who  had 
received  the  sobriquet  of  Belle  Eva,  the 
latter  being  her  Christian  name — Mrs. 
Huntly  iiad  more  than  once  heard;  and  it 
was  with  no  little  surprise,  as  may  readiJy 
be  imagined,  she  now  learned  of  her  de- 
termination to  venture  upon  such  a  long, 
tedious,  and  dangerous  journey;  and  she 
mentally  said,  "  When  such  a  personage 
resolves  to  leave  all  the  allurements  of 
civilieation,  there  must  be  somethingworth 
going  for;"  and  this,  probably,  proved  one 
of  the  strongest  arguments  to  induce  her 
to  make  one  of  the  party  herself.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  her  country  friends  were  en- 
thusiastic on  th-e  subject  of  Oregon,  of 
which  they  had  received  the  most  glowing, 
and  of  course  exagerated  accounts,  and 
were  eager  in  urging  her  to  join  them. 
Oregon  City,  a  name  which  sounded  well 
to  the  ear,  was  to  be  their  destination.  O 
this  they  already  had  maps,  whereon  tha 
beautiful  streets  and  squares  looked  very 
enticing.  Here  each  and  all  were  to  make 
their  fortunes;  and  in  the  visionary  ex- 
citemen.t  of  the   moment,  they  overlooksid 


120 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


the  sober  fact,  that  Oregon  City  then  ex- 
isted on  the  map  only,  drawn  up  by  some 
speculator,  and  that  its  handsome  streets 
and  squares,  were  simply  imaginary  loca- 
tions in  an  utter  wilderness. 

But  why  prolong — why  enter  into  de- 
tail of  the  hundred  little  causes  which, 
combined,  decided  Mrs.  Huntly  (a  lady 
whose  main  faults  were  an  enthusiastic 
love  of  new  projects,  an  overweening  con- 
fidence in  her  own  judgment,  and  a  wilful 
adherence  to  her  own  decisions,  right  or 
wrong,)  in  joining  this  ill-timed  expedition, 
contrary  to  the  advice  of  her  friends  and 
of  Lilian — the  latter  of  whom  consented 
to  accompany  her  that  she  might  not  be 
separated  from  her  only  parent.  Enough, 
that  she  had  sq  decided;  and  that  early  in 
the  spring  succeeding,  having  disposed  of 
all  her  effects,  she  and  Lilian,  in  company 
with  Madame  and  Eva  Mortimer,  (whom 
the  fashionable  world  of  course  considered 
insane)  and  some  eight  or  ten  families, 
had  set  out  on  their  long  journey  to  the 
far,  Far  West. 

And  here  apropos  of  Madame  Mortimer 
and  her  lovely  daughter,  of  whom  much 
remains  to  be  said  at  no  distant  period. 
Although  they  had  appeared  in  the  fo.shion- 
able  circles  of  Boston,  reputed  wealthy, 
nothing  of  their  private  history  was  known; 
and  of  course,  as  regarded  them,  curiosity 
was  excited  to  a  great  degree,  but  without 
avail.  They  had  been  met  among  the  hon 
ton  of  New  York,  and  invited  to  Boston. 
They  had  accepted  the  invitation,  had  pass- 
ed the  ordeal  of  fashionable  criticism,  had 
cGfhducted  themselves  on  all  occasions 
with  strict  propriety,  and  had  departed, 
right  in  the  face  of  all  the  gossips,  without 
a  single  one  being  the  wiser  for  his  or  her 
inquiries. 

As  to  who  and  what  they  were,  and  how 
connected  with  the  foregoing  and  succeed- 
ing events  of  this  life-history,  the  reader 
who  continues  to  the  end  of  the  narrative, 
will  doubtless  be  enlightened. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  touch  upon  the 
journey  of  my  friends  westward.  Like  all 
emigrants  who  seek  Oregon  for  a  home, 
they  had  experienced  severe  trials  and  vi- 
cissitudes, which  upon  them  had  fallen  the 
more  heavily,  from  being  the  first  hard- 


ships they  had  ever  known.  Some  three 
or  four  days  previous  to  my  joining  them, 
Mrs.  Huntly  had  been  taken  sick;  and  al- 
though Lilian  had  been  greatly  alarmed 
from  the  first,  yet  with  the  others  the  mat- 
ter had  not  been  thought  serious,  until  the 
evening  in  question,  when  her  symptoms 
had  taken  an  unfavorable  turn.  Having 
no  doctor  among  them,  application  for  one 
had  been  made  by  Lilian  to  some  of  the 
trappers — who  chanced  to  bpi  passing — 
an|l  this,  providentially,  had  brought  us 
once  more  together,  after  the  long  and 
eventful  separation  of  more  than  two 
years. 

Having  nov/,  reader,  put  you  in  posses- 
sion of  facts  important  for  you  to  know,  I 
will  return  from  my  digression,  and  go  on 
with  my  narrative. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

RECOVER  FROM  MT  PARALYSIS — THE  INVA- 
LID— CAUSE  OF  ILLNESS — REMEDY — HAP- 
PY RESULTS JOY  OF  LILIAN AN  EVA- 
SION— FAMILIAR  FACES — STRANGE  MEET- 
ING  REFLECTIONS. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  I  recover- 
ed from  my  paralysis,  and  thiy  was  doubt- 
less much  accelerated  by  Teddy,  who,  hav- 
ing tried  various  ways  to  restore  me,  at 
last  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck,  and 
placing  his  mouth  close  to  my  ear,  shout- 
ed: 

"  I  say,  your  honor,  is  it  dead  ye  is,  now 
— or  is  it  dead  ye's  jist  agoing  to  be — by 
the  way  ye's  stare  so,  and  says  nothing  at 
all,  at  all!" 

With  a  start,  as  if  suddenly  awakened 
from  a  dream,  I  looked  around  me,  per- 
ceived myself  the  centei*  of  all  eyes,  and 
heard  my  name  several  times  pronounced, 
coupled  with  that  of  Lilian,  as  here  and 
there  one,  who  had  gained  the  secret  of 
our  strange  behavior,  sought  to  explain  it 
to  others.  To  most,  my  name  was  already 
familiar,  as  the  companion  of  young  Hunt- 
ly, and  son  of  the  wealthy  Leighton  of 
Boston — and  this,  probably,  had  no  ten- 
dency to  lessen  curiosity. 


OR,  ADVEXTLTRES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


121 


My  first   feeling  on  regaining  myself,,      "  Ah!  Francis.I  neverthought weshou'.J 
(if  ]  may  bo  expre:5s  it)  was  one  of  con- 1  meet  thus." 

fusion,  that  I  had  so  publicly  laid  myself  "True,"  I  replied,  "I  had  thGi-!<xht  to 
open  to  gossip;  my  second,  indignation  at  meet  you  under  other  circumstances- 
being  so  stared  at;  my  third,  alarm  as  to  |  though  I  presume  all  has  haj^pened  for  the 
v/hat  might  be  the  efiect  of  all  this  upon  I  best. 


Mrs.  Huntly;  and  to  her  I  immediately 
turned,  without  a  word  to  the  others.  Per- 
haps the  reader,  if  a  lover,  is  surprised 
that  my  first  alarm  was  not  for  Lilian. — 
Ay!  but,  dear  sir,  I  saw  at  a  glance  that 
Lilian  was  in  good  hands,  and  in  a  fair 
way  of  recovery,  and  it  would  have  been 
injudicious,  at  that  moment,  to  draw  any 
more  attention  to  her. 

Mrs.  Huntly  I  found  lying  upon  a  fea- 
ther bed,  in  a  large,  covered  wagon,  under- 
neath which  was  attached  a  furnace  for 


•  '•  You  find  me  very  low,  do  you  not?" 
"You  have  been  iii,"  I  answered,  empha- 
sising the  word  have;  '■  but  every  thing 
I  see  has  turned  in  your  favor." 

"How!"  she  exclaimed,  quickly,  raising 
her  head,  and  fixing  her  eyes  intently  upon 
mine;  "  would  you  imply  that  I  am  not  in 
a  dangerous  condition!" 

"  I  would  not  only  imply  it,"  I  rejoined, 
R'ith  energy,  pretending  to  judge  by  her 
pulse,  "  but  I  will  assert  it,  as  an  indispu- 
table fact.     If  in  a  week  from  this  you 


warming  it;  6o  that,  all  things  considered,!  are  not  as  well  as  you  ever  were  in  your 


the  patient  was  more  comfortably  situated 
than  I  had  expected  to  find  her. 

In  appearance,  she  had  altered  much 
Kince  I  last  saw  her.  Her  naturally  rather 
florid  complexion,  and  full,  round  face,  had 
given  place  to  pallor  and  thinness,  and 
here  and  there  I  could  trace  deep  lines  of 
care;  but  I  failed  to  note  a  single  symp- 
tom portending  immediate  danger.  Grief, 
fatiguD  of  travel,  and  many  anxieties  of 
mind,  together  with  a  touch  of  influenza, 
had  brought  on  a  splenetic'afl^ection,  some- 
thing like  what  is  vulgarly  termed  "  hypo." 
She  had  fancied  herself  very  ill,  and  in 
fact  nigh  unto  death;  and  I  saw  at  once, 
that  could  she  be  persuaded  the  crisis  had 
passed,  and  that  the  danger  was  over,  she 


life,  I  will  give  you  leave  to  call  me  an 
imposter." 

"  Really,  Francis,  you  surprise  me!"  she 
said,  with  animation.  "  In  fact,  I  believe 
I  do  feel  better.  But  I  hav£  been  sick — 
you  admit  thaf!" 

"  O,  most  certainly,"  I  said,  rejoiced  to 
perceive  the  beneficial  effects  of  my  men- 
tal prescription.  "  You  have  been  very 
sick,  and  within  an  hour  have  been  nigh 
unto  death;  but,  thank  God!  the  crisis 
has  passed,  and  you  have  nothing  to  do 
now  but  recover  as  fast  as  possible." 

"  But  what  is,  or  has  been,  my  ailment!" 

Here  I  remembered  the  suggestion  of 
Teddy,  and  quickly  mumbled  over  a  long 
string  of  Latin  names,  with  scientific  ex- 


would  speedily  recover — and  upon  this  I ,  planations,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of 
acted  with  decision.  The  cause  of  her  j  every  body,  but  myself.  The  spectators 
grief  and  of  her  being  here,  I  did  not  who  had  crowded  around  to  hear  what  I 
then  know — for  the  information  which  I  had  to  say — being,  with  but  two  or  three 
have  given  the  reader  on  the  subject,  v/as  exceptions,  good  honest  farmers  and  farm- 
not  obtained  till  afterwards — and  I  saw  it  j  ers' wives — nodded  approvals  to  each  other, 


would  not  do  to  question  her.  It  was 
necessary  I  should  appear  cheerful,  wheth- 
er I  felt  60  or  not;  and  accordingly  I  ap- 
proached her  with  a  smile.  Instantly  her 
eye  brightened  as  it  met  mine,  and  I  per- 
ceived, to  my  great  satisfaction,  that  the 
alarm  occasioned  by  the  swoon  of  Lilian, 
had  proved  beneficial,  in  drawing  her 
thoughts  from  herself  to  another,  and  arous- 
ing all  her  dormant  faculties.  Extending  her 
hand  as  I  approached,  ehe  said,  with  a  sigh: 


and  gave  me  many  a  respectful  glance, 
equivalent  to  telling  me,  that  my  first  case, 
without  a  single  dose,  had,  with  them,  es- 
tablished my  reputation  as  a  skillful  physi- 
cian. O,  the  humbug  of  big  sounding 
words!  I  would  advise  doctors  and  law- 
yers to  use  them  on  all  occasions. 

News  of  my  decision,  regarding  the  pa- 
tient, flew  rapidly  from  one  to  another — 
lighting  each  countenance,  before  gloomy, 
with  a  smile  of  pleasure— until  it  reached 


122 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


'he  ear  of  Lilian,  who,  just  recovering 
irom  the  effects  of  her  swoon,  uttered  a 
try  of  joy,  and,  much  to  the  surprise  and 
^satisfaction  of  those  engaged  in  restoring 
li<?r,  suddenly  sprang  away  from  them  and 
rushed  to  her  mother. 

"  O,  mother,"  she  cried,  "  I  have  heard 
such  good  tidings!" 

'■'  All  true,  every  word,"  returned  her 
mother,  gaily.  "  My  physician  has  pro- 
nounced me  out  of  danger;"  and  she 
playfully  pointed  to  me. 

"  God  be  praised!"  cried  Lilian,  fervent- 
ly. "  What  a  miracle  is  this!  and  how  it 
relieves  my  anguished  heart!" 

Then  turning  upon  me  her  sweet,  pale, 
lovely  countenance — her  full,  soft  blue 
eyes,  moist  with  tears — she  partly  extend- 
ed her  hand,  and  gasped  my  name. 

The  next  instant,  regardless  of  the  time, 
place,  and  the  presence  of  others,  she  was 
clasped  in  my  arms,  strained  to  my  heav- 
ing breast,  and  my  lips  were  pressed  to 
hers  in  the  holy  kiss  of  mutual  love.  It 
was  a  blissful  moment,  notwithstanding 
all  we  had  both  suffered.  But  it  was  a 
moment  only;  for  the  next  she  sprang 
away,  blushing  and  abashed  at  what 
she  doubtless  considered  her  own  bold- 
ness. 

"  You're  a  wonderful  docthor,  your  hon- 
or," whispered  Teddy  in  my  ear.  "  Faith! 
ye  jist  looks  at  'em,  and  jabbers  a  few  La- 
thin  names,  and  they're  betther'n  they  iver 
was — afore  they've  time  to  know  what  ail- 
ed 'em,  jist — and,  troth!  a  hugging  ye  at 
that,  too,  the  purtiest  one  among  'em. 
Is  it  knowing  thim  ye  is— or  does  the  likes 
«f  her  kiss  by  raasoh  of  yees  being  a  doc- 
thor? Jabers!  it's  what  I'd  like  done  to 
mesilf,  now,  in  any  perfishion." 

"Hush!  Teddy.  These  are  the  sister 
and  mother  of  my  lost  friend." 

"  Howly  St.  Pathrick  in  the  morning! 
ye  don't  say!"  exclaimed  Teddy,  stagger- 
ing back  with  surprise. 

"  Hush!"  I  whispered  in  his  ear,  catch- 
ing him  by  the  arm,  with  a  grip  sufBcient 
to  impress  the  importance  of  my  words. 
"  Not  a  syllable  concerning  Huntly,  as  you 
value  your  life!" 

"OchI"  returned  Teddy,  placing  his 
Soger  to  Ills  lips,  winking  his  eye,  and 


I'm  dumb  as  a  dead 


nodding  his  head, 
nager,  I  is." 

This  caution  was  not  made  any  too  soon ; 
for  the  next  moment  Mrs.  Huntly  e.xclaim- 
ed: 

"  But,  Francis,  where  is  my  son — where 
is  Charles — that  he  does  not  make  his  ap- 
pearance]" 

"  O,  yes,  my  brother!"  cried  Lilian. 
I  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  serious  fit 
of  coughing,  so  as  to  gain  time  for  a  re- 
ply.    It  would  not  do  to  let  them  know 
the  true  state  of  the  case,  and  I  could  not 
think  of  telling  them  a  falsehood.     A  hap- 
py thought  struck  me,  and  I  answered: 
"  Charles  is  not  with  me." 
"Indeed!      Where  is  he,  then!"  cried 
both  in  a  breath. 

"  We  parted  in  California;  I  left  him  - 
going  eastward;  and,  for  what  I  know,  he 
may  be  now  in  Boston." 

"  God  help  him,  then,  when  he  hears 
the  awful  news,  and  finds  himself  home- 
less and  friendless,  poor  boy!"  cried  Mrs. 
Huntly,  with  a  burst  of  grief,  in  which 
Lilian  joined. 

I  now  inquired  what  had  happened,  and 
learned,  in  the  course  of  conversation, 
much  of  that  which  I  have  already  given 
the  reader. 

"  Poor  Charles!"  I  sighed  to  myself,  "  it 
is  well  if  thou  art  dead.  Better  be  dead, 
than  return  to  thy  once  happy  home,  only 
to  find  thy  friends  gone  and  thyself  a  beg- 
gar!" 

With  Lilian  and  her  mother,  in  their 
misfortunes,  I  sympathised  deeply;  but 
fearing  these  saddening  thoughts  might 
prove  injurious  to  Mrs.  Huntly,  I  hastened 
to  console  her  by  saying: 

"  We  should  bear  in  mind  that  all  are 
born  to  die;  that  riches  are  unstable;  and 
that  whatever  happens,  is  always  for  the 
best,  though  we  be  not  able  to  see  it  at  the 

time." 

"  That  I  believe  to  be  the  true  philoso- 
phy of  life,"  said  a  middle  aged  lady  at  my 
side,  whom,  with  her  daughter,  a  meet 
companion  for  Lilian,  I  had  more  than 
once  noticed,  as  possessing  superior  ac- 
complishments; but  under  the  excitement 
I  was  laboring,  I  had  failed  to  closely  scan 
the  features  of  either.  I  now  turned  at 
once  to  the  speaker,  and  was  imraedi^.tely 


OR,  ADVENTURES   IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


123 


introduced,  by  Lilian,  to  Madame  Morti- 
mer, and  her  daughter  Eva. 

"  Strange!"  I  said  to  myself,  as,  bowing 
to  each,  I  became  struck  with  the  famili- 
arity of  their  features.  "  I  have  seen 
these  faces  before,  methinks — but  where 
I  cannot  tell." 

The  name,  however,  perplexed  me — for 
I  had  no  remembrance  of  ever  before  be- 
ing introduced  to  a  Mortimer. 

"  Your  countenance  seems  familiar,"  I 
said,  addressing  the  elder  lady. 

"  And  so  does  yours,  sir!"  she  replied; 
"  and  for  the  last  half  hour,  I  have  been 
trying  to  recall  whsre  I  have  seen  you — 
but  in-vain." 

Suddenly  the  whole  truth  flashed  upon 
me. 

"  Were  you  not  in  New  York  with  your 
daughter,  some  two  years  since?"  I  in- 
quired, eagerly. 

"  I  was." 

"  At  the  National  Theatre,  on  the  night 
it  was  burned!" 

"  I  was." 

"  Did  not  some  one  rescue  your  daugh- 
ter from  the  flames'!" 

"  Good  heavens!  yes!  I  remember  now 
— I  remember!"  she  exclaimed,  a  good 
deal  agitated.  "  It  was  you,  sir — you!  I 
thought  I  knew  tho^e  features!"  and  exci- 
ted by  powerful  emotions,  she  seized  both 
my  hands  in  hers,  and  pressing  thjm  warm- 
ly, uttered  a  "  God  bless  you!"  while  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears  of  gratitude.  Eva 
was  too  much  affected  to  trust  her  voice 
in  the  utterance  of  a  single  word — but  her 
look  spoke  volumes. 

What  a  strange  combination  of  startling 
events  had  this  night  revealed  to  me!  How 
mysteriously  had  Providence  arranged  and 
put  them  together  for  some  great  design! 
Who  could  have  imagined  that  the  mere 
act  of  saving  a  fellow-creature's  life — a 
stranger  at  that,  in  a  strange  city — and 
leaving  her  without  knowing  her  name,  or 
even  her  residence,  for  a  long  journey  of 
many  thousand  miles — was  to  have  a  di- 
rect bearing  upon  my  future  destiny,  and 
that  of  my  friend!  Yet  such  was  the  fact; 
and  however  unimportant  the  incident 
might  have  appeared  at  the  time  to 
the  reader — however  irrelative  to  the  main 


story — yet  on  that  very  circumstance,  un- 
known to  any,  was  depending  many  of  the 
important  events  which  followed  those  al- 
ready described,  and  which  in  due  time 
will  be  given. 

It  was  with  sensations  peculiar  to  each, 
that  these  matters  were  narrated  and  com- 
mented upon  for  the  next  two  hours;  and 
doubtless  not  one,  who  heard  the  strange 
and  romantic  story  of  how  I  saved  the  life 
of  Eva  Blortimer,  but  felt  his  most  trivial 
act  to  result  from  the  hidden  design  of  a 
Higher  Power.  As  for  myself,  such 
chaos  of  ideas  crowded  my  brain,  as  made  it 
imposssible  for  me  to  describe  what  I 
thought,  or  what  feeling  had  the  prepon- 
derance, unless  it  were  a  mingling  of  plea- 
sure and  sadness.  But  one  thing  seemed 
wanting  to  make  me  joyful;  and  that,  alas! 
was  my  friend.  Had  he  been  present,  not- 
withstanding all  adverse  circumstances, 
my  heart  would  have  bounded  with  rapture. 
And  he!  what  would  have  been  his  feel- 
ings, thus  to  have  met,  in  propria  persorue, 
the  idol  of  his  dreams  ! — thus  to  have  been 
placed  tete-a-tete  with  Eva  Mortimer — the 
beautiful  unknown! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

STANDING  SENTINEL — DROWSINESS — INTER- 
KUPTION SUDDEN  APPEARANCE  OF  PRAI- 
RIE   FLOWER HER   WARNING,   SURPRISE, 

AGITATION  AND  ABRUPT  DEPARTURE  — 
ALARM  THE  CAMP — HOSTILE  PREPARA- 
TIONS   ATTACK  — REPULSE — VICTORY — 

ARRIVAL    IN  OREGON CONCLUSION. 

It  was  late  in  the  night,  and  all  had  be- 
come still  in  the  encampment.  The  ani- 
mals— consisting  of  mules,  horses,  oxen 
and  cows — had  been  driven  together  and 
tethered,  and  were  taking  their  repose.  In 
the  area,  formed  by  the  wagons,  two  fires 
were  burning,  at  one  of  which  sat  Ted('y 
and  myself,  half  dozing,  with  our  rifles 
resting  against  our  shoulders.  We  had 
volunteered  our  services  as  sentinels  for 
the  night — but  our  watch  could  hardly  be 
termed  vigilant.  In  the  surrounding  vehi- 
cles, the  emigrants  were  already  giving 
evidence  of  that  sound  sleep  which  indi- 


124 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


cates  health  and  weariness,  and  a  cessa- 
tion of  the  physical  and  mental  faculties. 
I  was,  as  I  said  before,  in  a  half  dozing 
state.  I  had  been  conning  over  the  many 
ijingular  pranks  of  fortune  connected  with 
my.self,  and  particularly  the  wonderful  rev- 
elations of  the  last  si.x  or  eight  hours.  I 
had  been  musing  upon  the  complicated 
weh  of  man's  e.xistence,  and  already  had 
my  thoughts  began  to  wander  as  in  a 
dream. 

A  rumbling  sound,  like  the  roaring  of  a 
distant  waterfall,  caught  my  ear.  Gradu- 
ally it  grew  louder  and  nearer,  until  I  fan- 
cied I  could  detect  the  pattering  of  a  horse's 
feet  upon  the  hard  earth.  Nearer  and 
nearer  it  came,  and  I  found  my  impression 
confirmed.  It  was  a  horse  at  full  speed 
— but  what  could  it  mean!  Suddenly  Ted- 
dy sprang  up,  and  tightly  grasped  his  rifle. 
We  now  both  darted  outside  the  circle  of 
wagons.  By  the  dim  light,  we  beheld  a 
horse  and  rider  rapidly  dashing  up  the 
valley.  The  next  moment  the  beast  was 
reined  in  to  a  dead  halt,  some  twenty  yards 
distant. 

"  Who  goes  there!"  I  cried. 

"  A  friend,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  clear, 
silvery  voice.  ''  Be  on  your  guard,  or  you 
ft'ill  be  surprised  by  Indians!" 

Heavens!  I  should  know  those  tones! 
Could  it  be  possible! 

"  Prairie  Flower!"  I  called. 

"  Ha!  who  are  you7"  was  the  answer; 
and  the  next  moment  the  coal  black  pony, 
and  his  beautifui,  mysterious  rider,  stood 
by  my  side. 

"  Prairie  Flower!  and  do  we  indeed  meet 
again!" 

"  Who  areys^u!"  said  she,  bending  down 
to  scrutinize  my  features.  "  Ha!  is  it  in- 
deed possible!"  she  continued,  with  no  lit- 
tle agitation,  as  she  recognized  me.  "How 
you  have  altered!  I — I — but  I  have  no  time 
to  talk.  must  not  be  seen  here.  It 
would  cost  me  my  life.  I  may  see  you 
again.  Be  on  your  guard!  How  strange! 
I  never  thought  to  see  you  again 
go!" 

These  sentences  were  uttered  rapidly, 
almost  incoherently,  while  the  voice  of  the 
speaker  trembled,  and  there  seemed  awild- 
uess  in  her  manner.     On  concluding,  she 


tightened   her  rein   a         to  depart — but 
still  lingered,  as  if  to  add  something  more. 

"  Heaven  bless  you,  Prairie  Flower!  you 
are  always  seeking  the  good  of  others." 

She  sighed,  turned  her  head  away,  and 
strove  to  say,  carelessly: 

"  Your  friend — I — I — is  well — is  he!" 

"Alas!  I  cannot  answer." 

"  Ha!  what!  how!"  she  cried,  quickly, 
turning  full  upon  me  and  grasping  my  arm, 
which  chanced  to  be  resting  on  the  neck 
of  her  pony.  "Explain!"  and  I  felt  her 
grasp  tighten. 

I  hurriedly  narrated  our  last  parting. 

For  some  moments  she  did  not  reply, 
while  her  whole  frame  trembled  violently. 
At  length  she  withdrew  her  hand,  tighten- 
ed the  rein  again,  and  gasped  the  single 
word, 

"  Farewell!" 

Ere  I  had  time  for  another  syllable,  her 
horse  was  speeding  away  like  the  wind ;  and 
ere  I  had  recovered  from  my  surprise,  both 
were  lost  in  the  darkness. 

So  sudden  had  all  this  happened,  that 
I  felt  completely  bewildered.  Was  I 
dreaming!  A  word  Irom  Teddy  aroused 
me.  Despatching  him  to  the  trappers,  to 
ask  their  assistance,  I  flew  back  to  the 
larger  encampment  and  gave  the  alarm. 
Instantly  the  whole  camp  was  in  commo- 
tion; and  amid  the  screams  of  women  and 
children,  the  men  grasped  their  arms,  and 
sprung  from  their  coverts,  excited  and  pale, 
but  ready  to  meet  danger  without  flinching, 
in  defence  of  those  whose  lives  they  prized 
above  their  own. 

I  hurried  round  the  camp,  to  quiet  the 
fears  of  the  weaker  members,  by  telling 
them  there  was  little  or  no  danger — that 
the  Indians,  if  they  came  at  all,  finding  us 
ready  to  receive  them,  would  not  risk  an 
attack.  In  this,  much  to  my  surprise,  I 
was  shortly  aided  by  Lilian  and  Eva,  both 
of  whom  displayed  a  heroic  coolness,  and 
presence  of  mind,  and  fearlessness  of  dan- 
ger, for  which,  among  all  the  virtues  I  had 
I  must!  allowed  them,  I  had  given  them  no  credit 
whatever.  Had  I  been  required,  before  this 
event,  to  select  the  most  timid  of  the  par- 
ty, I  should  have  pointed  them  out  first. 
Modest,  unassuming,  retiring  in  their  man- 
ners, weak  in  physical  powers,  unused  to 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


125 


hardships  and  dangers,  with  a  superior  re- 
finement in  thought  and  feeling — I  had 
supposed  them  the  first  to  shrink  at  any 
alarm.  Judge  of  my  astonishment,  then, 
when  I  saw  them  gliding  over  the 
earth,  as  over  a  soft  carpet,  and,  with 
scarcely  an  appearance  of  fear,  by  their 
acta  and  language,  shaming  the  more 
frightened  to  silence.  The  arrival  of  the 
trappers,  too — well  armed — and  their  seem- 
ing indifference  to  danger,  reassured  all  in 
a  measure,  and  served  to  restore  order 
and  quiet. 

Hastily  organizing,  we  marched  outside 
the  wagons,  and  took  up  our  position  so  as 
to  watch  and  guard  any  point  of  compass, 
not  knov/ing  at  which  the  foe  might  make 
his  appearance  and  onset. 

All  relapsed  into  silence,  in  which  man- 
ner an  hour  was  passed,  and  we  were  be- 
ginning to  think  the  alarm  false,  when  one 
of  the  men  espied  a  dark  object,  as  he  fan- 
cied, slowly  nearing  him. 

Without  a  second  thought,  crack  went 
his  rifle,  and  instantly,  as  if  by  magic,  a 
dark  spot  to  the  north  of  us  became  peo- 
pled by  some  fifty  savages,  who,  finding 
themselves  discovered,  and  doubtless  think- 
ing this  the  alarm  of  the  sentinel,  uttered 
frightful  yells,  and  sprang  forward  in  a 
body.  Rushing  to  the  point  of  attack,  we 
hastily  formed  a  line,  and  placing  our  rifles 
to  our  shoulders,  silently  waited  until  not 
more  than  twenty  yards  divided  us  from 
the  main  body  of  our  enemies. 

"  Fire!"  cried  a  voice;  and  instantly  a 
dozen  rifles  poured  their  deadly  contents 
among  the  dusky  horde,  with  good  effect, 
as  could  be  told  by  several  frightful  groans 
of  pain. 

This  was  a  reception  the  savages  had 
not  counted  on,  and  they  in  turn  became 
alarmed.  Suddenly  pausing,  they  uttered 
yells  of  dismay,  and  discharging  their 
pieces  at  random,  the  balls  of  which  whis- 
tled past  us  without  a  single  injury,  they 
turned  and  fled  precipitately.  The  victory 
was  ours,  and  to  Prairie  Flower  we  owed 
our  lives.  The  remainder  of  the  night 
we  kept  to  our  arms,  but  were  not  again 
disturbed,  and  by  sunrise  the  whole  party 
was  on  the  move  up  the  mountain. 

As, I  could  not  think  of  pwting  with  my 


friends  (above  all  with  Lilian)  in  the 
wilderness,  I  resolved  to  accompany  them 
to  their  destination,  and  then  to — to — I 
acarcely  knew  what.  Teddy  of  course 
went  with  mo,  and  the  trajipers,  out  of 
friendship,  bore  us  company  many  days. 

I  shall  not  weary  you,  reader,  with  a  de- 
tail of  all  the  little  incidents  of  our  tedious 
progress  to  Oregon  City.  Suffice,  that  it 
was  such  as  all  emigrants  experience  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  and  was  attended 
with  a  succession  of  scenes  similar  to 
those  described  throughout  these  pages. 
As  I  had  predicted,  the  health  of  Mrs. 
Huntly  was  gradually  restored;  and  within 
ten  days  from  the  commencement  of  her 
convalescence,  she  declared  herself  as 
well  as  at  any  period  of  her  life,  and  that 
the  word  of  her  young  doctor,  as  she  jo- 
kingly termed  me,  wa&  equal  in  effect  to 
the  combined  virtues  of  the  whole  materia 
j  medica. 

The  return  of  Mrs.  Huntly's  strength 
and  spirits,  brought  pleasure  to  ihe  eye  and 
bloom  to  the  cheek  of  Lilian,  which  my 
daily  presence,  as  I  was  vain  enough  to 
flatter  myself,  did  not  tend  to  dissipate. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  (and  I  leave  the  reader 
to  judge)  this  long  journey,  so  full  of 
hurdship  and  peril,  hovve7er  unpleasant 
it  might  have  proved  to  her  and  to  others, 
I  must  ever  look  back  to  with  pleasure, 
as  one  of  the  happiest  periods  of  ray  so  far 
eventful  life. 

Crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  the 
well  known  South  Pass,  we  continued  00 
the  regular  Oregon  ronte-— passed  Fort 
Hall — went  down  the  Snake  ri^er  and  over 
the  Salmon  Mountains  to  Fort  Boise — 
through  the  country  of  Shoshones,  or  Snake 
Indians,  over  the  Blue  Mountains  to  Fort 
Walla  Walla,  on  the  Columbia — down  the 
Columbia,  over  the  Cascade  Range,  to  Or- 
egon City,  on  the  pleasant  little  Willa- 
mette^where  we  all  safely  arrived  about 
the  middle  of  December. 

At  this  period,  as  I  before  remarked, 
Oregon  City  existed  only  in  name — being, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  log  houses, 
(erected  during  the  summer  and  fall  pre- 
vious, by  a  few  emigrants  who  had  reached 
here  in  advance  of  our  party,)  a  complete 
wilderness,    The  appearance  of  the  place , 


126 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


so  different  from  what  they  had  expected 
to  find  it,  disheartened  my  worthy  friends 
not  a  little ;  and  had  such  a  thing  then  been 
possible,  1  believe  they  would  at  once  have 
returned  to  their  native  land.  But  this 
was  out  of  the  question;  there  was  no  help 
for  their  oversight  now,  only  by  making 
thTB  best  of  a  bad  bargain;  and  so,  after 
having  grumbled  to  their  hearts'  content — 
wished  Oregon  for  the  thousandth  time  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  themselves  back 
home  as  many — they  set  to  work  in  earn- 
est, to  provide  themselves  homes  for  the 
winter, '  declaring  that  spring  should  see 
them  on  their  way  to  the  States. 

With  proper  energy,  properly  directed, 
a  gi-eat  deal  may  be  accomplished  in  a  very 
short  time;  and  in  less  than  two  weeks 
from  their  earnest  commencement,  no  less 
than  eight  or  ten  cabins  were  added  to  the 
few  already  there.  Into  these  the  differ- 
ent families  removed,  Teddy  and  I  taking 
up  our  abode  in  that  appropriated  to  Mrs. 
Huntly. 

Although  without  any  effects  save  such 
as  had  been  brought  with  them,  and  short 
of  provisions  also,  yet,  by  one  means  and 
another,  all  managed  to  get  through  the 
winter  as  comfortably  as  could  be  expect- 
ed; and  instead  of  preparing  to  return, 
spring  found  the  majority  of  the  new  set- 
tlers entering  lands,  determined  on  making 
this  their  future  residence,  be  the  conse- 
quences what  they  might. 

Some  three  or  four,  among  v.^hom.  was 
Madame  Mortimer  and  her  daughter,  were 
still  disaffected,  and  would  gladly  have  re- 
traced their  steps;  but  they  could  not  find 
companions  enough  to  make  the  journey 
safe,  and  therefore,  against  their  will,  were 
forced  to  remain. 

Oregon  City  I  found  beautifullj'  located 
on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Willamette, 
and,  from  what  I  could  judge,  destined,  at 
no  very  distant  period,  to  beeomethe  great 
mart  of  the  Far  West.  Here  I  remained 
through  the  winter,  and  as  it  proved  open 
and  mild,  employed  my  time  in  hunting  and 
fishing,  and  conversing  with  the  only  be- 
ing I  truly  loved.  Had  my  friend  been 
with  me,  I  should  have  looked  upon  the 
place  as  a  perfect  paradise;  but  thoughts 
of  him — of  what  might  be  his  fate — would 


steal  over  me  in  my  most  joyous  moments, 
and  cloud  my  brow  with  gloom.  These 
singular  changes  were  noted  by  Lilian  and 
others  with  feelings  of  surprise,  and  fre- 
quently was  I  questioned  by  the  former  re- 
garding them — but  I  ever  avoided  a  direct 
answer. 

Neither  Lilian  nor  her  mother  knew  the 
true  cause  of  Charles  Huntly's  absence;  and 
though  I  oi'ten  meditated  telling  them,  yet, 
when  it  came  to  the  point,  I  ever  shrunk 
from  the  painful  task  of  making  both  wretch- 
ed. He  might  be  living;  and  the  bare  pos- 
sibility of  such  a  thing,  I  thought  sufficient 
to  justify  me  in  keeping  them  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  what  I  supposed  to  be  his  real 
fate.  Both  fondly  anticipatrd  seeing  him 
the  coming  summer — not  doubting  he  had 
gone  east,  and  that  so  soon  as  he  should 
receive  tidings  of  their  locality,  he  would 
set  out  to  join  them.  I  had  no  such  hopes 
— but  I  dared  not  tell  them  so. 


It  was  a  lovely  day  in  the  spring  of  1843. 
On  the  banks  of  the  romantic  Willamette, 
under  the  shade  of  a  large  tree,  I  was  seat- 
ed. By  my  side — with  her  sweet  face 
averted  and  crimson  with  blushes,  her  right 
hand  clasped  in  mine,  her  left  unconscious- 
ly toying  with  a  beautiful  flower,  which 
failed  to  rival  her  own  fair  self — sat  Lilian 
Huntly.  It  was  one  of  those  peculiar  mo- 
ments which  are  distinctly  remembered 
through  life.  I  had  just  offered  her  my 
hand  and  fortune,  and  was  waiting,  with 
all  the  trembling  impatience  of  a  lovei",  to 
hear  the  result. 

"Say,  Lilian — sweet  Lilian!  will  you 
be  mine?" 

Her  lily  hand  trembled — I  felt  its  velvet- 
like pressure — but  her  tongue  had  lost  the 
power  of  utterence.  It  was  enough;  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  strained  to  my 
heart,  with  a  joy  too  deep  for  words. 

"  And  when  shall  it  be — when  shall  my 
happiness  be  consummated,  dear  Lilian"!" 
I  at  length  ventured  to  ask. 

For  a  time  she  did  not  reply;  then  rais- 
ing her  angelic  face,  and  fastening  her 
soft  beaming  eye,  moist  with  tears  of  joy, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


127 


upon  mine,  she  said,  in  a  low,  sweet,  trem- 
ulous tone: 

"  On  the  day  when  we  are  all  made  glad 
by  the  presence  ef  my  hrotlier." 

"  Alas!"  groaned  I,  mentally,  "that  day- 
may  never  come!" 


The  fate  of  Charles  Huntly— of  the  mys- 
terious Prairie  Flower  and  others — will  be 
given  in  the  Sequel  to  these  Adventures 
151  THE  Far  West. 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 

As  almost  every  one  who  takes  any  in- 
terest in  a  book,  has  some  desire  or  curi- 
osity to  know  how  or  why  it  came  to  be 
written,  and  as  there  are  some  things  of 
which  he  desires  to  speak  particularly,  the 
author,  compiler,  or  editor  of  Prairie  Flow- 
er, (whichever  you  please,  reader,)  has,  af- 
ter due  consideration,  decided  on  giving 
the  information  alluded  to,  in  a  note  to 


idea  of  writing  one  that  should  contain 

NOTHING  but  1' ACT  ] 

Author. — (Becoming  interested  and 
laying  down  his  pen.)  Have  no  objec- 
tions, provided  there  is  fact  enough,  and 
of  a  nature  sufBciently  exciting  to  make 
the  story  interesting  to  the  general  reader. 
Stranger. — (Smiling  complacently,  and 
tapping  his  bundle.)  Got  the  documents 
here,  and  no  mistake.  Every  word  true, 
I  pledge  you  my  honor.  Promise  to  work 
them  up  faithfully,  and  they  are  at  your 
service. 

Author. — (In  doubt.)  But  how  am  I  to 
know  they  contain  only  facts] 

Stranger. — You  have  my  word,  sir! 

Author. — Did  you  write  themi  Do 
they  comprise  a  journal  of  your  own  ad- 
ventures! 

Stranger. — (A  little  testily.)  No 
matter  about  either!  They  contain  noth- 
ing but  facts,  and  that  is  enough  for  any 
reasonable  man  to  know. 

Author. — But  how  am  I  to  know  this"? 
You  must  remember  you  are  a  stranger  to 
me,  sir! 

Stranger. — (Coloring,  and  carelessly 


the  present  volume.     While  engaged  in 

putting  the  finishing  touches  upon  "  Kate   Placing  his  hand  upon  the  breech  of  a  pis 


Clarendon,"*  a  tall,  dark-visaged,  keen- 
eyed  individual  entered  his  sanctum,  ear- 
ly one  morning,  bearing  in  his  hand  a 
bundle  of  no  inferior  size.  Having  stared 
around  the  apartment,  as  if  to  assure  him- 
self there  was  no  mistake,  he  coolly  took 
the  only  remaining  seat,  when  the  follow- 
ing conversation  occurred. 

Stranger. — Mr.  Scribblepen,  I  pre- 
sume? 

Author. — My  name,  sir! 

Stranger. — He-e-m!  (A  pause.)  Write 
novels,     presume,  Mr.  Scribblepen? 

AuTHOfi. — When  I  have  nothing  better 
to  do. 

Stranger. — (After  a  little  reflection.) 
Found  them  on  fact,  eh? 

Author. — Sometimes,  and  sometimes 
draw  rather  freely  on  the  imagination,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

Stranger. — How  would  you  like  the 

*  A  Tale  of  the  Little  Miami,  recently  issued 
in  a  very  neat  cheap  form  by  Strattton  &  Bar- 
nard,      Cincinnati. 


tol,  barely  seen  protruding  from  beneath 
his  waistcoat.)  I  allow  no  one  to  doubt 
my  word,  sir! 

Author. — (A  little  nervous,  and  not 
caring  to  doubt  such  powerful  testimony.) 
O!  ah!  I  see — it  is  all  right,  of  course. 

Stranger. — (Again  smiling  pleasant- 
ly.) So  you  will  undertake  the  job,  Mr. 
Scribblepen,  and  give  facts  in  every  thing 
but  the  most  important  names! 

Author. — I  will  try. 

Stranger. — (Placing  the  package  upon 
the  table  and  rising  as  if  to  go.)  You  can 
have  them,  then.  All  I  ask  is,  that  you 
will  be  a  faithful  chronicler.  The  names 
I  wish  changed,  you  will  find  marked.  I 
have  a  desire  to  see  the  whole  in  print, 
and  you  may  take  all  the  profit  and  what- 
ever credit  you  please,  so  you  keep  fact  in 
view.  The  incidents  are  romantic,  and 
sufiiciently  exciting  for  your  purpose,  with- 
out embellishment.  I  shall  keep  an  eye 
upon  the  publication,  and  you  may  see 
me  again,  or  you  may  not:  I  make  no  pro- 
mises.    Good  m.orning,  sir! 


128 


THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER; 


Author. — (Rising  to  bow  him  out.) 
But  your  name,  stranger,  if  j'ou  pleaeel 

Stranger. — (Hesitating.)  I  am  called 
the  Wanderer.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Scrib- 
blepen! 

Author. — Good  morning,  Mr.  Wander 
er!  (Returns  to  the  mysterious  package, 
opens,  examines  it,  begins  to  read,  gets 
interested,  and  goes  to  bed  the  night  fol- 
lowing minus  dinner  and  supper.) 

Having  shown  you  how  he  became  poe- 
eessed  of  the  facts  of  the  story,  the  author 
would  say  a  few  words  more  and  close. — 
As  regards  the  characters  set  forth  in  the 
preceding  pagres,  he  would  state,  that,  be- 
ing all  real,  some  represent  a  class,  and 
some  an  individual  only.  Prairie  Flower 
is  of  the  latter,  arid  is  draion  from  real  life. 
That  the  proceedings  of  herself  and  tribe 
may  appear  mysterious,  and,  to  some,  at 
first  thought,  (her  locality  and  every  thing 
considered)  out  of  place — the  author  does 
not  doubt;  but  he  believes  that  no  one 
who  is  conversant  with  Indian  history,  and 
especially  with  that  relating  to  the  North- 
western Tribes  and  the  Moravian  Missions, 
during  the  early  settlement  of  Ohio,  will 
find  in  this  character  or  her  tribe  any  thing 
that  may  be  termed  overstrained  or  un- 
natural. That  she  is  a  marked  character, 
distinct  and  peculiar,  and  liable  to  be  mis- 
construed by  those  who  do  not  take  every 
thing  into  consideration,  but  allow  a  first 


fancy  to  have  full  pway — he  admits;  but 
at  the  same  time  would  desire  such  to 
withhold  an  expreseion  of  opinion,  until 
they  shall  have  read  to  the  end,  when  he 
trusts  they  will  find  the  explanation  satis- 
factory. 

It  was  the  intention  of  the  writer  of  the 
foregoing,  at  the  commencement,  to  short- 
en the  materials  on  hand,  so  as  as  to  cm- 
body  the  whole  in  a  single  volume;  but 
when  he  had  accumulated  some  two  hun- 
dred manuscript  pages,  he  found,  much  to 
his  regret,  that  this  could  not  be  done, 
without  striking  out  some  of  the  best 
scenes,  and  otherwise  materially  impairing 
the  work;  and  as  he  feared  both  his  mys- 
terious friend  and  the  reader  would  not  be 
fully  satisfied,  he  at  last  decided  on  giving 
the  whole,  by  adding  a  Sequel,  which  in  re- 
ality is  only  a  second  part  of  the  volume 
in  hand.  In  the  Sequel  to  this,  the  same 
characters  already  introduced  will  be  con- 
tinued,together  with  others,  and  the  whole 
be  terminated  by  a  grand  denouement. 

With  these  remarks,  and  the  simple 
statement  that  the  reader  may  look  upon 
the  scenes  described  as  real,  the  author 
would  take  his  respectful  leave  for  the 
present,  hoping  the  reader  may  find,  if  no- 
thing else  of  interest,  information  regard- 
ing life  in  the  Far  West,  sufficient  to  re- 
pay a  perusal. 

Cincinnati,  Jan.,  1849, 


THE  END. 


LENI-LEOTI; 


OR, 


ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT. 


AUTHOR   OF   THE   "BANDITS   OF   THE   OSAGE,"    "THE   RENEGADE,"  "MIKE   FINK,"  "KATE 

CLARENDON,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


But  O,  the  blooming  prairie, 
Here  are  God's  floral  bowers. 

Of  all  that  he  hath  made  on  earth 
The  love  iest.        *        *        * 

This  is  the  Almighty's  garden, 

And  the  mountains,  stars,  and  sea. 

Are  naught  compared  in  beauty. 
With  God's  Garden  prairie  free. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

STRATTON     &     BARNARD 

CINCINNATI  &   ST.  LOUIS. 

PRINTED  AT  "THE  GREAT  WEST"  OFFICE. 

1849. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849, 

BY  E.   PENROSE  JONES, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  tlie  District  of  Ohio. 


LENI-LEOTI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

STILL  IN  OREGON  CITY — THE  SECRET  UNDI- 
VULGED — A  DILEMMA — RESOLVE  TO  MAKE 
IT  KNOWN — A  STROLL — INTERRUPTION — 
EVA  MORTIMER — BRIEF  ACCOUNT  OF  THE 
MORTIMERS — RESOLVE  TO  GO  IN  SEARCH 
OF    MY    FRIEND, 

It  was  the  last  day  of  May,  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord,  1843.  Already  the  earth  felt 
the  genial  air  of  summer,  and  looked  as 
smiling  as  a  gay  maiden  in  her  teens.  The 
blade  had  covered  the  ground  with  a  car- 
pet of  matchless  green,  amid  v/hich,  their 
lovely  faces  half  concealed,  bright  flowers 
of  a  hundred  varieties  peeped  modestly 
forth  to  render  the  landscape  enchanting, 
giving  their  sweet  breath  to  a  southern 
breeze  that  softly  stole  over  them.  The 
trees  in  every  direction  were  in  full  foliage, 
and  already  among  them  could,  be  seen 
green  bunches  of  embryo  fruits.  It  was 
in  fact  a  delightful  day,  a  delightful  season 
of  the  year,  and  a  delightful  scene  upon 
which  I  gazed,  with  feelings,  alas!  that 
had  more  in  them  of  sadness  than  juy. 

I  was  still  in  Oregon  City;  but  two 
months  had  flown  since  on  the  banks 
of  the  romantic  Willamette  I  offered  my 
hand,  heart  and  fortune  to  Lilian  Huntly, 
and  was  accepted,  only  to  find  the  nuptial 
day  prolonged  to  an  indefinite  period — the 


return  of  my  friend  and  her  brother.  I 
did  not  describe  my  feelings  then  to  the 
reader;  but,  as  he  or  she  must  have  im- 
agined, they  were  very  painful.  I  had  de- 
ceived Lilian  and  her  mother  1  knew,  in 
leading  them  to  hope,  even,  for  the  return 
of  Charles  Huntly,  and  I  felt  stung  to  the 
very  soul  as  one  guilty  of  a  crime.  What 
was  I  to  dol  Should  I  avow  all  to  Lilian 
and  make  her  wretched  by  destroying  all 
hope  of  ever  seeing  Charles  again]  or 
should  I  still  let  her  remain  in  blissful  ig- 
norance of  his  fate,  and  look  in  vain  to 
the  future  for  the  consummation  of  her  ar- 
dent wishes]  It  was  a  painful  dilemma. 
The  first  was  the  most  open,  upright  and 
straight-forward  manner  of  settling  the 
matter,  most  undoubtedly;  and  conscience 
and  a  first  impulse  urged  me  to  it;  but 
then,  a  doubt  in  my  own  mind  that  he  was 
really  dead — a  faint,  a  very  faint  hope  that 
he  might  sometime  return  to  his  friends — 
a  loathing  to  inflict  a  wound  upon  the  af- 
fectionate heart  I  loved,  which  time  alone 
could  heal,  perhaps  cause  needless  suffer- 
ing to  one  who  had  already  suffered  enough 
— restrained  me;  and  between  a  desire  to 
do  right,  and  a  fear  to  do  wrong,  I  did  no- 
thing but  muse  abstractedly,  the  result  of 
which  was,  in  my  own  mind,  to  take  a  day 
for  thought  and  then  decide.  But  the  next 
day  found  me  in  the  same  quandary,  and 
the  next,  and  the  next. 


13 


LENI-LEOTI: 


Thus  days  rolled  on,  one  after  another, 
and  at  the  end  of  a  month  I  was  as  unde- 
cided as  ever;  and  though  daily  basking  in 
the  smiles  of  Lilian,  listening  to  her  art- 
less words  of  musical  sweetness,  not  even 
a  hint  had  I  ever  thrown  out  regarding 
what  I  knew  of  her  brother.  Often  would 
she  mention  him,  but  always  in  a  way  to 
denote  she  scarcely  had  a  doubt  of  seeing 
him  the  coming  summer;  and  the  thought 
that  she  must  be  disappointed,  ever  tended 
to  make  me  sad  and  melancholy.  I  had 
never  objected  to  the  indefinite  period  fix- 
ed on  for  our  wedding,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that,  to  object,  was  only  to  subject 
myself  to  an  inquiry  into  the  cause,  and 
this  I  feared.  What  was  I  to  dof  The 
question  came  up  night  and  day,  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places,  and  troubled  me 
sorely — so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  I  began 
to  fear  its  effects  upon  my  constitution. 

At  last  I  resolved  to  tell  her  all,  and  for 
this  purpose  invited  her  one  morning  to  our 
usual  stroll  on  the  banks  of  the  Willa- 
mette. The  day  was  fine,  and  every  thing 
around  beautiful.  We  took  our  way  di- 
rectly to  the  falls,  and  paused  upon  a  bluff 
immediately  over  the  rolling,  sparkling 
waters.  This  bluff,  which  is  the  bank  of 
the  stream  at  Oregon  City,  varies  from 
twenty  to  eighty  feet  in  height,  and,  run- 
ning back,  forms  the  level  upon  which  the 
town  was  then  just  beginning  to  be  laid 
out.  The  scene  was  charming,  notwith- 
standing it  was  in  the  wilderness.  A  beau- 
tiful forest  stretched  away  on  either  hand 
— below  us  rolled  the  river,  roaring  over 
the  falls — and  on  the  opposite  side  rose 
similar  bluffs,  and  another  pleasant  forest. 
It  seemed  a  place  fitted  for  the  communion 
of  lovers;  and  here  Lilian  and  I  had  whiled 
our  happiest  hours.  Here  I  had  offered 
my  hand  to  her — here  been  accepted — and 
of  course  the  scene  could  not  but  recall 
pleasant  associations.  Hither  then  we 
strayed :  and  as  we  paused  above  the  bright 
river,  Lilian  exclaimed,  with  a  look  of 
joy: 

'•  O,  it  will  be  so  delightful  when  Charles 
joins  us!  Do  you  know  what  I  have  de- 
termined on,  Frank!" 

"  Surely  not,"  I  answered.  \ 

"  Do  you  eee  that  level  yonder,  (point- 


ing down  the  stream)  which  sets  off  so 
pleasantly  below  this,  shaded  by  those  tall 
old  trees'!" 

"  Ay,  I  see,  Lilian." 

"  Well,  there  I  have  planned  having 
such  a  pic-nic,  on  the  day  when — when 
we " 

She  paused,  and  blushed,  and  glanced 
timidly  at  me,  as  if  expecting  I  would  com- 
plete the  sentence.  I  did  not,  for  my  mind 
was  busy  with  sad  thoughts.  Now,  thought 
I,  is  the  time  to  tell  her  all.  But  how 
should  I  begin  to  pain  her!  I  was  uneasy, 
and  felt  miserable,  and  doubtless  looked  as 
I  felt,  for  the  next  moment  she  added,  in 
some  alarm: 

"  Why,  Francis,  what  is  the  matter? — 
You  look  so  pale!  Has  any  thing  hap- 
pened!" 

"  Nothing  new." 

"  What  thenf  You  always  look  so  pain- 
ed when  I  allude  to  brother  Charles! — 
Surely  there  must  be  some  cause!  Have 
you  kept  any  thing  hidden  from  me?  Speak, 
Francis! — you  left  him  well,  did  you  not?" 
and  she  grasped  my  arm,  and  looked  earn- 
estly in  my  face. 

"  I  did,  Lilian." 

"  Well,  what  then?  You  must  have  no 
secrets  from  me  now,  you  know." 

I  must  tell  hor,  I  thought,  and  there  can 
never  be  a  better  time  than  this. 

"  Lilian,"  I  began,  and  my  voice  trem- 
bled as  I  spoke:  "Lilian,  I " 

"  What  ho!  my  lovers,  are  j^ou  here?" 
shouted  a  merry  voice.  "  I  thought  I 
should  find  you  here;"  and  the  next  mo- 
ment we  were  joined  by  the  gay,  light- 
hearted  Eva  Mortimer.  "  In  the  name  of 
humanity,"  she  said,  as  she  came  bounding 
up  to  us,  "  what  makes  you  both  look  so 
pale?  Not  making  love  again,  I  hope;" 
and  she  ended  with  a  ringing  laugh,  which, 
however  pleasant  it  might  have  sounded  at 
another  time,  now  jarred  most  discordantly 
with  the  feelings  of  both. 

"  No,  not  exactly  making  love.  Miss 
Mortiuier,"  1  answered,  turning  to  her  with 
a  forced  smile,  and,  if  truth  must  be  own- 
ed, rather  rejoiced  than  otherwise  that  she 
had  broken  off  what  must  have  proved  a 
painful  interview. 

"  Well,"  she  rejoined,  playfully,  brush- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


13 


ing  back  her  Jark  ringlets  with  one  of  the 
prettiest  white,  dimpled  hands  in  the  world 
— mind  I  say  one  of  the  prettiest,  reader, 
for  of  course  I  considered  Lilian's  equal, 
if  not  superior:  "  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
that,  for  I  feared,  from  your  sober  looks, 
you  were  either  getting  into  a  lover's 
quarrel,  or  going  over  a  nameless  scene 
that  was  enacted  here  some  weeks  ago;" 
and  she  looked  meaningly,  first  at  Lilian, 
who  colored  deeply,  and  then  at  me,  who 
I  fancied  stood  it  like  a  philosopher. — 
"  Come,"  she  added,  in  the  same  gay  tone, 
"  I  have  use  for  you  both  all  day.  We — 
that  is  I,  and  my  good  mother,  and  yours, 
Lilian,  and  some  others — have  decided  on 
going  to  see  a  beautiful  lake,  which,  we 
are  told,  ornaments  a  certain  fern  bluff 
that  you  see  away  yonder,  some  half  mile 
back  of  this  magnificent  city.  City  in- 
deed!" she  continued,  with  a  curl  of  the 
lip.  "  Why,  it  might  be  stolen  from  the 
suburbs  of  Boston,  or  any  other  place  of 
note,  and  never  be  missed.  But  mother 
would  come  in  spite  of  me,  and  when  she 
takes  a  notion  in  her  head  she  must  carry 
it  out.  She  wishes  herself  back  novv',  and 
I  join  her  with  all  my  heart;  but,  heigh- 
ho!  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  spend  my 
days  here,  for  I  see  no  means  of  getting 
away.  But  I  will  teaze  her,  though — I 
am  pledged  to  that — and  that  will  be  some 
comfort,  and  save  me  dying  of  ennui. — 
Oregon  City!  Umph!  I  thought  it  would 
turn  out  to  be  woods  before  I  came,  and  I 
told  her  so — but  she  would  not  believe  me. 
Come,  Mr.  Leighton,  don't  be  standing 
there  looking  so  sober!  nor  you,  my  bon- 
ny Lilian.  I  am  going  to  have  you  along, 
and  if  I  don't  make  you  laugh,  why,  I  will 
turn  in  and  cry  myself.  Only  to  think  of 
being  here  without  a  lover!  It  don't  mat- 
ter with  you,  Lilian,  for  you  have  got  one; 
but  think  of  me, in  pity  do!  Nobody  here 
but  some  thick  headed  rustics,  that  don't 
know  how  to  make  love.  I  wish  your 
brother  would  come,  Lilian — I  am  dying 
to  see  him.  He  saved  my  life,  you  know, 
and  so  I  am  bound,  by  all  the  rales  of  no- 
vels, to  fall  in  k)ve  with  him,  out  of  pure 
gratitude." 

"  You  will  not  need  gratitude,  I  fancy," 
added  I,  with  a  sigh  at  the  thought  of  him. 


"  should  you  ever  be  fortunate  enough  to 
see  him;  for  he  is  a  noble  fellow,  and  one 
I  think  to  your  liking." 

"  Ah!"  she  replied,  "you  need  not  tell 
me  he  is  a  nobis  fellow — for  none  but  such 
would  have  risked  his  life  as  he  did  for  a 
stranger.  I  have  been  in  love  with  him 
ever  since  I  heard  about  it,  though  I  had 
long  ago  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing 
him." 

"  And  he  will  be  ready,  I  will  vouch  for 
him,  to  reciprocate  the  tender  feeling." 

"Bo  you  think  so]"  she  said,  slightly 
blushing,  and  her  eyes  sparkling.  "  O, 
that  will  be  so  romantic!  and  I  love  ro- 
mance dearly.  I  will  have  him  down  upon 
his  knees  at  every  frown,  and  will  frown 
twenty  times  a  day,  just  to  have  him  down 
on  his  knees.  Now  that  will  be  making 
love  to  some  purpose,  eh]"  and  giving 
vent  to  a  ringing  laugh,  she  added,  taking 
my  arm:  "  Come,  don't  let  us  keep  the 
good  people  waiting,  or  they  may  get  off 
the  notion,  and  I  would  not  miss  seeing 
that  lake  for  a  costly  ruby." 

My  design  of  telling  a  sad  tale  was  thus 
broken  off,  and,  as  I  said  before,  I  was  not 
sorry  for  it.  Arm  in  arm  with  the  two,  1 
returned  to  what  was  denominated  the  vil- 
lage, Eva  the  while  chatting  away  gaily, 
flying  from  one  thing  to  another,  but  ever 
adroitly  returning  to  Charles  Huntly,  show- 
ing that  he  now  occupied  no  small  share  of 
her  thoughts. 

From  the  specimen  given,  it  will  be  seen 
that  Eva  Mortimer  was  a  very  different  be- 
ing from  Lilian  Huntly;  and  as  she  is  des- 
tined to  figure  more  conspicuously  in  these 
pages  than  the  previous  ones,  I  consider 
the  present  a  good  opportunity  to  describe 
her. 

la  person,  Eva  Mortimer  was  slightly 
above  medium,  with  a  form  well  developed, 
and  a  bust  of  rare  beauty.  Her  complex- 
ion was  clear  and  dark,  though  scarcely  suf- 
ficient to  entitle  her  to  the  appellation 
of  brunette.  Her  soft,  hazel  eyes,  shaded 
by  silken  lashes,  were  very  expressive,  and 
could  look  love  languishingly,  or  sparklf; 
with  the  poetry  of  mirth,  anger,  or  any  of 
the  passions  of  impulse.  Her  features 
were  regular  and  very  prepossessing,  with 
a  nose  slightly  acquiline,  and  mouth  and 


LENI-LEOTI: 


lips  as  tempting  as  one  would  care  to  look 
upon.  Her  disposition  accorded  witli  her 
looks.  At  heart  slie  was  open  and  gener- 
ous, with  a  desire  to  please  and  be  pleased, 
let  fortune  smile  or  frown.  Her  spirits 
were  almost  ever  buoyant,  and  it  required 
a  strong  cause  to  depress  them.  Very  dif- 
ferent from  some,  she  could  not  easily  be 
brought  to  considcrlhisbrightearthasonjy 
a  grave-yard,  and,  herself  a  mournful  in- 
habitant, ever  stalking  among  tombs.  She 
did  not  believe  in  storm,  and  cloud,  and 
dreariness,  so  much  ^s  in  an  open  sky, 
sunshine,  cheerfulness  and  joy.  It  would 
have  required  great  depth  of  reasoning  to 
convince  her  that  God  had  placed  man 
here  expressly  to  mope  out  his  days  in 
gloom  and  sorrow,  either  real  or  imagin- 
ary. She  did  not  fancy  the  dark  side  of 
the  picture;  and  full  of  the  poetry  of  an 
ardent  temperament,  there  was  to  her  in 
the  sunshine,  the  breeze,  the  leaf,  the 
blade,  the  flower,  the  mount,  the  vale,  the 
storm,  and,  in  fact,  in  every  thing  of  na- 
ture, something  to  excite  joy  rather  than 
sadness.  Whatever  her  fortune,  she  took 
care  to  make  the  best  of  it  and  not  repine. 
She  was  lively  even  to  gaiety,  and  could 
rattle  on  for  hours  in  a  light,  frolicksome 
strain,  calculated  to  mislead  such  as  look 
not  below  the  mere  surface;  but  those  who 
judged  Eva  Mortimer  by  this,  judged  wrong- 
ly; for  beneath  was  a  heart  as  warm,  as 
earnest,  as  pure,  as  true,  as  ever  beat  in 
the  breast  of  woman.  This  was  the  drift, 
the  foam,  that  floated  along  on  the  strong 
current  of  a  noble  mind.  Had  you  seen 
and  listened  to  her  in  her  merry  moods, 
you  would  have  thought,  perhaps,  she  had 
no  mind  above  trifles,  or  beyond  the  mere 
present;  that  she  was  vain  and  coquettish 
to  a  fault;  that  she  would  take  no  delight 
in  serious  meditation;  and  yet  you  could 
not  easily  have  erred  more  in  judgment. 
I  have  seen  her  alone,  in  the  night,  gazing 
at  the  stars  for  hours,  when  she  thought 
no  human  eye  beheld  her.  I  have  watch- 
ed her  musing  over  a  flower,  while  leaf  by 
leaf  she  dissected  it,  as  if  to  lay  hare  its 
mysteries — over  the  pebbles  which  she 
had  gathered  in  some  ramble — over  a  leaf, 
a  blade  of  grass,  and,  in  fact,  over  what- 
ever had  chanced  in  her  path — in  a  way 


to  show  her  possessed  oi  mind,  and  that 
of  the  highest  order. 

There  were  but  few  in  her  present  lo- 
cality who  really  knevy  Eva  Mortimer,  and 
none  who  seemed  to  appreciate  her  as  did 
Lilian.  In  their  short  acquaintance,  these 
two  bright  beings  had  become  friends;  not 
the  cold,  unmeaning  term  of  the  world — 
but  friends  sincere  and  true,  and  bound  by 
a  tie  beyond  the  power  of  death  itself  to 
sever.  Like  the  magnet  and  the  needle 
had  they  come  together,  to  be  held  by  at- 
tractions peculiar  to  themselves.  To  each 
other  their  hearts  were  ever  open,  and  the 
joys  and  sorrov.-s  of  the  one,wero  the  joy$ 
and  sorrows  of  the  other.  They  talked  to- 
gether, walked  together,  read  together, 
(each  had  brought  a  few  choice  books) 
sang  together,  and  both  ever  seemed  hap- 
pier on  all  occasions  for  the  other's  pre- 
sence. They  were  nearly  of  the  same 
age,  of  different  temperaments,  and  uni- 
ted like  ihe  different  strings  of  a  harp,  to 
bring  forth  nothing  but  music.  In  short, 
they  loved  each  other — not  with  the  eva- 
nescent love  of  fiery  passion,  which  burns 
and  freezes  alternately — but  with  that 
deeper  and  truer  love  which  springs  from 
admiration  of,  and  dependence  on,  in  a 
measure,  the  qualities  we  do  not  possess 
ourselves.  It  was  a  holy  love — the  love 
of  two  fair  maidens  just  budding  into  wo- 
manhood. 

Am  I  getting  tedious,  reader — presum- 
ing too  muchupon  your  indulgence — keep- 
ing you  too  long  from  the  more  exciting 
part  of  my  story]  Well,  then,  I  will  press 
forward;  for  much  is  to  be  said  and  done 
ere  my  task  be  finished. 

Of  the  early  history  of  Eva  Mortimer,  I 
at  this  time  knew  but  little,  and  this  I  had 
gleaned  from  Lilian.  Her  mother,  a  wo- 
man between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age, 
was  a  native  of  England,  of  wealthy  pa- 
rentage, but  not  of  noble  birth.  Some 
twenty-five  year*  before  the  date  of  these 
events,  she  had  clandestinely  married  a 
^French  exile,  apparently  without  name  or 
fortune,  rather  for  the  love  of  romance, 
and  because  she  was  strongly  opposed  by 
her  friends,  than  for  any  real  affertion 
which  she  felt  toward  the  individual  him- 
self.    This  proceeding  ha.d  so  incensed  her,- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


15 


parents,  that  they  had  cast  her  off;  but 
unlike  most  parents  in  such  cases,  unwill- 
ing she  should  suffer  too  much,  had  offered 
her  a  life  annuity  above  want,  on  condi- 
tion she  quitted  the  country  immediately 
and  returned  to  it  no  more.  To  this  she 
had  readily  assented,  and  shortly  after, 
with  her  husband,  had  embarked  for  Ameri- 
ca, and  had  finally  settled  at  Quebec,  in 
Canada,  where  for  several  years  they  had 
continued  to  live  together,  though  not,  it 
must  be  confessed,  in  the  most  harmonious 
manner.  Being  rather  head-strong  and  self- 
willed,  and  withal  possessed  of  an  indepen- 
dence, Madame  Mortimer  sought  to  have 
every  thing  her  own  way,  and  had  not 
scrupled  occasionally  to  make  her  husband 
feel  he  was  her  debtor  for  every  luxury  he 
enjoyed.  Of  a  proud  spirit,  and  a  temper 
somewhat  irritable,  he  had  not  displayed 
any  too  much  Christian  humility,  meek- 
ness and  resignation,  and  many  a  bitter 
quarrel  had  been  the  consequence. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
yea.rs  she  had  given  birth  to  female  twins. 
Both  had  been  hoping  for  a  male  heir;  and 
consequently  this  event,  instead  of  mend- 
ing, had  rather  served  to  widen  the  breach. 
Quarrel  succeeded  quarrel,  and  as  love  was 
wanting  to  harmonize  two  opposing  spir- 
its, it  was  at  last  found  necessary  to  sepa- 
rate. Two  years  had  passed  meantime, 
when  one  morning  Mortimer  came  into 
the  presence  of  his  wife,  with  a  letter  in 
his  hand,  and  abruptly  announced  his  in- 
tention of  leaving  her. 

"  As  you  like,"  returned  Madame  Morti- 
mer, coolly. 

Mortimer  turned  and  left  her,  nor  had 
she  ever  beheld  him  since.  The  night 
following,  the  twin  sister  of  Eva  disap- 
peared, and  the  most  diligent  inquiries,  to- 
gether with  the  offer  of  a  large  reward, 
had  failed  in  restoring  her  to  her  anxious 
mother.  The  effect  of  this  upon  Madame 
Mortimer  proved  very  severe — for  she  lov- 
ed both  her  children  dearly — and  a  nervous 
fever  was  the  result,  which  nearly  cost 
her  her  life.  Soon  after  this  she  re- 
ceived news  of  her  father's  death,  and  that, 
having  repented  his  rashness,  he  had  left 
her  a  rich  legacy,  with  permission  to  re- 
-fcurn  to  England-.     To  England,  therefore, 


she  went,  and  there  had  remained,  super- 
intending the  education  of  Eva,  until  a  de- 
sire of  travel  had  brought  her  once  more 
to  this  country,  whither  she  had  come  in 
company  with  her  daughter  and  a  wealthy 
American  lady,  whose  acquaintance  had 
been  made  across  the  water,  and  who  sub- 
sequently introduced  her  into  New  York 
society,  simply  as  Madame  Mortimer,  with- 
out a  word  of  explanation,  this  being  at 
her  own  earnest  request.  Thus  it  was,  as 
I  have  before  mentioned,  none  who  met 
her  in  society  had  been  able  to  learn  who 
she  was  or  w«hence  she  came,  and  this  had 
doubtless  added  to  her  popularity.  This 
was  all  I  had  been  able  to  gather  from 
Lilian,  and  all,  in  fact,  she  knew;  and  this 
had  been  picked  up  at  different  times,  from 
remarks  that  had  escaped  the  lips  of  Eva 
in  her  more  communicative  moods. 

In  person,  Madame  Mortimer  was  large, 
with  a  full,  handsome  countenance,  ex- 
pressive black  eyes,  and  a  bearing  digni- 
fied and  queen-like.  At  heart  she  was 
kind  and  affectionate;  and  doubtless,  had 
she  been  properly  mated,  would  have  made 
an  exemplary  wife.  Her  passions,  when 
excited,  were  strong  to  violence,  with  a 
temper  haughty  and  unyielding  to  an  equal, 
but  subdued  and  mild  to  an  inferior.  She 
loved  passionately,  and  hated  madly.  With 
her,  as  a  general  thing,  there  was  no  me- 
dium. She  liked  or  disliked,  and  carried 
both  to  extremes.  She  was  a  woman  of 
strong  mind,  much  given  to  thought  anil 
reflection,  an  acute  observer  of  every  thing 
around  her,  and  just  sufficiently  eccentric 
to  throw  the  freshness  of  originality  over 
all  she  said  or  did.  She  would  do  what 
she  thought  was  proper,  without  regard  to 
the  opinions  of  others,  or  what  the  world 
would  say.  She  had  resolved  on  a  jour- 
ney to  Oregon,  not  for  any  particular  pur- 
pose, but  merely  to  carry  out  a  whim  and 
see  the  country.  She  had  done  both,  was 
dissatisfied  with  her  present  locality,  and 
now  designed  returning  to  the  States  ths 
first  favorable  opportunity. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression. 
Of  the  fate  of  her  brother,  Lilian  still 
remained  ignorant;  for  after  the  interrup- 
tion of  Eva,  I  could  never  summon  enough 
moral  courage  to  again  attempt  the  B&d, 


16 


LENI-LEOTI: 


narration.  As  time  rolled  on,  I  became 
more  and  more  depressed  in  spirits,  and 
more  perplexed  as  to  the  course  I  should 
pursue.  It  was  not  impossible,  I  began 
to  reason,  that  Charles  Huntly  might  be 
living;  and  the  more  I  pondered  on  this, 
the  more  I  was  inclined  to  believe  it  the 
case.  He  had  been  lost  mysteriously,  in 
a  part  of  the  world  notoriously  infested 
with  robbers  and  Indians.  If  captured  by 
the  former,  there  was  no  argument  against 
the  supposition  that  he  had  been  plundered 
and  sold  into  slavery.  If  by  the  latter, 
might  he  not  have  been  adopted  by  some 
tribe,  and  now  be  a  prisoner!  In  either 
case,  was  I  not  in  duty  bound  to  go  in 
quest  of  him — and,  if  found,  rescue  him 
from  a  horrible  doom,  either  by  ransom  or 
force!  At  all  events,  I  said  to  myself,  I 
can  but  fail,  and  viay  succeed. 

On  leaving  home,  I  had  supplied  myself 
with  a  large  amount  of  gold,  to  meet  all 
contingencies,  and  but  little  of  this  had 
been  expended.  I  could,  perhaps,  engage 
a  party,  for  a  reasonable  sum,  to  accom- 
pany me;  and  this,  after  duly  weighing  all 
the  circumstances,  I  had  decided  to  at- 
tempt, on  the  morning  I  have  chosen  for 
the  opening  of  this  chapter.  I  would  let 
Lilian  and  the  others  suppose  I  had  gone 
home,  and  that  I  should  probably  return 
with  Charles  Huntly.  Having  settled  the 
matter  in  my  own  mind,  I  resolved  on  im- 
mediate action,  and  for  this  purpose  called 
Teddy  aside  to  communicate  my  inten- 
tion. 

"  Teddy,"  I  began,  gravely,  "  did  you 
love  your  former  master?" 

"  Me  masther!"  repeated  the  Irishman, 
with  a  look  of  curious  inquiry;  "and  sure, 
of  who  is't  ye're  spaking,  your  honor]" 

"  Of  Charles  Huntly." 

"  Did  I  love  him,  is'tl  Faith,  and  does 
a  snapping  turkle  love  to  bite,  or  a  thrunk- 
ard  to  thrink,  that  ye  ax  me  that  now! — 
Love  him]  Troth,  and  was  he  living,  I'd 
go  to  the  ind  of  the  world  and  jump  off 
jist  to  plase  him,  and  so  1  would." 

"  Maybe,  Teddy,  you  can  serve  him  more 
effectually  than  by  a  proceeding  so  dan- 
gerous." 

"  Sarve  him,  is't!  Och,  now,  I'd  be  af- 
ther  knowing  that  same!" 


"  I  have  taken  a  fancy  into  my  head  that 
he  is  living." 

"  Howly  St.  Pathrick!  ye  don't  say  the 
likes!"  exclaimed  the  Hibernian,  holding 
up  both  hands  in  astonishment.  "Ye're 
joking,  sure,  your  honor]" 

"  No,  Teddy,  I  am  serious  as  a  judge.  I 
have  always  had  some  faint  doubts  of  his 
death,  and  now  those  doubts  have  grown 
strong  enough  to  induce  me  to  set  off  in 
search  of  him;"  and  I  proceeded  to  give 
my  reasons. 

"  Ah,  sure,"  said  Teddy,  as  I  concluded, 
"  this  is  a  happy  day  for  me  mother's  son, 
if  nothing  comes  on't  but  parting  wid — 
wid " 

"  But,  Teddy,  I  had  designed  taking  you 
along." 

"  And,  sure,  Misther  Leighton,  isn't  it 
going  I  is  wid  ye,  now]  D'ye  think  I'd  be 
afther  staying  behind,  like  a  spalpeert,and 
ye  away  afther  Misther  Huntly,  pace  to 
his  ashes,  barring  that  he's  got  no  ashes  at 
all,  at  all,  but  is  raal  fiish  and  blood  like 
your  own  bonny  self,  that's  one  of  the 
kindest  gintlemen  as  iver  wore  out  shoe- 
maker's fixings,  and  made  the  tailor  blush 
wid  modesty  for  the  ixcillent  fit  of  his 
coat]" 

"  But  you  spoke  of  parting,  Teddy]" 

"  Ah,  troth,  and  ye  a  gallant  yourself, 
your  honor,  and  not  sae  it  was  a  wee  bit 
of  a  female  parthing  I's  mintioning,  jist]" 

"  Female  parting!  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

Here  Teddy  scratched  his  head,  and  look- 
ed not  a  little  confused, 

"  Why,  ye  sae,  your  honor,"  he  replied, 
hesitatingly,  "  ye  sae  the  womens  (Heaven 
bliss  their  darling  sowls!)  is  all  loveabie 
crathvu's,  and  it's  mesilf  that  likes  to  maat 
'em  whereiver  I  goes;  but  someKow,  your 
honor,  a  chap's  like  to  be  thinking  of  one, 
more  in  particular  by  raason  of  his  nathur: 
and  that's  the  case  wid  mesilf  now,  and 
Molly  Stubbs  that  lives  yonder,  barring 
that  it's  hardly  living  at  all  she  is  in  this 
wild  counthry." 

The  truth  flashed  upon  me  at  once. — 
One  of  the  settlers,  who  had  come  here  in 
advance  of  my  friends,  had  a  large,  buxom, 
rosy-cheeked  daughter  of  eighteen,  who 
went   by   the   euphonious   appellation   of 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


17 


Molly  Slubbs — sometimes  Big  Molly — 
and  I  now  remembered  having  seen  Teddy 
idling  about  the  premises,  though  at  the 
time  without  a  suspicion'of  the  real  cause. 

"  And  so,  Teddy,  you  have  been  making 
love,  eh]" 

"  Divil  a  bit,  your  honor." 

"How]  what!" 

"  No!  ye  sae  it  was  all  made  to  me  hand, 
and  I've  ounly  been  acting  it  out,  jist." 

"  Aha!  exactly.  And  so  you  think  you 
can  part  with  your  belle  ami,  ehl" 

"And  sure,  if  it's  Molly  Stubbs  ye 
Diaan  by  that  Lathin,  it's  mesilf  that  can 
say  the  farewell  handsome,  now." 

"  Well,  make  your  parting  short,  and 
then  see  to  having  the  horses  got  ready, 
for  in  less  than  three  hours  we  must  be  in 
our  saddles." 

With  this  I  turned  away,  and  with  slow 
steps  and  a  heart  by  no  means  the  light- 
est, sought  theresidenceof  Lilian,  to  com- 
municate the  unpleasant  intelligence,  that 
in  a  few  minutes  we  must  part,  perhaps  to 
meet  no  more. 


CHAPTER    II. 

INFORM  MY  FEIENDfe  OF  MY  RESOLVE — THEIR 
SURPRISE  —  DEPARTURE  POSTPONED  ONE 
DAY  — PREPARATIONS  —  GENERAL  LEAVE- 
TAKING — TRYING  INTERVIEW  WITH  LIL- 
IAN, AND  FINAL  ADIEU. 

As  I  neared  the  residence  of  Mrs. 
Huntly  and  Lilian,  (which  had  also  been 
mine  for  some  months)  for  the  purpose  of 
bidding  my  friends  another  long  adieu,  I 
heard  the  merry  voice  and  ringing  laugh 
of  Eva  Mortimer.  Another  time  this 
would  have  been  music  to  my  ears,  but 
now  my  spirits  were  greatly  depressed, 
and  I  was  not  in  a  mood  to  appreciate  it. 
The  cabin — it  would  scarcely  bear  a  more 
exalted  title — seemed  surrounded  vvith  an 
air  of  gloom.  It  was  as  good  as  any,  bet- 
ter than  most,  v.hich  formed  the  village  of 
Oregon  City;  but  yet,  what  a  place  to  be 
the  abode  of  those  who  had  been  used  all 
their  lives  to  the  luxurious  mansion  of 
wealth! — and  I  could  not  avoid  making  a 


comparison  between  the  condition  of  the 
tenants  now,  and  when  I  had  approached 
to  bid  them  farewell  some  three  years  be- 
fore— nor  of  thinking  with  what  Chris- 
tian-like resignation  they  had  borne,  and 
still  bore,  their  misfortunes.  Their  present 
dwelling  was  built  of  unhewn  logs,  whose 
crevices  were  filled  with  clay,  had  a  thatch- 
ed roof,  puncheon  floors,  and  three  apart- 
ments. One  of  these  had  been  assigned 
to  Teddy  and  myself,  another  to  Lilian 
and  her  mother,  and  the  third  answered 
the  treble  uses  of  parlor,  sitting-room  and 
kitchen.  A  few  beds  and  bedding,  a  ta- 
ble, one  or  two  chairs,  together  with  a  few 
benches,  and  the  most  common  household 
utensils,  comprised  the  principal  furniture. 
And  this  was  the  abode  of  the  lovely  and 
once  wealthy  heiress,  Lilian  Huntly!  And 
she  could  seem  contented  here!  What  a 
happy  spirit,  to  adapt  itself  to  all  circum- 
stances— to  blend  itself,  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press it,  with  every  fortune! 

With  this  reflection  I  crossed  the  thresh- 
hold,  and  beheld  Lilian  and  Eva  in  gay 
conversation,  and  Mrs.  Huntly  seated  by 
the  table,  perusing  a  book.  Both  the 
young  ladies  turned  to  me  as  I  entered, 
and  Eva  at  once  exclaimed: 

"  So,  Mr.  Francis,  you  have  just  come 
in  time — we  have  it  all  settled." 

"May  I  inquire  whati"  returned  I, 
gravely. 

"  May  you  inquire  what?"  she  repeated, 
with  a  playful  curl  of  the  lip.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  starch,  ministerial  look, 
Lilian? — as  grave  is  he  as  a  sexton.  Why, 
one  would  suppose  all  his  friends  were  dead, 
and  he  had  ceme  to  invite  us  to  the  funer- 
al. Heigh-ho!  if  ever  I  get  a  lover,' he 
shall  wear  no  such  look  as  that;  if  he  do, 
it  will  be  at  the  risk  of  having  his  hair 
combed  and  powdered,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  I  have  reason  for  looking  grave," 
I  replied. 

"Eh!  what!"  cried  Eva,  changing  in- 
stantly her  whole  expression  and  manner: 
"  Surely  you  have  no  bad  news  for  us?" 
and  she  approached  and  laid  her  hand  upoH 
my  arm,  with  a  troubled  look,  while  Lilian 
sunk  down  upon  a  seat,  as  if  she  had  some 
sad  foreboding,  and  Mrs.  Huntly  turned 
her  eyes  upon  me  inquiringly. 


18 


LENI-LEOTI: 


*'  Give  yourselves  no  alarm,"  I  hastened 
to  reply.  "  I  have  only  come  to  say  we 
iHust  separate  for  a  time." 

*  Indeed!"  exclaimed  Eva,  looking  se- 
rious. 

"  You  have  heard  tidings  of  Charles!" 
added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

I  glanced  at  Lilian,  but  she  said  not  a 
word,  though  all  color  had  forsaken  her 
features. 

"  No,  I  have  not  heard  from  Charles,"  1 
rejoined,  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Huntly;  "  but 
presume  I  shall  ere  I  return." 

"  Good  heavens!  then  you  are  going 
larl"  cried  Eva,  in  astonishment. 

"  I  contemplate  making  a  journey  to  the 
east,  and  may  meet  Charles  on  the  w^ay, 
in  which  case  I  shall  return  at  once — 
otherwise,  I  may  be  absent  the  sum- 
mer." 

"  Why,  Francis,  what  has  made  you  re- 
solve thus  so  suddenly?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Huntly.  "  How  are  we  to  do  without  you? 
I  thought — (she  paused  and  glanced  to- 
ward Lilian,  who  had  turned  her  head  aside 
and  seemed  deeply  aflected,) — that — that 
you  intended  to  pass  the  summer  with  us." 

"  Cruel  man,"  said  Eva,  in  a  whisper, 
"  how  can  you  leave  the  sweetest  being  on 
earth]  O,  you  men!"  And  then  she  con- 
tinued aloud:  "I  wish  we  were  all  going 
v/ith  you.    Can  you  not  take  us  all  along]" 

"  Why,  I  fear  it  would  not  be  safe." 

"  As  safe  as  it  is  here,  I  am  certain. — 
Surely  we  could  not  be  more  than  killed 
if  we  went,  and  who  knows  but  some 
of  these  Indians,  that  are  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  our  great  city  here,  may  take  a 
notion  we  have  lived  long  enough,  and  so 
murder  us  all,  or  marry  us,  which  would 
be  the  same  thing!  But  whoever  knew  a 
gentleman  gallant  enough  to  do  what  was 
asked  of  him  I  Ah!  I  see — you  don't  even 
listen  now — your  thoughts  are  all  with 
somebody  else — and  bo  I  will  retire.  Let 
me  know  vjhen  it  is  over,  as  I  wish  to  bid 
you  adieu;"  and  she  dtirted  out  of  the 
room. 

Mrs.  Huntly  was  on  the  point  of  intcr- 
rogatinij  me  farther,  but  perceiving  by  a 
sign  from  Lilian  thattiie  latter  wished  to 
*!0e  me  alone,  she  made  some  excuse  and 
^^•ent  into  an  adjoining  apartment.     The 


moment  she  had  disappeared,  Lilian  sprang 
up  and  flew  into  my  arms. 

"Is  this  true,  Francis?"  she  exclaim- 
ed.    "  Are  you  really  going  to  leave  me]" 

"  I  fear  I  must  for  a  time,"  I  said,  in  a 
not  very  firm  voice. 

"  A  long  time  then,"  sighed  the  fair  girl; 
"  a  long  time,  if  you  are  going  east.  O, 
Francis,  I  did  not  think  we  should  part  so 
soon!  What  have  you  heard?  Some- 
thing, surely — for  you  have  never  intima- 
ted this  before — and  you  would  not  deceive 
one  who  loves  you!" 

This  was  said  so  touchingly,  with  such 
naivete,  that  for  a  lime  I  only  replied  by 
pressing  her  more  closely  to  my  heart,  and 
imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  ruby  lips. 

"  I  cannot  tell  my  Lilian  every  thing," 
I  at  length  made  answer.  "  Suflice,  that  I 
have  important  reasons  for  going;  and 
sometime,  God  willing,  you  shall  know 
all.  My  resolution  to  leave  was  formed 
to-day,  and  to-day  we  must  part." 

"To-day!"  she  gasped,  and  I  fek  her 
whole  form  quiver  like  a  reed  shaken  by 
the  wind.  "O,  no!  not  to-day,  Francis! 
that  would  be  too  much — toa  sudden! 
You  must  not  go  to-day!" 

"  Why  not,  dearest?  I  shall  return  one 
day  sooner  for  it,  doubtless;  and  it  will  be 
as  hard  to  part  to-morrow  as  to-day." 

"But  it  is  so  sudden — so  unexpected," 
she  pleaded.  "  Delay  till  to-morrow,  Fran- 
cis!" 

"  Well,  any  thing  to  please  you;"  and  I 
stamped  the  promise  with  the  seal  of  love. 
"  Be  cheerful  as  you  can  in  my  absence, 
Lilian,  and  when  I  return  with  your  bro- 
ther  " 

.  "  O,  then  you  are  going  to  find  him!" 
she  exclaimed,  interrupting  me.  "  That 
return  will  be  joyful  indeed!  Poor  Charles! 
If  you  do  not  meet  him  on  the  way,  most 
likely  you  will  in  Boston.  Cheer  him  all 
you  can,  Francis,  and  tell  him  we  are  as 
happy  as  circumstances  will  allow  us  to 
be." 

"  Beg  pardon,  your  honor,"  said  the  voice 
of  Teddy  at  this  moment,  startling  Lilian, 
like  a  frightened  roe, from  my  arms.  "  Beg 
pardon  for  interrupting  yees — but  the  baast 
yc  buyed  this  while  ago  is  not  inywhere 
to  me  knowing." 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


19 


"  Never  mind,  TedJy — go  and  hunt  it. 
It  must  be  about,  unless  the  Indians  have 
stolen  It,  in  which  case  I  must  get  an- 
other. Hunt. for  it — I  shall  not  leave  to- 
day." 

"  Troth,  thin,  I'll  'av  another  parthing 
raesilf,  jist,"  returned  Teddy,  as  he  disap- 
peared with  a  pleased  look. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Huntly,  hearing 
another  voice,  reappeared,  and  my  tete-a- 
tete  with  Lilian  was  for  the  present  broken 
off.  The  former  had  a  great  many  ques- 
tions to  ask  rue — why  I  had  decided  leav- 
ing so  suddenly — when  I  expected  to  reach 
Boston,  and  the  like — so  that  I  had  no  lit- 
tle difficulty  in  replying  in  a  way  not  to 
commit  myself.  Then  she  had  letters  to 
write  to  her  friends,  and  Lilian  had  letters 
to  prepare  also,  and  the  news  of  my  de- 
parture having  circulated  quickly  through 
the  village,  numbers  called  to  see  me,  to 
send  messages  and  letters  to  their  native 
land — so  that  with  listening  to  their  re- 
quests, to  an  extra  amount  of  advice  as  to 
the  proper  mode  of  conducting  myself  un- 
der all  circumstances,  and  attending  to  my 
own  affairs,  I  was  kept  busy  all  day,  with- 
out the  opportunity  of  another  private  in- 
terview with  Lilian. 

A  fine  horse,  which  Ihad  purchased  a 
few  days  before  of  an  Tndiap,  was  lost — 
the  owner  I  suppose,  or  some  of  his  friends, 
thinking  it  best  to  recover  the  animal  with- 
out troubling  me  in  the  matter  at  all. — r. 
Consequently,  another  beast  was  to  be 
procured;  and  as  this  was  for  Teddy,  Fal- 
lowed him  to  make  his  own  selection — the 
one  I  had  ridden  hither  still  being  in  my 
possession. 

At  last,  every  thing  being  prepared,  I 
retired  to  my  couch,  heartily  fatigued  with 
my  day's  work.  But  thought  was  too  busy 
to  allow  me  much  sleep;  and  I  question  if 
at  least  o?ie  other  did  not  pass  a  restless 
night  from  the  same  cause;  for  on  appear- 
in  the  morning,  I  noticed  the  features  of 
Lilian  were  very  pale,  and  her  eyes  red  as 
if  from  recent  weeping.  But  she  seemed 
firm,  ready  to  endure  the  separation,  and 
uttered  not  a  single  word  of  complaint.  I 
could  have  loved  her  for  this,  if  for  nothing 
else — her  conduct  was  so  womanly  and  sen- 
sible.    She  did  not  feel  the  less,  that  she 


did  not  show  it  more,  I  knew.  She  was 
about  to  part  with  one  she  had  loved  frpm 
childhood — one  to  whom  her  heart  and 
hand  were  given — an'd  this  in  a  strange, 
wild  country,  for  a  long  separation,  full  of 
peril  to  both,  with  no  certainty  of  ever 
seeing  him  again.  It  could  not  but  be 
painful  to  her  in  any  situation— doubly  so 
in  the  one  she  was  placed — and  I  fancy  I 
appreciated  her  noble  firmnesfe  as  it  de- 
served. 

The  countenances  of  Mrs.  Huntly,  Ma- 
dame Mortimer^  Eva,  and  many  others,  all 
were  grave;  and  I  read  in  their  looks,  un- 
feigned sorrow  at  my  close-coming  depar- 
ture. The  morning  meal  was  partaken  in 
silence,  as  all  were  too  sad  and  full  of  deep 
thought  for  unnecessary  conversation.—.- 
Ere  it  was  finished,  my  friends  had  all  col- 
lected to  bid  me  farewell  and  God  speed; 
and  the  announcement  by  Teddy  that  the 
horses  were  ready,  was  the  signal  for  me 
to  begin  the  parting  scene.  Commencing 
with 'those  I  cared  least  about,  I  shook 
each  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  passed  from 
one  to  the  other  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

"  Francis  Leighton,"  said  Madame  Mor- 
timer, when  I  came  to  her,  and  her  hand 
pressed  mine  warmly,  and  her  voice  trem- 
bled as  she  spoke,  "  remember  that  to  you 
and  your  friend  my  daughter  owes  her  life, 
and  I  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  may  never 
be  cancelled.  If  my  prayers  for  your  safe 
and  happy  return  be  of  any  avail,  you  have 
them.  God  bless  you,  sir!  and  remember,, 
that  \vha,tever  may  happen  in  this  chang- 
ing world,  in  me,  while  living,  you  have  a 
warm  friend;  and  (approaching  and  whis- 
pering in  my  ear)  so  has  Lilian  and  her 
mother.  While  I  have  aught,  they  shall 
never  want.  Farewell,  my  friend!  fare- 
well— but  I  hope, only  for  a  time." 

It  may  not  Surprise  the  reader,  if  I  say 
the  pressure  of  my  fingers  was  none  the 
less  for  this  information,  nor  my  heart  any 
heavier,  unlesp  it  was  by  the  additional 
weight  of  tears  of  joy. 

Madame  Mortimer  stepped  aside,  and  I 
turned  to  Eva.  There  was  no  merri^ 
nient  m  her  look — nothing  light  upon  her 
tongue. 

"  You  have  heard  the  words  of  mother,*'- 
she  said,  impressively.     "  Tliey  are  not: 


20 


LENI-LEOTI: 


meaningless.  To  you  and  your  friend  1 1  shyness — no  trembling — no  apparent  ex- 
am indebted  for  my  life.  My  conversation 
at  times  may  have  seemed  light  and  tri- 
fling; but  notwithstanding,  Francis,  I  would 
have  you  believe,  there  is  a  heart  beneath 
all  that  does  not  overlook  the  merits  of  its 
friends,  nor  feel  lightly  for  their  welfare. 
When  you  see  your  friend,  tell  him  that 
he  is  prayed  for  daily,  by  one  who,  though 
she  never  saw,  can  never  cease  to  remem- 
ber him.  Adieu!  and  may  God  bear  you 
safely  through  all  peril!"  and  she  turned 
away,  as  if  to  hide  a  tear. 

"  Francis,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  striving 
to  command  her  voice,  which  trembled  not 
a  little,  as  she  held  both  my  hands  in  hers: 
"  Francis,  it  is  hard — very,  very  hard — to 
part  with  you.  But  I  suppose  I  must,  and 
hope  it  is  all  for  the  best.     I  have  had  so 


citement.  She  seemed,  as  her  heaven- 
ly blue  eyes  fixed  upon  mine,  rather  a 
beautiful  figure,  cut  from  the  purest  mar- 
ble, cold  and  motionless,  than  a  living, 
breathing,  human  being.  But  oh!  what 
thoughts,  what  agonies,  were  rending  that 
soul  within,  mastered  only  by  a  most  pow- 
erful will!  With  a  step  none  of  the  firm- 
est, I  approached  and  took  a  seat  by  her 
side,  and  laid  my  hand  upon  hers. 

"  Lilian,"  I  said,  in  a  scarcely  articulate 
voice:  "Lilian,  the  time  has  come  to — to 
— part." 

She  did  not  reply  in  words — she  could 
not;  but  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  ivory 
arms  encircled  my  neck,  and  her  feelings 
found  vent  in  tears  upon  my  heaving  breast. 

Smile  if  you  will,  reader — you  who  have 


much  trouble  within  a  few  years — have  [  passed  the  romantic  bounds  of  a  first  pure 
seen  so  many  of  those  I  once  supposed  land  holy  passion,  and  become  identified 
my  friends  forsake  me — that  it  really  be-  with  the  cares  and  dross  of  a  money-get- 
comes  grievous  to  part  with  any  of  the :  ting,  matter-of-fact,  dollar-and-cent-life — 
few  I  have  tried  and  not  found  wanting.  |  smile  if  you  will,  as  your  eye  chances  up- 
But  go,  Francis,  and  God  protect  you! —    on  this  simple  passage,  and  curl  your  lip 


Should  you  be  fortunate  enough  to  meet 
with  dear  Charles  (here  her  voice  faltered 
to  a  pause,  and  she  was  forced  to  dash 
away  the  tears  dimming  her  eyes,) — tell — 
tell  him  all.  Break  the  matter  gently,  if 
he  does  not  already  know  it — and' — and 
comfort  him  the  best  way  you  can.  My 
love,  my  deepest,  undying  lovej  to  your  pa- 
rents and  all  my  friends.  There — there — 
I  can  say  no  more — no  more.  Go,  Fran- 
cis, and  God's  blessing  and  mine  attend 
you!  Good-by!  farewell!"  and  shaking 
my  hands  warmly,  with  her  head  averted, 
she  dropped  them  and  disappeared  into  an- 
other apartment,  seemingly  too  much  af- 
fected to  tarry  longer  iti  my  presence. 

With  a  proper  delicacy,  for  which  I 
gave  them  ample  credit,  ope  after  another 
departed,  until  I  was  left  alone  with  Lilian. 
While  these  several  partings  were  taking 
place,  she  had  remained  seated,  watchin"- 


in  proud  disdain  of  what  you  now  consider 
foolish  days  of  love-sick  sentimentality; 
but  remember,  withal,  that  in  your  long 
career  of  painful  experience,  you  can  refer 
to  no  period  when  you  felt  more  happiness  . 
more  unadulterated  joy,  than  that  when 
the  being  of  your  first  ambition  and  love 
lay  trustingly  in  your  arms.  It  is  a  point 
in  the  life  of  each  and  all,  who  have  ex- 
perienced it,  (and  to  none  other  are  these 
words  addressed)  which  can  never  be 
erased  from  the  tablet  of  memory;  and 
though  in  after  years  we  may  alTect  to  de- 
ride it  as  silly  and  sentimental,  it  will 
come  upon  us  in  our  reflective  moments, 
like  a  warm  sunshine  suddenly  bursting 
upon  a  late  cold  and  gloomy  landscape; 
and  insensibly,  as  it  were,  our  spirits  will 
be  borne  away,  to  live  over  again,  though 
briefly,  the  happiest  moments  of  our  ex- 


istence. The  man  who  has  passed  the 
the  whole  proceedings,  with  what  feelings  I  prime  and  vigor  of  manhood  without  ever 
I  leave  lovers  to  judge.     I  now  turned  to    havinjr  felt  this — without  this  to  look  back 


her,  and  felt  th6  grand  trial  was  at  hand, 
and  my  heart  seemed  in  my  very  throat. 
Her  sweet  countenance  was  pale  and 
death-like,  her  very  lips  were  white,  and 


to — I  pity;  for  he  has  missed  the  purest 
enjoyment  offered  to  mortal;  and  his  whole 
path  of  life  must  have  been  through  a  ste- 
rile desert,  without  one  green  blade  or 


her  eyes  full  of   tears.      There  was  no  flower  to  relieve  ita  barren  aspect. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


21 


For  some  moments  the  heart  of  Lilian 
beat  rapidly  against  mine,  and  her  tears 
flowed  hot  and  fast.  I  did  not  attempt  to 
restrain  the  latter,  for  I  knew  they  would 
bring  relief  to  an  overcharged  soul,  and  I 
rejoiced  that  she  could  weep.  At  length 
they  ceased,  and  Lilian  spoke. 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  longer,  dear 
Francis.  Between  you  and  I,  who  know 
each  other  so  well,  words  are  idle  and  un- 
meaning— or  at  least  unexpressive  of  our 
feelings.  Avoid  danger  for  your  own  sake, 
and  for  the  sake  of  her  who  loves  you; 
and  do  not  forget  that  she  will  count  the 
(lays,  the  hours,  ay,  the  minutes  of  your 
absence." 

"  I  will  not,  dearest  Lilian,"  I  exclaim- 
ed, straining  her  to  my  breast,  and  press- 
ing my  lips  again  and  again  to  hers.  "  I 
will  not  forget  what  you  have  told  me.  I 
will  not  forget  there  lives  an  angel  to  make 
happy  my  return,  and  God  send  my  return 
may  make  her  happy  also!  Adieu,  dear- 
est— take  heart — do  not  despond — and 
Heaven  grant  our  meeting  may  be  soon! 
There,  God  bless  you!  and  holy  angels 
guard  you!"  and  taking  a  farewell  salute, 
I  gently  seated  her  as  before,  and  rushed 
from  the  cottage. 

Two  fiery  horses  stood  saddled  and  bri- 
dled at  the  door,  pawing  the  earth  impa- 
tiently. Every  thing  was  ready  for  a  start; 
and  snatching  the  bridle  of  one  from  the 
hand  of  Teddy,  I  vaulted  into  the  saddle. 
The  next  moment  I  was  dashing  away 
through  the  forest  at  a  dangerous  speed, 
but  one  that  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with 
my  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  RECKLESS  RIDE — LUDICROUS  APPEARANCE 
OF  TEDDY  —  KILL  A  BUCK  —  INDIANS  — 
FRIENDLY  SIGNS — CLOSE  QUARTERS — A 
TALK — GIVE  THEM  TOBACCO — TREACHERY 

DEATH  OF  THE  TRAITOR — PURSUE   OUR 

COURSE. 

With  the  mind  completely  engrossed, 
the  body  often  acts  mechanically,  or  by 
instinct,  and  performs,  without  our  know- 
ledge at  the  time,  exactly  what  reason 


would  have  dictated;  and  when  some  tri- 
fling circumstance  recalls  us  to  ourself,we 
arouse  as  from  a  dream,  and  are  surprised 
at  what  has  been  accomplished  during  our 
brief  alienation. 

So  was  it  with  myself  in  the  present 
instance.  On,  on  I  sped,  as  if  riding  for 
life,  my  hand  firmly  upon  the  rein,  guiding 
unerringly  my  high-mettled  beast,  and  yet 
unconscious  of  any  thing  external,  with 
thoughts  wild  and  painful  rushing  through 
my  brain.  How  long  or  far  I  had  ridden 
thus,  I  do  not  exactly  know — though  miles 
now  lay  between  me  and  Oregon  City — 
nor  how  much  longer  I  should  have  con- 
tinued at  the  same  break-neck  speed,  had 
my  horse  not  stumbled  and  thus  broken 
the  monotony  of  a  steady  ride,  by  unseat- 
ing and  nearly  throwing  me  over  his 
head. 

Recovering  my  position,  and  reining  ray 
steed  to  a  halt,  I  found  him  covered  with 
foam,  and  very  much  blown  from  his  late 
run;  and  that  I  was  upon  a  narrow  upland 
prairie,  which  stretched  away  before  me 
for  several  miles,  fringed  on  either  hand, 
at  no  great  distance,  with  a  beautiful 
wood. 

"  Where  am  I]"  was  ray  first  involun- 
tary exclamation — "  how  did  I  get  here,, 
with  a  whole  neck]  and  where  is  Teddyl" 

The  last  question  found  a  more  ready 
answer  than  either  of  the  preceding,  in  a 
shout  from  the  veritable  Teddy  O'Lagher- 
ty  him.self.  I  looked  behind  and  beheld 
iiim  coming,  as  if  on  a  race  with  death  for 
the  last  half  hour  of  his  existence.  His 
appearance  was  not  a  little  ludicrous.  His 
body  was  bent  forward  at  an  angle  of  for- 
ty-five degrees,  so  as  to  allow  him  to  grasp 
the  mane  of  the  beast — his  only  hope — 
his  feet  having  slipped  from  the  stirrups, 
which  were  dangling  against  the  animal's 
flanks,  and  serving  the  purpose  of  spurs — • 
while  his  hat,  for  security  being  held  in  his 
teeth,  smothered  the  shouts  he  was  making 
to  attract  my  attention.  Add  to  this,  that 
the  horse  had  no  guide  but  his  own  will — 
that  at  every  spring  Teddy  bounced  from 
the  saddle,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  his 
neck,  and  greatly  to  the  aid  of  his  diges- 
tive organs — and  an  idea  of  the  discomfi- 
ture of  the  poor  fellow  may  be  formed,  as 


22 


LENI-LEOTI: 


his  horse  dashed  up  along  side  of  mine, 
and  came  to  a  dead  halt. 

It  is  said  there  is  but  one  short  step 
from  tlie  sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  and  I 
certainly  felt  the  force  of  the  proverb  on 
the  present  occasion.  I  had  been  half 
mad  with  distracting  thoughts;  but  every 
thing  was  now  forgotten,  and  I  burst  forth 
in  a  roar  of  laughter,  such  as  1  am  certain 
jiad  never  startled  those  solitudes  before. 
'•'Be  howly  jabers!"  cried  Teddy,  re- 
gaining an  upright  position,  v;ith  a  face 
the  hue  of  a  boiled  lobster,  "  is  ye  mad 
now,  ye  divil — beg  pardon! — your  honor  I 
maan.  Howly  jabers!  what  a  ride!  Och! 
I'm  done  for — claan  murthcred  iutirely — 
all  pumice  from  me  toes  upwards,  barring 
me  body  and  head-piece,  jist." 

"  Why,  Teddy,"  returned  I,  as  soon  as 
I  could  get  calm  enough  to  command  my 
voice,  "what  new  feature  of  horseman- 
ship is  this  you  have  adopted]  I  am  sure 
you  would  make  your  fortune  in  any  cir- 
cus, with  such  a  heroic  display  of  your 
animal  capacities," 

Ah!  ye  may  laugh  and  be  d —  plased  to 
yees;  but  it's  me  mother's  own  son  as  feels 
more  as  crying,  so  it  is.  Fortune,  is  it, 
ye  mintioned?  Be  howly  St.  Pathrick's 
birth-day  in  the  morning!  it's  not  mesilf 
that  'ud  do  the  likes  agin  for  twinty  on 
'em.  Och!  I'm  killed  intirely — all  barring 
the  braathing,  as  lingers  still." 

"  Welly  well,  Teddy,  I  trust  you  will  not 
have  to  repeat  it,"  pursued  I,  laughing. — 
"  But  come— where  do  you  think  we  are .'" 
"  Think,  is  it?  Ye  ask  me  to  think'!— 
Sure,  divil  of  a  think  I  'av  in  me  now.  I 
lift  it  all  on  the  road,  that  was  no  road  at 
all,  but  the  worst  travelled  counthry  I  iver 
put  eyes  on.  We  may  be  among  the  Hin- 
doo haathen,  for  all  me  knows  conthra- 
wise;  for  not  a  blissed  thing  did  I  sac  on 
the  journey,  but  r-rocks,  traas  and  stumps, 
and  the  divil  knows  what  all,  and  thim  a 
going  so  fast  I's  couldn't  git  time  to  say 
good-by  to  'em." 

To  the  best  of  my  judgment,  we  had 
come  about  five  miles,  in  a  direction  due 
east.  Far  in  the  distance  before  me,  I 
now  beheld  the  lofty,  snow-crowned  peak 
of  Mount  Hood;  and  toward  this,  without 
farther  delay,  we  bent  our  steps,  at  a  pace 


strongly  contrasting  the  speed  which  had 
had  borne  us  hither. 

'•'  Why  did  you  not  call  to  me,  when  you 
saw  me  riding  at  a  rate  so  fearful?"  I  in- 
quired, as  I  rode  along  at  a  brisk  trot. 

"Call,  is  it?"  replied  Teddy.  "Faith! 
jist  ax  me  lungs  if  I  didn't  call,  till  me 
breath  quit  coming  for  the  strain  upon 
'em." 

"  And  so  you  could  not  make  me  hear 
eh?" 

"Make  the  dead  hear!  Och!  I  might 
as  well  'av  called  to  a  grave-yard,  barring 
the  looks  of  the  thing.  Was  ye  mad, 
your  honor?" 

"  O  no,  Teddy;  only  a  little  excited  at 
parting  with  my  friends." 

"Ah!  tnim  same  parthings  is  mighty 
har-r-rd,  now,  so  they  is,"  rejoined  Teddy, 
with  a  sighs 

"  So  you  can  speak  from  experience, 
eh?" 

"Be  me  troth  can  I.  now;  and  so  can 
Molly  Stubbs — the  swaat  crathur  that  she 
is." 
"  Did  it  break  her  heart,  Teddy?" 
"It's  not  asy  for  me  to  say,  your  honor; 
but  it  broke  her  gridiron,  and  the  ounly 
one  she  had  at  that,  poor  dear!" 

"Her  gridiron!"  I  exclaimed,  struggling 
to  repress  my  risible  faculties,  and  keep  a 
grave  face — for  I  saw  Teddy  was  in  sober 
earnest,  and  apparently  totally  unaware 
there  was  any  thing  ludicrous  in  his  re- 
mark. "  How  did  it  aflect  the  gridiron, 
Teddy?" 

"  Why,  ye  sae  now,  she  was  jist  holding 
it  betwaan  her  two  fingers,  and  fixing  for 
a  fry  maybe,  whin  up  I  come?,  and  tapping 
her  under  the  chin,  by  raason  of  our  ould 
acquaintance,  I  sez: 

" '  It's  a  blissed  day  I  saw  ye'  first,  me 
darling.' 

" '  That  it  was,  Misther  0'Lagherty,'sez 
she. 

"'I  wish  that  first  maating  could  last 
for  iver,'  sez  I. 

"  '  And  so  do  I,'  sez  she. 

"  'But  it  won't,'  sez  I;  and  thin  I  sigh- 
ed, and  she  axed  me  what  was  the  mather. 

"'Oh!  worra!  worra!'  I  sez; "  it's  about 
to  part  we  is,  Molly,  dear.' 

"  '  Ye  don't  say  the  likes!'  sez  she;  and 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


23 


tliin  down  come  the  gridiron,  as  if  the 
Ould  Scratch  was  a  riding  it,  smash  upon 
the  stone  harth,  and  into  my  arms  pitched 
Molly,  wid  a  flood  of  tears  that  made  me 
look  wathery  for  a  long  occasion. 

"  Now  it's  not  what  we  did  aftherwards, 
I'm  going  to  till  at  all,  at  all;  but  whin 
we  both  come  sensible,  our  eyes  besaw 
the  gridiron  all  broke,  and  not  wort  a  ha'- 
pence. Molly  cried,  she  did,  and  I  gin 
her  a  month's  wages  to  ase  her  conscience. 
Musha,  now,  but  parthings  is  har-r-rd,  they 
is." 

In  this  and  like  manner  I  managed  to 
relieve  my  mind  of  many  gloomy  thoughts, 
which  otherwise  must  have  depressed  it. 
I  had  parted  the  second  time  with  Lilian, 
for  a  journey  equally  as  full  of  peril  as  the 
first,  and,  if  any  thing,  of  a  more  indefi- 
nite character.  I  was  going  in  search  of 
my  lost  friend,  it  is  true;  but  what  little 
chance  had  I,  I  thought,  when  I  came  to 
look  at  it  soberly,  of  finding  him,  even  if 
alive.  I  might  travel  thousands  on  thou- 
sands of  miles — be  months,  even  years,  on 
the  search — and  yet  be  no  nearer  reveal- 
ing his  locality  than  when  I  set  out.  If 
living,  it  was  a  mere  chance  we  should 
ever  meet  again;  and  nothing,  perhaps, 
but  a  kind  Providence  could  bring  us  to- 
gether. As  may  be  inferred,  when  I  quit- 
ted my  friends  in  Oregon  City,  I  had  no 
definite  plan  arranged;  and  now  that  I  was 
really  on  the  journey,  the  question  natur- 
ally arose  as  to  what  I  should  do,  how  first 
to  proceed,  and  where  to  begin.  I  had  re- 
solved on  engaging  assistance — but  where 
was  this  to  be  found?  For  some  tims  I 
puzzled  my  own  brain  with  the  matter,  and 
then  referred  it  to  Teddy. 

Though  brought  up  in  an  hwmble  sphere 
of  life,  with  very  little  education,  Teddy 
was  nevertheless  a  keen,shrev,'d  observer, 
and  of  excellent  judgment  in  matters  com- 
ing wnthin  the  range  of  his  intellect  and 
experience;  and  accordingly!  relied  much 
upon  his  advice. 

Having  heard  the  case  fully  stated,  with 
the  dignified  gravity  of  a  judge,  and  asked 
several  pertinent  questions,  he  replied,  that 
eur  best  course,  in  his  humble  opinion,  was 
to  continue  our  present  route  as  far  as 
Fort  Hall,  where  we  would  be  likely  to 


augment  our  number  to  our  satisfaction, 
and  could  then  proceed  in  a  southerly  di- 
rection and  beguided  by  succeeding  events. 

As  this  tallied  exactly  with  my  own 
views,  the  plan  was  quickly  adopted,  and 
I  rode  forward  with  great  mental  relief, 
that  I  now  had  a  fixed  purpose,  whether 
right  or  wrong. 

For  several  miles  our  course  lay  over 
the  upland  prairie  I  have  mentioned,  and 
then  the  ground  changed  and  became  more 
rolling,  which  in  turn  gave  place  to  hills, 
sometimes  sparsely  and  sometimes  densely 
wooded,  interspersed  with  rocks,  gullies, 
and  deep  ravines,  that  greatly  impeded  our 
progress.  We  halted  to  noon  in  a  little 
valley,  through  which,  with  a  roaring  sound 
over  its  rocky  bed,  dashed  a  bright  stream 
of  pure  water,  on  whose  banks  grew  rich, 
green  grass,  of  such  luxuriance  as  to  sat' 
isfy  the  appetites  of  our  animals  in  a  very 
short  time. 

While  partaking  of  some  plain  food 
of  which  we  had  a  small  store,  we  amused 
ourselves  by  overhauling  our  rifles,  exam- 
ining their  primfng,  as  well  as  our  other 
weapons  and  ammunition,  and  seeing  that 
every  thing  was  in  proper  condition  to  meet 
danger.  Scarcely  was  this  over,  when  in 
a  whisper  Teddy  called  my  attention  to  a 
fine,  fat  buck,  which  was  trotting  along 
within  rifle  shot.  Quick  as  thought,  I 
drew  up  my  piece  and  fired.  The  animal 
instantly  bounded  forward  a  short  distance, 
reeled,  and  fell  over  upon  its  side. 

The  next  moment  we  were  on  our  way 
to  examine  the  carcass,  and  take  from  it 
the  most  suitable  portions  for  our  wants. 
We  had  scarcely  proceeded  twenty  paces, 
when  Teddy,  grasping  my  arm, exclaimed: 

"  Injins,  be  jabers!" 

And  sure  enough,  just  issuing  from  a 
clump  of  bushes  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  valley,  distant  less  than  two  hundred 
yards,  were  six  half-naked  savages,  armed. 
two  of  them  with  rifles  or  muskets,  and 
the  others  with  bows  and  arrows.  As  it 
wa-s  impossible  to  divine  their  intentions, 
only  by  their  acts,  and  as  they  made 
straight  towards  us,  I  snatched  Teddy's  ri- 
fle from  his  hands,  and  ordering  him  to  load 
mine  as  quick  as  possible,  raised  it  to  my 
shoulder,  determined,  should  they  prove 


24 


LENI-LEOTI: 


hostile,  to  sell  my  life  dearly,  and  die,  if  I 
must,  with  the  satisfaction  of  having  done 
my  duty  in  self-defence. 

Perceiving  my  movement,  they  came  to 
a  halt,  and  made  me  friendly  signs,  by  ex- 
tending their  open  hands  and  then  placing 
them  on  their  hearts.  Dropping  the  muz- 
zle of  my  rifle,  I  did  the  same,  and  then 
waited  for  them  to  come  up,  though,  it 
must  be  confessed,  with  not  the  most  faith 
imaginable  in  their  amicable  professions. 
However,  I  kept  well  on  my  guard,  and  by 
the  time  they  had  shortened  the  first  men- 
tioned distance  between  us  by  a  hundred 
paces,  Teddy  coolly  announced  that  two 
bullets  were  at  their  service,  at  any  mo- 
ment they  might  choose. 

Ere  they  joined  us,  I  had  made  them  out 
by  their  costume  and  paint,  to  belong  to 
the  Chinnook  tribe,  whose  grounds  lie 
due  north  of  Oregon  city,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Columbia  river.  I  had  frequent- 
ly seen  more  or  less  of  them  in  the  village; 
and  had,  in  fact,  purchased  the  horse,  men- 
tioned as  being  stolen,  from  one  of  their 
tribe;  so  that  I  now  feared  less  a  design 
upon  my  life  than  upon  my  property. 

The  party  in  question  were  all  inferior 
beings,  both  in  size  and  appearance;  but 
one  seemed  superior  to  the  others,  and  pos- 
sessed of  command.  He  approached  me 
in  advance  of  his  companions,  and  held 
out  his  hand,  which  I  accepted  and  shook 
in  a  friendly  manner.  He  next  proceeded 
to  Teddy,  and  each  in  turn  followed  his 
example.  When  all  had  done,  the  chief 
addressed  me  in  broken  English: 

"  Where  you  come?" 

"  The  village,  yonder,"  I  replied,  point- 
ing with  my  finger  toward  Oregon  City. 

"Where  gol" 

"Away  beyond  the  mountains;"  and  I 
pointed  eastward. 

"  Good  rauskee  (musket)  got?" 

f  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Good  boss  got]" 

I  nodded  again. 

"Good  present  got,  eh"?  poor  Injin,ehl" 

"  I  have  nothing  but  some  tobacco  I  can 
spare,"  I  answered,  of  which  I  still  had  a 
pretty  good  supply. 

'■  Ugh!  bacco  good,"  rejoined  the  chief, 
with  a  smile. 


This  was  in  my  sack  on  my  horse,  and 
I  was  not  sorry  of  an  excuse  to  get  to  him 
without  showing  myself  suspicious  of  my 
new  acquaintances;  for  I  had  noticed 
many  a  wistful  glance  cast  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  I  feared  lest,  presuming  on  our 
weakness,  they  might  think  proper  to  take 
our  animals  by  a  coup  de  main,  and  leave 
us  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Accordingly,  I 
informed  the  savage  where  the  article  was, 
and  that  I  must  go  alone  and  get  it." 

"  Why  me  no  go"!"  he  asked. 

"Then  your  followers  must  stay  be- 
hind." 

"  Why  dey  no  go]"  he  inquired,  a  little 
angrily  as  I  thought. 

"  Because  I  shall  not  permit  it,"  I  re- 
plied, decisively. 

"Ugh!  we  so — you  so,"  he  rejoined, 
holding  up  first  six  and  then  two  fingers, 
to  indicate  the  numbers  of  e£.ch  party. — 
"  We  strong — you  weak.  We  go,  eh]" 
and  he  made  a  step  forward. 

In  an  instant  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle  was 
pointed  at  his  breast,  and  my  finger  on  the 
trigger,  a  movement  imitated  by  Teddy, 
who  quickly  covered  another. 

"Another  step,  chief,"  I  said,  "  and  you 
are  a  dead  man." 

"Back,  ye  divils — ye  dirthy  blaggards! 
d'ye  hear  the  gintleman  spaking  to  yees 
now]"  shouted  Teddy. 

This  peremptory  decision  had  a  saluta- 
ry effect  upon  the  white-livered  knaves, 
who  instantly  shrank  cowering  back,  the 
chief  at  once  exclaiming,  in  a  deprecating 
tone: 

"  No  shoot.     We  no  go.     You  go." 

Fearing  treachery,  we  instantly  started 
for  our  horses,  keeping  our  faces  to  our 
foes,  and  our  rifles  levelled,  prepared  for 
the  worst.  Having  secured  a  few  plugs 
of  the  desired  article,  we  both  mounted 
and  returned  to  the  savages,  among  whom 
I  made  an  immediate  distribution.  The 
chief  thanked  me,  and  said  they  would 
now  go  home.  Accordingly,  the  whole 
party  set  off  in  one  direction,  and  we  in 
another,  rifles  in  hand.  We  had  scarcely 
gone  twenty  paces,  when  crack  went  a 
musket  behind  us,  and  a  ball  whizzed  over 
my  head. 

"The    treacherous    scoundrels!"  I  ex- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


25 


claimed;  and  wheeling  my  horse  as  I 
spoke,  I  beheld  the  whole  six  running  and 
dodging  for  their  lives.  Singling  out  the 
villain  that  had  fired  at  us,  I  drew  up  my 
rifle  and  pulled  trigger.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  lay  howling  in  the  dust,  deserted 
by  his  cowardly  friends,  whose  speed 
seemed  greatly  accelerated  by  this  event. 

Teddy  would  have  gone  back  for  his 
scalp,  but  this  I  would  not  permit,  both 
on  account  of  its  barbarity,  and  that  by 
delay  we  might  encounter  another  party. 
Setting  spurs  to  our  horses,  therefore,  we 
dashed  rapidly  away,  leaving  our  game 
and  foes  behind  us,  and  congratulating 
ourselves  upon  our  providential  escape. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  our  progress  was 
by  no  means  slow,  though  the  travelling  at 
times  most  execrable.  The  sun  was  al- 
ready throwing  a  long  shade  to  the  east- 
ward, when,  ascending  a  rough,  stony 
ridge,  which  we  had  been  forced  to  do  cir- 
cuitously,  we  beheld  below  us  a  beautiful 
plain  of  miles  in  length  and  breadth,  along 
the  eastern  portion  of  which  towered  the 
lofty  Cascade  mountains,  with  the  ever- 
lasting snow-crowned  Mount  Hood  rising 
grandly  above  all,  till  lost  beyond  the 
clouds,  glittering  like  apinacle  of  burnish- 
ed silver  in  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun. 
It  was  a  sublime  and  beautiful  scene  for 
the  painter  and  poet;  and  for  many  min- 
utes I  paused  and  gazed  upon  it  with  feel- 
ings of  reverence  and  awe  for  the  great 
Author  of  a  work  so  stupendous.  A  simi- 
lar feeling  must  have  possessed  Teddy, 
for  he  instantly  crossed  himself  and  re- 
peated the  pater-noster. 

Descending  to  the  base  of  the  hill,  we 
found  a  suitable  place  and  encamped. — 
Though  greatly  fatigued,  I  did  not  rest 
well;  and  either  my  thoughts,  or  the  dismal 
howl  of  surrounding  wolves,  or  both,  com- 
bined with  other  circumstances,  kept  me 
awake  most  of  the  nioht. 


CHAPTER  IV.  , 

PASS  MOUNT  HOOD  AND  THE  CASCADES — 
ARRIVE  AT  FORT  WALLA-WALLA — EN- 
LIST  A   FRENCH  VOYAGEUR — FRENCH  AND 

IRISH — A      QUARREL A     CHALLENGE — A 

FIGHT — FOES  BECOME    FRIENDS. 

Early  the  following  morning  we  were 
on  our  feet,  and  having  partaken  a  slight 
repast,  we  mounted  and  set  off  towards 
Mount  Hood.  The  travelling  was  now 
good,  being  over  a  rolling  prairie,  which, 
as  we  neared  this  colossal  erection  of  na- 
ture, gradually  became  more  and  more 
level,  so  that  our  horses  being  refreshed 
and  full  of  fire,  our  speed  was  all  that  could 
be  desired  even  by  the  most  impatient.—^ 
Before  noon  we  reached  the  base  of  Mount 
Hood;  and  if  I  had  thought  it  sublime  at  ?. 
distance,  I  now  felt,  as  it  were,  its  sublim- 
ity in  an  awful  degree.  Up,  up,  up  it  rose, 
until  my  eyes  became  strained  to  trace  its 
glistening  outline  in  the  clear,  blue  ether. 
Its  base  was  surrounded  with  sand,  dead 
trees,  and  broken  rocks,  which  had  accu- 
mulated there,  perhaps,  by  the  torrents  of 
ages,  as  they  rushed  and  roared  dovv'n  its 
jagged  sides.  For  a  considerable  distance 
above  the  plain,  it  was  well  timbered;  then 
came  a  long  stretch  of  green  grass;  then  a 
long  barren  spot;  and  then  commenced  the 
snow  and  ice,  which  rose  far  beyond  the 
ordinary  height  of  clouds — the  Vk'hole  com- 
bined, forming  a  spectacle  of  which  the 
pen  can  convey  no  adequate  idea.  To  the 
right  and  left  stretched  away  the  Cascades, 
which,  stupendous  of  themselves,  seemed 
as  mole-hills  in  compare  with  Mount 
Hood.  Far  to  the  south  rose  the  lofty  peak 
of  Mount  Jefierson,  and  as  far  to  the  north, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Columbia,  that  of 
Mount  St.  Helens. 

Having  gazed  upon  the  scene  to  my  sa- 
tisfaction, I  turned  my  horse  to  the  right, 
and  began  my  ascent  up  a  valley,  formed 
by  the  partial  meeting  of  two  hills,  and 
down  the  very  bed  of  which  roared  a 
sparkling  streamlet.  The  farther  I  ascend- 
ed, the  more  wild  the  scene,  the  more  pre- 
cipitous and  dangerous  the  path.  In  fact, 
on  three  occasions  we  were  obliged  to  dis- 
mount and  lead  our  horses  lor  a  considera- 


26 


LENI-LEOTI: 


ble  distance,  and  once  our  steps  had  to  be 
retraced  for  lialf  a  mile,  in  order  to  pass 
around  a  friglitful  chasm.  Near  the  sum- 
mit of  the  ridoe  we  came  upon  a  fine 
spring  and  an  abundance  of  grass.  Here 
we  encamped  for  the  night,  during  which 
I  slept  soundly. 

T!ie  following  day  was  cold  and  stormy, 
with  sleet  and  snow.  This  may  surprise 
the  reader,  who  bears  in  mind  that  rt  was 
now  June;  but  snow-storms  on  the  moun- 
rains  are  not  regulated  altogether  by  the 
seasons,  and  are  frequently  known  to  oc- 
cur in  one  part  of  the  coutitry,  while  in  an- 
other, not  ten  miles  distant,  the  heat  may 
be  excessive.  As  all  are  aware,  the  higher 
we  ascend,  the  colder  the  atmosphere;  and 
on  many  high  mountains  in  southern 
climes,  there  may  be  all  kinds  of  temper- 
atures, from  the  torrid  to  the  frigid— from 
(he  valley  of  dates,  figs  and  oranges,  to  the 
peaks  of  never  melting  ice  and  snow — 
and  this  within  tlie  distance  of  five  or  ten 
miles. 

Ere  we  raised  our  camp  I  shot  a  moun- 
tain goat,  being  the  first  game  v^ehad  kill- 
ed since  the  buck  of  unfavorable  memory. 
Of  this  we  prepared  our  breakfast,  and  al- 
so put  a  few  choice  pieces  in  our  "  possi- 
bles," leaving  the  balance  to  the  wolves, 
which,  in  justice  to  the  appreciation  they 
showed  thereof  I  must  say,  was  nothing 
but  a  pile  of  shiny  bones  ere  we  were 
fairly  out  of  sight.  I  now  consulted  an 
excellent  map,  which  I  had  procured  from 
one  of  the  emigrants,  and  referring  to  my 
compass,  laid  my  course  a  little  north  of 
east,  so  as  to  strike  the  Dalles  of  Colum- 
bia, and  thus  the  most  travelled  route  to 
and  from  Oregon  City. 

The  day,  as  I  have  said,  being  stormy, 
and  our  route  lying  over  a  wild,  bleak 
country,  served  not  a  little  to  depress  the 
spirits  of  both  Teddy  and  myself.  Noth- 
ing of  consequence  occurred  through  the 
day  to  distract  our  thoughts  from  their 
gioomy  channel,  and  but  little  was  said  by 
either.  By  riding  hard,  we  gained  the 
Dalles  that  night,  and  encamped  on  the 
banks  of  the  Columbia.  Eager  to  arrive  at 
Fort  Hall,  we  again  pushed  ahead  on  the 
succeeding  day,  and  following  up  the  Co- 
l^jmbir,. reached  Fort  Walla-Walla,  on  the 


third  from  our  quitting  the  Dalles,  without 
any  events  worthy  of  particular  note. 

This  fortress,  constructed  on  tlie  plan 
of  Fort  Laramie,  described  in  "  Prairie 
Flower,"  I  shall  pass  without  notice,  other 
than  tiiat  it  contained  a  small  garrison  of 
resolute  and  daring  adventurers,  or  rather 
mountaineers  and  their  squaw  wives,  who 
preferred  passing  their  time  here  in  com- 
parative ease,  at  good  wages,  to  the  priva- 
tions and  perils  of  trapping  in  the  wilder- 
ness. 

Here  I  found  a  number  of  hardy  fellows, 
who  had  lately  "  come  in,"  preparing  to 
set  off  again  for  the  Blue  Mountains — 
some  to  hunt  for  game  in  the  forests,  and 
others  to  trap  in  the  streams.  Here  were 
also  several  friendly  Indians,  (friendly 
through  fear  of  the  whites.)  the  usual 
number  of  traders,  pedlers,  one  or  two 
land  speculators  and  fur  company  agents, 
and  one  French  voyageur — all  more  or  less 
engaged  in  drinking,  traflicking,  and  gam- 
bling— the  usual  routine  of  a  gathering  of 
this  kind. 

Thinking  it  possible  to  raise  a  party 
here,  f  made  a  proposition  to  several,  but 
found  all  had  prior  engagements.  I  next 
made  some  inquiries  concerning  Black 
George,  and  learned,  much  to  my  satisfac- 
tion, that  he  had  been  seen  quite  recently 
on  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  that  in  all 
probability  I  should  find  him  at  Fort  Bois, 
or  Fort  Hall,  as  he  was  then  slowly  taking 
his  way  eastward. 

"  If  you  desire  an  excellent  guide,"  said 
an  agent  to  me,  "  let  me  recommend  to 
you  Pierre  Boreaux;  who,  though  some- 
what eccentric  at  times,  you  will  find  most 
faithful  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  I 
have  tried  him,  sir,  and  know." 

"  Just  what  I  desire  exactly,"  I  replied. 

"  Come,  then,"  he  said;  and  taking  me 
aside,  he  pres'ented  me  to  the  individual  in 
question,  who  was  none  other  than  the 
Y tench,  voyageur  previously  mentioned. 

He  was  a  small,  dapper  personage,  very 
neat  in  his  appearance,  with  a  keen,  rest- 
loss  black  eye,  and  a  pkysiognomy  more 
inclined  to  merriment  than  mekncholy. 
Flis  age  was  about  forty,  though  lie  ever 
took  pains  to  appear  much  younger.  Hi!? 
jpenchant  was  for  the  wild  and  daring;  and. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


2T 


never  was  he  so  well  contented,  as  when  i  hasty  pinches  of  his  favorite,  and  closing 

engaged  in  some  perilous  enterprise.  This,  i  his  box,  said: 

taken  in  connection  with  his  jovial  turn  j      "  Von  leetle  absence,  Monsieur.     I  sail 

of  mind, may  at  first  seem  parodoxical;  but  j  'ave  von  ver  moche  pleasure;"  and  oft'  ha 

it  muat  be  remembered,  that  most  pensone  j  skipped  as  gay  as  a  lark,  to  prepare-  hlm- 

incline  less  to  their  likes  than  their  oppo- '  self  for  the  journey. 

sites;  and  that  the    humorist  is  the    man        At  daylight  on  the  succeeding  morning, 

who  seldom  smiles,  while  the  man  of  grav- :  the  Frenchman  was  at  his  post,  well  mount- 

est    sayings    may    be  literally   a   laugh-   ed  on  a  full  blooded  Indian  pony,  armed  to 


ing  philosopher.  He  was  much  addicted, 
too,  to  taking  snuff",  of  which  he  always 
managed  to  have  a  good  stock  on  hand,  so 
that  his  silver  box  and  handkerchief  were 
in  requisition  on  almost  all  occa.sions.  He 


the  teeth,  and  really  looking  quite  the  war- 
rior. Three  minutes  later  we  had  all  pass- 
ed the  gate  and  were  speeding  away. 

This  was  the  first  meeting  between  Ted- 
dy and  Pierre,  and  I  soon  became   aware 


spoke  with  great  volubility,  in  broken  I  it  was  any  thing  but  a  pleasant  one,  par- 
English,  generally  interlarded  with  French,  |  ticularly  on  the  part  of  Teddy,  who  cast 
accompanied  with  all  the  peculiar  shrugs  ;  many  a  furtive  glance  upon  the  other,  ex- 
and  gesticulations  of  his  countrymen.  He  '  pressive  of  dislike.  What  this  arose  from 
was,  in  short,  a  serio-comical,  singular  be- '  — whether  from  jealousy,  national  preju- 
ing,  of  whom  I  can  convey  no  better  idea  j  dice,  or  contempt  for  the  inferior  propor- 
than  to  let  him  speak  and  act  for  him- itions  of  Pierre — I  was  at  a  loss  to  deter- 
self.  I  mine.     Never  before  had  1  seen  animosity. 

"•Ah,  Monsieur,"  he  said  in  reply  to  my  i  to  a  fellow  traveller  so  strongly  depicted 
salutation,  taking  a  huge  pinch  of  siiulTthe  j  on  the  features  of  the  faithful  Teddy.  It 
while  and  bowing  very  politely;  "  ver  t  maybe  he  fancied  the  Frenchman  of  equal 
moche  happe  make  you  acquaintones.-— I  grade  with  himself,  and  was  jealous  of  his 
Will  you  'ave  von  tarn — vot  you  call  him — i  supplanting  him  in  my  favor,  and  this  seem- 
happenese,  eh  I — to  take  von  leetle — I  for-  ed  the  most  probable  of  the  three  suggest- 
get  him — so — (putting  his  thumb  and  ting- 1  ed  causes.  Pierre,  however,  showed  no 
er  together,  to  indicate  a  pinch,)  avecj  ill  will  to  the  Irishman,  but  merely  return- 
moi,  eh]"  ed  his  glances  with  a  supercillious  look, 

"  Thank  you,"  I  returned,  "  I  never  use  |  as  though  he  considered  him  his  inferior, 
the  article  in  that  shape."  i  But  he  could  not  long  remain  silent;  and 

"  Ver  sorre  hear  him.  Vous  remem-  j  so,  after  riding  on  briskly  for  a  short  dis- 
ber  le  grand  Empereur  Napoleone,  eh!"      ;  tance,  he  turned  to  Teddy,  and  \vith  ami-s- 

"Ay."  I  chievous  twinkle  in  his  small   black  eye, 

"  Ah!  von  plus  great  sheneral  him.     He  j  said,  with  much  suavity: 
take  snoof,  eh  J     Veil,  you  speak  now,  you'      "  Pnrlez  vous  Frangais.'" 
— vot  you  call  him — bnsinese,  eh!"  j      "  Spake  it  in  Inglish,  ye  spalpeen!  and 

"  I  wish  to  enga.-^e  you,"  I  replied,  "  to   thin  a  gintleman  can  answer  yees,"  replied 


go  on  a  jc'urney  full  of  peril,  in  the  capa- 
city of  guide." 

'•  ()u  ar.ez-vousV 

"  How!" 

"  Ah,  parJonncz-nioi!  I  say,  vere  you 
gol" 

"To  Mexico,  perhaps." 

"  Oui,  Monsieur.  I  shall  be  ver  moche 
delrght,  I  certainment  assure  you.  Ven, 
you  go,  eh!" 

"  I  leav3  here,  en  routz  for  Fort  Hall,  at, 
daylight  to-morrow." 

Hero  the  Frenchman  took  one   oi-  two 


Teddy,  reddening  with  vexation.  "  II  it's 
frog  languag''  ye's  jabbering,  sure  it's  not 
mesilf  as  wants  to  know  what  yo  says, 
now." 

'"^ue  voulez-voi'.s.  Monsieur!"  inquired 
the  Frenchman,  looking  slily  a?;  me  v/ith  a 
significant  shrug,  and  secretly  enjoying  the 
discomfiture  of  Teddy. 

'«  Quack,  quack,  quack,  kither  hoben," 
rejoined  Teddy,  fiercely.  "Sure,  now,  and 
is  it  that  ye  can  understand  yourself,  ye 
tief!  It's  maybe  smart,  now,  ye's  afther 
thiqking  yourself,  by   token  ye  can  say 


28 


LENI-LEOTI; 


things  I  don't  know  the  maaninf^  of.  And 
80  yc  is  smart,  barring  the  foolish  part, 
which  comprehinds  the  whole  of  yees. — 
Troth!  can  ye  fight,  Misther  Frogeater] 
Come,  now,  that's  Inglish;  and  by  St. 
Pathrick's  bones,  I'll  wager  ye're  too  cow- 
ardly to  understand  it." 

"Come,  come,  Teddy,"  I  said, "you  are 
getting  personal.  I  can  allow  no  quarrel- 
ing." 

"Och!  there's  no  danger,  your  honor," 
returned  Teddy,  turning  upon  Pierre  a 
withering  look  of  contempt.  "  It's  not 
inny  frog -eater  as  is  going  to  fight  his  bet- 
thers;  and  sure  it's  not  Teddy  O'Laghcrty 
as  can  fight  alone,  jist." 

Meantime  there  had  been  a  quiet,  half 
smile  resting  on  the  features  of  the  French- 
man, as  though  he  were  secretly  enjoying 
a  fine  joke.  Even  the  abusive  language 
of  the  excited  Irishman  did  not  appear  to 
disturb  his  equanimity  in  the  least.  There 
he  sat,  as  cool  and  apparently  as  indiffer- 
ent as  if  nothing  derogatory  to  his  fight- 
ing propensities  had  been  uttered,  or  at 
least  understood  by  him.  I  was  begin- 
ning, in  fact,  to  think  the  latter  was  the 
case,  or  else  that  Teddy  was  more  than 
half  right  in  calling  him  a  coward,  when 
I  became  struck  with  a  peculiar  expres- 
sion, which  suddenly  swept  over  his  bron- 
zed features,  and  was  superceded  by  the 
satne  quiet  smile — as  we  sometimes  at 
noon-day  see  a  cloud  flit  over  a  bright 
landscape,  shading  it  for  an  instant  only. 
Suddenly  Pierre  reined  his  pony  close 
along  side  of  Teddy,  and  in  a  very  bland 
voice,  as  if  begging  a  favor,  said: 

"  Monsieur,  you  say  someting  'bout  fight, 
ehl  Sare,  I  sail  'ave  le  plus  grande  de- 
light to  soot  you  with  un — vot  you  call 
him — peestole,  eh!" 

"  The  divil  yc  will,  now?"  replied  Ted- 
dy, with  a  comical  look  of  surprise.  '■  Sure, 
thin,  an'  it's  mesilf  that  'ud  like  to  be  do- 
ing the  same  by  you,  and  ye  was  wort  the 
powther  it  'ud  cost." 

"  Sare,"  returned  the  Frenchman  with 
dignity,  "  in  my  countre,ven  gentilshom- 
mes  go  for  kill,  dey  novare  count  de  cost. 
I  aoot  you — I  cut  you  troat — I  sharge  you 
noting." 
"  Well,  be  jabers!  since  ye've  got  your 


foul  tongue  into  Inglish,  and  be to 

yees!  I'll  do  the  same  for  your  dirthy  self," 
retorted  Teddy;  "for  it's  not  Teddy  O'- 
Lagherty  as  '11  be  behind  aven  a  nager  in 
liberalithies  of  that  sort,  now." 

"  You  are  both  too  liberal  of  your  valor 
by  half,"  I  rejoined,  laughing  at  what  I 
thought  would  merely  end  in  words. 

But  I  was  soon  convinced  of  my  error; 
for  scarcely  had  the  expression  left  my 
lips,  when  the  Frenchman  sprang  from 
his  pony,  and  striking  his  hand  on  his  pis- 
tols, exclaimed: 

"  Je  I'attaquerai:  I  vill  'ave  at  you.  Mon- 
sieur, ven  you  do  me  von  leetle  honoor, 
sare." 

"  It's  not  long  you'll  have  to  wait,  thin," 
cried  Teddy;  and  before  I  could  interfere 
— or  in  fact  was  fully  aware  of  what  was 
taking  place — he  had  dismounted  and 
drawn  a  pistol. 

"  Tin  paces,  ye  blaggard!"  he  cried; 
"and  may  howly  Mary  be  marciful  to 
yees!" 

"  Hold!"  I  shouted.  "  Rash  men,  %hat 
are  you  about?     I  forbid " 

Here  I  was  interrupted  by  the  reports 
of  two  pistols,  followed  by  a  stifled  cry  of 
pain  from  Pierre,  who  instantly  dropped 
his  weapon  and  placed  his  hand  to  his 
shoulder.  The  next  moment  I  was  on  my 
feet,  and  rushing  to  his  assistance,  ac- 
companied by  Teddy,  whose  features,  in- 
stead of  anger,  now  exhibited  a  look  of 
commiseration. 

'  "  Are  you  hurt,  Pierre?"  I  inquired,  as  I 
gained  his  side. 

"  Ver  leetle  scratch,"  replied  the  French- 
man, taking  away  his  hand  covered  with 
blood. 

I  instantly  tore  away  his  garments,  and 
ascertained  that  the  ball  of  Teddy  had 
passed  quite  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his 
arm  near  the  shoulder,  but  without  break- 
ing a  bone  or  severing  an  artery. 

"A  lucky  escape,  Pierre,"  I  said. 

He  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
coolly  proceeded  to  take  snuff,  with  an  in- 
difference that  surprised  me.  When  he 
had  done,  he  turned  to  Teddy  with: 

"  Vill  you  'ave  von  more — vot  you  call 
him — le  plus  grande  satisfactione,  ehl" 

"  Sure,  and  it's  mesilf  as  is  not  over  par- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


29 


thicular  inny  ways.  If  ye's  satisfied,  I'm 
contint — or  conthrawise,  as  plases  ye 
most." 

"  Veil,  then,  suppose  we  shake  hand, 
eh?"  rejoined  Pierre.  "  I  soot  you — you 
soot  me.  Ve  'ave  both  satisfactionejehl" 
and  the  next  moment  these  two  singular 
beings  were  pleasantly  engaged  in  compli- 
menting each  other  on  his  bravery. 

O,  curious  human  nature!  From  that 
moment  Pierre  Boreaux  and  Teddy  O'- 
Lagherty  were  sworn  friends  for  life — 
nor  did  I  ever  hear  an  angry  word  pass  be- 
tween them  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PASS  FORT  BaiS — THE  HOT  SPRINGS — A  CAP- 
ITAL   JOKE SUPERSTITION     OF     TEDDY 

"  THE  DIVIL's  TAE-POT" — A  NIGHT  AT- 
TACK— STRATAGEM  OF  THE  INDIANS  FOIL- 
ED BY  PIERRE FOE  PUT  TO  FLIGHT FOUR 

SCALPS A  PACK  OF  AVOLVES IN  DANGER 

OF  BEING  DEVOURED A  DISMAL  NIGHT  OF 

IT. 

Pursuing  our  course  along  the  banks  of 
the  Walla-Walla,  we  passed  Dr.  Whit- 
man's station,  and  camped  the  following 
night  in  a  romantic  deil  at  the  foot  of  a 
ridge  adjoining  the  Grand  Round.  In  the 
course  of  the  evening  we  were  visited  by 
several  Indians,  with  whom  we  held  a  small 
traffick  for  provisions.  For  fear  of  evil  con- 
sequences, we  kept  well  on  our  guard,  but 
they  displayed  no  hostile  intentions. — 
Pierre  complained  somewhat  of  his  arm, 
which  I  had  bandaged  at  the  time  as  well 
as  circumstances  would  permit.  I  advised 
him  to  consult  the  Indians,  who  are  known 
to  be  great  proficients  in  the  healing  art. 
He  did  so,  and  the  result  proved  highly 
beneficial;  so  much  so,  that  he  was  able 
to  use  it  sooner  than  I  expected. 

The  next  day  we  crossed  the  Grand 
Round,  (a  delightful  valley  of  twenty  miles 
in  extent,  watered  by  a  pleasant  stream,) 
also  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Snake  river.  The 
scenes  we  passed  over  were,  many  of 
them,  wild,  and  some  of  them  romantic  in 
the  extreme;  but  as  more  important  mat- 


ters press  me,  I  cannot  pause  to  describe 
them.  The  Indians  we  now  beheld  on 
every  side  of  us — but  they  offered  no  vio- 
lence. The  third  day  from  crossing  th» 
Grand  Round  we  reached  Fort  Bois,  where 
we  passed  the  night. 

The  next  morning  we  pursued  our  jour- 
ney, having  learned,  meantime,  that  Black 
George,  for  whom  I  made  particular  in- 
quiries, had  passed  here  a  few  days  before, 
in  company  with  two  other  trappers,  on 
his  way  to  Fort  Hall.  This  was  cheering 
news  to  me,  and  we  pushed  forward  as  fast 
as  circumstances  would  permit,  in  the  hope 
of  overtaking  him. 

About  noon  of  the  third  day  from  leav- 
ing Fort  Bois,  we  came  upon  some  half  a 
dozen  fine  looking  springs,  when  Teddy 
declared  he  must  quench  his  thirst. 

As  he  descended  from  his  horse,  the 
Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
gave  me  a  very  significant  wink. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Pierre]"  I  inquir- 
ed, fully  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  what 
seemed  to  him  a  capital  joke. 

"  Paix!  le  diable!"  he  exclaimed,  laying 
his  hand  on  my  arm  and  pointing  to  Ted- 
dy, who,  having  reached  a  spring,  was  just 
in  the  act  of  bending  down  to  the  water. 
"  Monsieur  sail  see." 

"  See]"  I  repeated. 

"  Oui,  Monsieur." 

"What  shall  I  see]" 

"Och!  liowly  murther!  be  St.  Pathrick! 
jabers!"  cried  Teddy  at  this  moment, 
springing  to  his  feet  and  running  towards 
us  with  all  his  fleetness,  holding  his  tongue 
with  one  hand,  and  pressing  the  other  upon 
his  forehead.  "Och!  murther!  I'm  dead 
intirely — bit — ate  up — claan  killed,  I  is!" 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  I  inquired,  un- 
able to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  such 
strange  actions,  while  Pierre  leaned  for- 
ward on  his  saddle  and  held  both  hands 
upon  his  ribs,  fairly  screaming  with  laugh- 
ter. 

"  Mather,  is'tl"  rejoined  Teddy.  "  Mu- 
sha!  but  it's  mather  intirely.  Me  tongue's 
burnt  out  of  me,  jist,  barring  about  sax 
inches  on't." 

"Burned,  Teddy]" 

"  Ay,  burnt  your  honor — that's  the 
wor-r-rd,   now.      Sure,  that's  the  divil's 


50 


LENI-LEOTI: 


pool,  and  bo  it  is — and  hell  must  be  here- 
abouts. Och!  but  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  lave 
the  spot  betimes;"  and  springing  into  his 
saddle  he  rode  away,  in  spite  of  my  calls  to 
the  contrary,  as  fast  as  his  beast  could 
carry  him. 

"  Wliat  is  it,  Pierre!"  I  exclaimed;  but 
■Pierre  was  too  much  convulsed  to  answer 
rae;  and  dismounting,  I  approached  the 
miraculous  M'ater  myself. 

Now  I  understood  the  joke;  and  to  do 
myself  justice,  I  must  say  I  so  far  imita- 
ted the  Frenchman,  that  I  was  unable  to 
quit  the  spot  lor  at  least  ten  minutes.  In 
his  eager  desire  for  a  cool,  refreshing 
draught,  Teddy  had  plunged  his  face  into, 
and  gulped  a  mouthful  of  boiling  water, 
from  what  are  known  as  tlie  Hot  Springs. 
Of  these  there  are  some  five  or  six,  the 
water  of  which  bubbles  up  clear  and  spark- 
ling, and,  all  meeting,  form  a  small  stream, 
which  rolls  away  with  a  pleasing  murmur. 
No  wonder  Teddy,  not  understanding  the 
phenomenon,  and  being  superstitious  too, 
should  imagine  Old  Nick  had  something 
to  do  with  it. 

"  Veil,  you  see,  eh!"  exclaimed  Pierre, 
as  I  remounted.  "  By  gar!  him  von  ver 
moche  good  joke.  He  tink  him  von  dia- 
ble,  eh!"  and  ho  ended  with  another  hear- 
ty laugh,  in  which  I  was  forced  to  join. 

About  three  miles  farther  on  we  over- 
took Teddy,  whose  running  ardor  had  cool- 
ed down  to  a  quiet  walk. 

"Ah,  faith!"  said  he,  dolefully,  "it's 
mighty  feared  I's  beginning  to  git,  that 
ye'd  not  come  at  all,  at  all." 

"  Why  so,  Teddy!" 

"  Oh,  worral  wprra!  that  I  should  iver 
live  to  taste  tlie  divil's  pool!  And  did 
ye  sae  him,  body  and  bones,  your  honor! 
— and  how  did  he  look,  if  it's  all  the  same 
to  yees,  and  he  no  forbid  your  tilling  raa- 
sonably!" 

"  Why,  Teddy,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
alarmed  at;"  and  I  proceeded  to  explain 
the  mystery.  "  It  is  a  very  natural  phe- 
nomenon, I  assure  you." 

"  Natli'ral,  is  it!  Och!  thin  I  have  it, 
'pon  me  sowll" 

"  Have  what!" 

"  Why  sure,  your  honor,  I  sae  claan 
throuo-h  it." 


"  Well,  what  do  you  sec,  Teddy?" 

"  Musha!  but  it's  the  divil's  tae-pot." 

"Tea-pot!" 

"All!  troth  and  it  is.  Ould  Sathan  is 
at  the  bothom  of  it,  does  ye  mind!  He 
haats  the  wather  there,  now,  to  coax  saints 
to  dbrink  tae  wid  him,  the  spalpeen!  and 
thin  he'll  make  the  most  of  'cm,  d'ye  sae, 
your  honor!  Och!  it's  a  lucky  man  Ted- 
dy O'Lagherfy  is  for  gitting  off  so  asy, 
barring  he's  more  unlucky  by  token  he 
wint  to  the  place  at  all,  at  all." 

It  had  become  a  fixed  fact  with  Teddy, 
which  all  my  jests  and  arguments  failed 
to  alter,  that  the  Hot  Springs  and  his  Sa- 
tanic majesty  were  indissolubly  connected. 
But  this  did  not  lessen  the  joke,  which  for 
a  long  time  afterwards  served  Pierre  and 
myself  as  a  specific  for  blue  devils  and 
C7inii-i. 

As  I  said  before,  we  were  now  travel- 
ling through  a  country  thickly  peopled 
with  savages.  What  we  had  seen  of  these 
appeared  to  be  friendly;  but  knowing  the 
treacherous  nature  of  many,  we  felt  that 
self-preservation  demanded  we  should  at 
all  times  be  on  our  guard.  For  this  pur- 
pose, our  arms  were  always  ready  to  our 
hands  in  the  day  time,  and  at  night  each 
took  his  turn  of  standing  sentinel.  Thus 
far  we  had  escaped  all  difficulty;  but  Pierre 
often  warned  us  not  to  be  too  sanguine  of 
reaching  Fort  Hall  without  a  brush  of 
some  kind,  as  he  well  knew  the  nature  of 
those  surrounding  us. 

The  sun  was  juFt  sinking  behind  the 
Blue  Mountains,  when  we  came  to  a  small 
stream — a  tributary  of  Snake  river — that 
took  its  devious  course  through  a  valley 
between  two  precipitous  ridges,  and  thence 
through  a  canon  of  a  thousand  feet  in 
depth.  The  valley  was  shaded  by  large 
trees  of  various  kinds,  and  was  romantic 
in  its  appearance.  It  contained  good  gra- 
zing also,  and  good  water,  and  this  made 
it  a  desirable  camp-ground.  Hobbling  our 
horses  and  setting  them  free,  we  kindled 
a  fire,  around  which  v;e  squatted  to  cook 
our  meat,  smoke  our  pipes,  and  fill  up  the 
intervals  with  the  most  amusing  subjects, 
among  which  Teddy  and  bis  "  divil's  tae- 
pot"  came  in  for  their  full  quota  of  mirth- 
ful comment. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


31 


I 


At  lensth  we  began  to  grow  drowsy, 
and  having  seen  our  animals  tethered 
within  the  circle  of  the  fire,  and  it  being 
Pierre's  turn  to  stand  guard,  Teddy  and  I 
threw  ourselves  upon  the  ground,  our  blan- 
kets rolled  around  us,  and  soon  were  fast 
asleep.  For  an  hour  or  two  every  thing 
passed  off  quietly,  when  Pierre  awoke  me 
with  a  gentle  shake. 

"  Ver  Borre,  Monsieur,  to — vot  you  call 
him — deesturb  you, eh! — but  de  tam  Injen 
— sacre  le  diable!" 

"  Well,"  said  I,  starting  up,  "  what  is  it] 
Are  we  attacked!"  and  at  the  same  time  I 
woke  Teddy. 

"  By  gar!"Teturned  the  Frenchman,  "  I 
see  von  leetle — vot  you  call  him — sneak- 
er, ehl  Him  creep — creep — creep — and  I 
tink  I  wake  you,  sare,  and  soot  him,  by 
tam!" 

"Faith,  that's  it!"  cried  Teddy,  grasp- 
ing his  rifle  and  springing  to  his  feet: 
"  That's  it,  now!  Shoot  the  haathen!" 
'^^  By  this  time  I  was  fully  aroused  to  the 
sense  of  danger;  and  quickly  learning 
from  Pierre  where  he  had  seen  the  savage, 
I  grasped  my  rifle  and  sprang  beyond  the 
fire-light,  in  an  opposite  direction,  followed 
by  my  companions.  We  had  not  gained 
ten  paces,  when  crack,  crack,  went  some 
five  or  six  muskets,  the  balls  of  which, 
whizzing  over  our  heads,  did  not  tend  to 
lessen  our  speed.  However,  we  reached 
the  covert  unharmed,  and  for  the  time  con- 
sidered ourselves  safe.  We  turned  to  re- 
connoiter,  but  not  a  sign  of  living  thing 
could  we  see  save  our  horses,  which  stood 
with  ears  erect,  trembling  and  snorting,  as 
if  conscious  of  a  hidden  foe. 

For  an  hour  we  remained  in  this  man- 
ner, when,  concluding  the  enemy  had  de- 
parted, I  proposed  returning  to  the  fire. 

"Hist!"  whispered  Pierre,  grasping  my 
arm.     "  You  sail  see,  Monsieur." 

And  he  was  right;  for  not  ten  minutes 
afterwards,  he  silently  directed  my  atten- 
tion to  some  dark  objects  lying  flat  upon 
the  ground,  which,  with  all  my  experience 
and  penetration,  I  could  not  believe  were 
savages,  until  I  perceived  them  gradually 
near  our  horses.  Then  I  became  alarm- 
ed, lest  reaching  them,  they  might  speed- 
ily mount  and  escape,  leaving  us  to  make 


the  best  of  a  perilous  and  toilsome  journey 
on  foot. 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  Pierre]  I  fear 
we  are  in  a  bad  fix." 

"  Je  me  couche — ^je  tire  fur  lui:  I  lie 
down,  sare — I  soot  at  him.  You  sail  see. 
Wait  von  leetle  minneet.  Ven  you  hears 
my  canon,  den  you  soot  and  run  at  him  a? 
le  diable." 

Saying  this,  Pierre  glided  away  as  noise- 
lessly as-  an  Indian,  and  I  saw  nothing 
more  of  him  for  several  minutes.  Mean- 
time, Teddy  and  I  kept  our  eyes  intently 
fixed  upon  our  stealthy  foes,  and  our  rifle? 
in  rest,  ready  to  give  them  their  deadly 
contents  at  a  moment's  warning.  Slow- 
ly, like  a  cat  creeping  upon  her  game,  did 
these  half  naked  Indians,  serpent-like, 
steal  towards  our  animals,  every  moment 
lessening  the  distance  between  them  and 
the  objects  of  their  desires.  I  began  to 
grow  nervous.  What  had  become  of 
Pierre!  If  he  intended  to  do  any  thing, 
now  I  thought  was  the  time.  A  few  mo- 
ments and  it  would  be  too  late;  and  act- 
ing upon  this  thought,  ]  drew  a  bead  upon 
the  most  advanced  savage,  and  was  about 
pulling  the  trigger,  when  the  latter  sud- 
denly bounded  to  his  feet,  uttered  a  yell  of 
delight,  and  sprang  towards  the  now  fright- 
ened animals,  imitated  in  his  manoeuver 
by  some  ton  or  twelve  others. 

"  Good  Heaven!  all  is  lost!"  I  exclaim- 
ed, bitterly. 

The  words  had  scarcely  passed  my  lips, 
j  when  bang  went  a  pistol  from  among  the 
horses;  and  the  foremost  savage — the  one 
,  I  had   singled  out,  and  who   was  on  the 
j  point  of  grasping  one  of  the  tether  rope.-< 
!  — bounded  up  into  the  air,  with  a  horrible 
'  yell,  and  fell  back  a  corpse.     This  was 
wholly  unlocked  for  by  his  companions,  and 
checked  for  an  instant  those  pressing  on 
behind.      Remembering  Pierre's  request, 
I   whispered   Teddy  to  "throw"  his  man 
and  charge.     Both  our  rifles  spoke  togeth- 
er, and  down  tumbled  two  more.     At  the 
same  moment  Pierre's  rifle  sent  another  to 
his  account;  and  simultaneously  springing 
forward,  all  three  of  us  made   the  welkin 
ring  with  our  shouts  of  joy  and  defiance. 
This  was  the  grand  cowp  de  grace  of  the 
niffht.     The  Indians  were  alarmed  and  be- 


32 


LENI-LEOTI: 


wildered.  They  had  counted  on  certain 
success  in  stealing  our  horses  without  the 
loss  of  a  man.  Four  had  fallen  in  as 
many  seconds;  and  fancying  themselves 
in  an  ambuscade,  they  turned,  with  wild 
yells  of  affright,  and  disappeared  in  every 
direction;  so  that  by  the  time  I  had  joined 
Pierre,  we  were  masters  of  the  field,  and 
not  an  unwounded  foe  in  sight. 

"  You  see  hoss  safe,  Monsieur,"  said 
Pierre,  hurriedly,  as  we  met;  "  and  I  see 
to  tam  Injen,  eh!"  and  without  waiting  a 
reply,  he  darted  forward,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment was  engaged  in  tearing  off  the  bloody 
scalps  of  the  slain. 

As  every  mountaineer  considers  this  his 
prerogative,  I  did  not  interfere,  but  order- 
ing Teddy  to  assist  me,  cut  the  lariats  and 
led  our  horses  back  into  the  darkness,  from 
fear  of  another  attack,  in  which  we  might 
come  out  second  best.  In  a  few  minutes 
Pierre  approached  me  leisurely,  and  laugh- 
ingly said: 

"  Tout  va  bien:  All  pe  veil,  sare;"  and 
he  held  up  to  the  light  four  bloody  scalps. 
'•  Von,  two,  tree  not  pe  dead,  I  kill  him. 
Good  for — vot  you  call  him — stealer,  ehl 
— ha,  ha,  ha!"  and  taking  out  his  box,  he 
deliberately  proceeded  to  take  snuff  with 
his  bloody  fingers,  adding,  by  way  of  ac- 
companiment: "Von  tam  ver  moche  ex- 
sallant  joke  him — ha,  ha,  ha!  Sacre!  me 
tink  him  get  von  leetle  tam — vot  you  call 
him — astonishment,  eh]  By  gar!  ver 
moche  good." 

As  we  did  not  consider  it  prudent  to 
venture  again  within  the  fire-light,  we  de- 
cided to  remain  where  we  were  through 
the  night  and  guard  against  surprise.  All 
was  dark  around  us,  except  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  roaring  fire,  which,  flickering 
to  the  passing  breeze,  made  the  scene  of 
our  late  encampment  look  dismal  enough. 
To  add  to  its  gloom  and  clieerlessness,  we 
were  presently  greeted  with  the  distant 
howl  of  a  hungry  pack  of  wolves.  Every 
moment  these  howls  grew  louder,  showing 
the  animals  were  approaching  the  spot, 
v/hile  our  horses  snorted  and  became  so  rest- 
less we  could  scarcely  hold  them.  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  hungry  beasts  of  prey, 
till  at  length  we  could  perceive  their  fiery 
eyeballs,  and  occasionally  catch  a  glimpse 


'  of  their  bodies,  as  they  hovered  around  the 
circle  of  the  fire,  fearing  to  approach  the 
carcasses  they  so  much  coveted. 

For  an  hour  or  two  they  prowled  and 
howled  around  us,  "  making  night  hideous 
with  their  orgies,"  while  the  fire  gradually 
growing  less  and  less  bright,  increased 
their  boldness  accordingly. 

At  last  one,  unable  to  longer  bear  the 
keen  pangs  of  hunger,  leaped  forward  and 
buried  his  teeth  and  claws  in  the  carcass 
of  one  of  our  late  foes.  The  others  fol- 
lowed his  example,  and  in  less  than  a 
minute  as  many  as  fifty  of  these  ravenous 
animals  were  growling,  fighting,  gnashing 
their  teeth,  and  tearing  the  flesh  from  the 
bones  of  the  dead  Indians. 

Pierre  now  informed  me  we  were  in  im- 
minent danger  of  being  attacked  ourselves, 
as,  having  once  tasted  blood,  and  their  ap- 
petites being  rather  sharpened  than  ap- 
peased, they  would  only  become  more  bold 
in  consequence.  To  my  inquiry  as  to 
what  should  be  done,  he  replied  that  we 
must  continue  to  kill  one  of  their  number 
as  fast  as  he  might  be  devoured  by  his 
companions;  and  setting  the  example,  he 
shot  one  forthwith.  Sure  enough!  no 
sooner  had  the  beast  fallen,  than  the  rest 
sprang  upon  and  devoured  him.  By  that 
time^  my  rifle  was  loaded,  and  I  knocked 
over  another,  which  met  the  same  fate. — 
In  this  manner  we  kept  firing  alternately 
for  a  couple  of  hours,  during  which  time 
the  old  stock  was  replenished  by  new 
comers,  until  I  began  to  fancy  all  of  the 
genus  would  be  present  before  daylight. 
But  at  last  one  after  another  got  satisfied, 
and  slunk  away  licking  his  chops.  No 
new  ones  appeared,  and  ere  the  stars 
grew  dim,  nothing  was  visible  of  the  last 
night's  butchery  but  a  collection  of  clean- 
licked,  shiny  bones.  While  the  fire  last- 
ed, we  could  see  to  take  sight;  but  after 
that  went  out,  we  fired  at  random;  though, 
knowing  the  exact  location  of  the  beasts, 
our  shots  generally  proved  successful  in 
killing  or  wounding. 

When  morning  again  put  a  smiling  face 
upon  the  recent  sable  earth,  we  mounted 
our  horses  and  quitted  the  loathsome  spot, 
thanking  God  for  our  providential  deliver- 
ance^ 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST 
CHAPTER  VI. 


33 


ARRIVE  AT  FORT  HALL FIND  BLACK  GEORGE 

ENLIST    HIM    WITH    THREE    OTHERS 

SOME     NEWS     OE      PRAIRIE     FLOWER A 

STORM UNDER   WAT  —  A     TURBULENT 

STREAM DANGEROUS      EXPERIMENT      OF 

PIERRE — ALL    SAFE   AT    LAST. 

It  was  a  warm,  pleasant  afternoon  in 
June,  that  we  came  in  sight  of  Fort  Hall, 
which  we  hailed  with  three  cheers  of  de- 
light; and  setting  spurs  to  our  horses,  in 
less  than  half  an  hour  we  rode  gaily  with- 
in the  gates. 

As  we  entered  the  area,  which,  though 
much  smaller,  was  fashioned  like  Fort 
Laramie,  I  perceived  a  small  group  of 
mountaineers  or  trappers,  among  whom 
were  two  or  three  Indians,  all  apparently 
engaged  in  some  important  trafRck.  The 
next  moment  I  heard  a  well  known  voice 
exclaim: 

"  It's  done  gone  then, or  I'm  no  snakes; 
and  heyar's  what  never  backs  for  nobody 
and  nothin." 

The  next  moment  the  speaker  saunter- 
ed toward  me,  just  as  I  had  dismounted  from 
my  horse.  As  he  approached,  he  looked 
me  steadily  in  the  face  a  moment,  and 
then  springing  forward  with  hand  extend- 
ed and  flashing  eyes,  fairly  shouted: 

"  Bosson — for  a  thousand  wild-cats — I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  'tain't;"  and  ere  the  sent- 
ence was  concluded,  my  hand  was  suffer- 
ing under  the  powerful  but  welcome  pres- 
sure of  that  of  Black  George.  "  Well," 
he  added,  "  I'll  be  teetotally  rumflumuxed, 
ef  I  don't  think  you're  a  trump,  and  a  ace  o' 
diamonds  at  that.  Whar  d'ye  come  from 
now,  and  which  way  goin]  ef  it's  not  tal- 
lied on  a  private  stick." 

"  Direct  from  Oregon  City,"  I  answered, 
by  no  means  backward  in  displaying  my 
delight  at  meeting  him  again. 

"  Whar's  the  gals?" 

"  Left  them  all  behind  me." 

"  Augh!  'Spect  you  left  your  heart  thar 
too,  eh!" 

"Possibly." 

"  I'd  swear  it.  Well,  boss,  don't  blame 
ye.  Them's  about  as  nice  human  picters 
as  ever  this  nigger  seed.  Been  thirty 
year  younger,  might  hev  got  into  deep  wa- 


ter thar  myself,  and  lost  the  whole  kit. — 
Howsomever,  this  coon  never  tried  treein 
a  gal  but  once't — and  Suke  Harris  soon 
blowed  damp  weather  on  to  his  powder, 
and  it  warn't  no  shoot  no  how — augh! — 
Well,  well,"  he  added,  with  something  like 
a  sigh,  "them's  by-gones  any  how,  and 
'spect  it's  all  for  the  best — 'case  I'm  an 
old  dog,  and  lead  a  wanderin  life;  and 
when  I  kind  o'  git  rubbed  out — why,  ye 
see,  I  haint  got  no  pups  nor  nothin  to  be 
a  barkin  over  my  last  roost." 

Here  Black  George  coughed  a  little, 
and  turned  aside  his  head,  when  his  eye 
chanced  upon  Teddy  and  Pierre,  who,  hav- 
ing dismounted  at  another  part  of  the  en- 
closure, were  now  approaching  to  join  me. 

"  Why,  hello,  boss',  how  goes  it!"  con- 
tinued the  old  trapper,  addressing  the  Irish- 
man, and  extending  his  hand.  "  And  here's 
Pierre  too,  lookin  as  nateral  's  a  young 
cub;  and  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  that  same  old 
smell-box  aint  jest  whar  it  used  to  was,  a 
reg'lar  fortress,  makin  his  fingers  runners 
'tween  it  and  his  nose.  Augh!  gin  us  a 
chaw,  and  see  the  ginteel  done." 

"  Faith!  ye're  the  same  ould  chap,"  re- 
joined Teddy,  grasping  one  hand,  while 
the  Frenchman  took  the  other.  "  Sure, 
an'  it's  good  for  sore  eyes  to  sae  the  likes 
o'  ye  agin." 

"Ah!  Monsieur  Blake  Shorge,"  added 
Pierre,  "  it  give  me  von  ver  moche  le  plus 
grande  delight,  for — vot  you  call  him — 
discoverment  you, eh'!  Ver  exceeding  tam 
glad,  by  gar!" 

As  soon  as  the  congratulations  were 
over  on  all  sides.  Black  George  turned  to 
me  with: 

"  Well,  Bosson,  hearn  any  thing  o'  your 
pardnerl" 

"  Nothing;  and  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  hunt  him  out,  if  among  the  living." 

"  A  long  tramp,  and  no  beaver,  or  I'm 
no  prophet." 

"  You  think  it  impossible  for  me  to  find 
him, then!" 

"  Well,  boss,  it's  hard  sayin  what's  un- 
possible;  but  I'd  jest  as  soon  think  o'  hunt- 
in  for  a  singed  tail  beaver,  I  would,  and 
odds  on  my  side  at  that." 

Here  I  entered  into  an  explanation  of 
how  he  was  lost,  and  wound  up  by  asking: 


34 


LENI-LEOTI: 


"And  now  do  you  do  not  tliink  it  possi- 
ble he  was  taken  prisoner?" 

"Nothin  an^in  it,  as  I  knows  on." 

"And  if  taken  prisoner  by  tlie  Mexi- 
cans, is  it  not  possible — nay,  more,  is  it 
not  probable — he  was  sold  into  slavery?" 
"  Why,"  replied  Black  George,  who 
seemed  struck  with  this  la^t  suggestion, 
"  I'll  gin  in  it  sort  o'  edges  that  way,  that's 
a  fact — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it  don't!  But 
'sposc  it's  all  60 — how's  you  to  diskiver 
him"! — 'case  it  looks  a  heap  mixed  to  this 
child,  to  see  it  in  the  cl'arest  light." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  wish  to  know  my- 
self, and  for  that  purpose  have  started  on 
the  search — being  the  least,  to  my  mind, 
I  could  do  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Then  j'ou"re  bound  sothe'ard,  'spose?" 

"  Exactly;  and  desire  you  to  join  me, 
with  three  as  good  men  as  you  can  select." 

"  Ah,  yes;  but  ye  see,  it's  beaver  time 
now,  and " 

"  I  understand;  but  I  am  willing  to  pay 
you  as  much  as  you  could  make  in  your 
regular  vocation." 

"  You  is,  hey]  Well,  come,  now,  that's 
a  sensible  and  feelin  speech,  and  you 
couldn't  hev  bettered  the  gist  on't,  ef  you'd 
a  splattered  it  over  with  all  the  big  words 
as  is  English.  I  like  a  straight  for'ard- 
toe-the-mark  way  o'dcalin — I'll  be  dogged 
ef  I  don't! — and  bein's  I  know  you're  a 
gentleman — v.hy,  I'll  jest  tell  ye  I'm  in, 
ef  it  takes  all  my  hair  to  put  her  through. 
Besides,  thar's  a  chance  to  raise  hair,  and 
that's  a  sport  as  this  nigger  al'ays  had  a  na- 
teral  incline  for.  I've  jest  got  in  from 
the  Blues,  and  made  a  sale  of  some  hides 
— so  I'm  ready  to  travel  and  fight  jest 
when  you  speak  it.     Got  any  bacca?" 

"Can  you  raise  me  three  iTiore  of  the 
right  sort." 

"  I  reckon." 

"Do  so;  and  we  will  start,  if  possible, 
to-morrow  morning." 

"Well,  that'll  jest  save  me  a  big  spree 
— augh!  I  say,  boys,"  he  continued,  drav 
ing  from  the  pocket  of  his  hunting  shirt  a 
small  canteen,  "  got  the  critter  here — and 
so  spose  we  take  an  inside  wet, eh?  Spect 
'twont  hurt  your  feelins  none;"  and  he  set 
an  example  which  was  very  accurately 
followed. 


"  By-the-by,  George,"  said  I, "  have  you 
seen  or  heard  any  thing  of  Prairie  Flow-' 
er,  since  that  night  when  she   appeared, 
gave  the  alarm,  and  disappeared  so  myste- 
riously?" 

"Jest  what  I's  a-goin  to  ax  you.  No, 
I  haint  never  sot  eyes  on  her  purty  face 
sence;  but  I  beam  a  trapper,  as  come  from 
the  solhe,  say  as  he  had  seed  her  down  to 
Taos  way,  and  all  her  Injins  was  along. — 
She  was  axin  him,  now  I  come  to  remem- 
ber, ef  he'd  heard  o'  a  prisoner  bein  taken 
that-a-ways  and  sold  to  the  mines." 

"Weil,  well,  what  did  he  reply?"  ex- 
claimed I,  as  a  sudden  thought  struck 
me. 

'"That  he'd  hearn  o'  several — but  none 
in  partikelar." 

"  Heaven  bless  her!  I  understand  it 
all!" 

"All  what?"  inquired  Black  George, 

"  Why,  when  I  saw  Prairie  Flower  last, 
I  informed  her  of  the  fate  of  Charles 
Huntly;  and  ten  to  one  she  has  set  off  to 
search  for  him!" 

"That's  it,  for  my  old  muley!"  cried 
Black  George,  not  a  little  excited.  "  I've 
said  afore  she  was  a  angel,  and  heyar"s  a 
possum  what  don't  speak  without  knowin. 
Lord  bless  her!  I  could  love  her  like  dar- 
nation,  jest  for  that.  Ef  she  aint  one  on 
'em,  why  was  peraries  made,  hey?" 

A  few  minutes  more  were  spent  in  like 
conversation,  when  Black  George  parted 
from  me  to  engage  some  companions  for 
our  journey.  Bidding  Teddy  look  to  our 
horses,  I  entered  the  common  reception 
room  of  the  fort,  greatly  elated  at  the  in- 
telligence just  received.  Sweet  Prairie 
Flower!  She  was  doubtless  at  that  very 
moment  engaged  in  an  undertaking  which 
should  have  been  performed  by  me  long 
before;  and  I  could  not  but  condemn  my- 
self, for  what  seemed  either  a  great  over- 
sight or  gross  neglect  of  duty.  And  should 
Heaven  favor  her,  and  she  discover  my 
friend  and  set  him  free — what  a  debt  of 
gratitude  would  he  owe  her  for  saving  him 
twice! — first  from  death,  and  secondly  from 
a  slavery  worse  than  death.  And  should 
this  happen,  what  would  be  the  result  to 
two  beings,  who,  whatever  might  be  out- 
ward seemings,  loved   each  other  with  a 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


passion  strong',  and,  on  the  part  of  Prairie 
Flower  at  least,  imperishable!  Sweet, 
mysterious  being!  I  could  hardly  realize 
she  was  only  mortal;  for  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  every  look,  thought  and  deed, 
w  hich  spoke  a  divinity — a  something  en- 
nobled above  mere  frail  humanity. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour.  Black  George 
rejoined  me,  bringing  with  him  three  large 
boned,  robust,  good  looking  fellows,  who, 
he  informed  me,  were  ready  to  follow  me  at 
a  fair  remuneration.  In  a  few  minutes 
every  thing  was  settled,  when  each  depart- 
ed to  make  preparations  for  an  early  si  art 
on  the  morrow. 

A  storm,  however,  set  in  during  the 
night,  which,  raged  with  such  violence  the 
next  morning,  that  I  was  feign  to  defer 
my  departure  for  twenty-four  hours  long- 
er. To  me  the  day  wore  tediously  away; 
for  my  mind  was  continually  harping  on 
my  lost  friend  and  Prairie  Flower;  and 
now  that  I  had  gained  some  intelligence 
of  the  latter,  I  could  not  avoid  connecting 
the  two,  in  a  way  to  raise  my  hopes  in  a 
great  degree;  and  consequently  I  was  dou- 
bly anxious  to  be  on  the  way. 

But  if  the  delay  proved  tedious  to  me, 
not  so  was  it  with  my  companions;  who  had 
a  jolly  time  of  it  over  their  cups  and  cards, 
and  drank  and  played,  till  it  became  a  se- 
rious matter  for  them  to  distinguish  an  ace 
of  trumps  from  a  gill  of  whisky. 

However,  the  day  went  at  last,  as  all 
days  will,  and  I  was  gratified  the  second 
morning  with  a  peep  at  old  Sol,  as  he  rose 
bright  and  glorious  in  the  east.  I  hasten- 
ed to  rouse  my  companions — who  were 
rather  the  worse  for  the  previous  day's  in- 
dulgence, but  who  turned  out  as  well  as 
could  be  expected,  all  things  considered — 
and  in  a  short  time  we  were  all  mounted 
and  in  motion,  a  goodly  company  of  seven. 

Shaping  our  course  southward,  a  couple 
of  hours'  brought  us  to  Port  Neuf  river, 
which  we  found  very  turbulent  from  the 
late  storm,  and  in  consequence  very  diffi- 
cult to  cross.  After  examining  the  banks 
for  some  distance,  and  finding  no  good 
ford,  we  determined  on  swimming  it.  This 
was  no  easy  undertaking;  for  the  current 
ran  very  swift,  and  loudly  roared,  as  its 
flashing  but  muddy  waters  dashed  furious- 


ly against  the  rocks,  which  here  and  there 
reared  their  ugly  heads,  as  if  with  a  half 
formed  intention  of  damming  and  forcing 
it  to  another  channel. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Pierre  to  me,  as 
we  stood  hesitating  what  to  do;  "you  see 
tother  bank,  eh?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  Sacre!  by  tam!  now  I  tell  you  me  like 
him.  I  sail  'ave  von  grande  satisfactione 
of  put  my  foot  dere — or  I  sail  be  von — 
by  gar!  vot  you  call  him — dead  wet  hom- 
me,  eh"!" 

As  he  spoke,  he  spurred  his  horse  for- 
ward, and  the  next  moment  the  fiery  animal 
was  nobly  contending  with  an  element, 
which,  in  spite  of  his  struggles,  rapidly 
bore  him  down  on  its  bosom,  while  his  ri- 
der, as  if  to  show  his  utter  contempt  for 
danger,  sat  erect  on  his  back,  coolly  en- 
gaged in  taking  snufF. 

"H !"    exclaimed    Black    George, 

with  a  grin.  "  Ef  thar  aint  that  old  smell- 
box  agin!  Ef  ever  he  goes  under,  he'll 
do  it  with  a  sneeze.     Augh!"' 

'•'Sure,  and  it's  thro ublesomc  he  finds 
the  wather  now,  I'm  thinking,"  observed 
Teddy. 

"  Good  heavens!  he  is  indeed  in  difficul- 
ty!" I  exclaimed.  "Quick!  let  us  ride 
down  the  bank  and  be  prepared  to  give 
him  aid." 

And  in  fact  our  aid  came  none  too  soon; 
for  the  stream  had  borne  both  rider  and 
horse  down  to  a  narrosv  channel,  where 
the  water  rushed  furiously  over  the  rocks, 
and  being  partially  obstructed  below,  form- 
ed an  eddy  or  whirlpool  of  a  very  danger- 
ous character,  in  which  the  beast  was 
floundering  and  vainly  striving  to  reach 
either  bank.  By  this  time  Pierre  had  be- 
come aware  of  his  danger,  and  was  exert- 
ing his  utmost  skill  to  keep  his  seat,  and 
guide  his  animal  safely  out  of  the  fearful 
vortex.  Just  below  him  was  a  narrow 
canon,  of  considerable  depth,  and  at  its 
farther  termination  a  slight  fall,  where  the 
water  seethed  and  foamed  v/ith  great  vio- 
lence, after  which  it  became  con)paratively 
tranquil,  as  it  spread  out  on  a  broad  level, 
to  again  concentrate  its  greatest  force  at 
a  point  still  below.  As  v/e  reached  the 
bank  along  side  of  the  guide,  vre  all  dis- 


36 


LENI-LEOTI: 


mounted,  when  Black  George  leaping  up- 
on a  steep  rock  overhanging  the  stream, 
instantly  threw  him  a  rope  which  he  had 
selected  for  the  purpose.  Pierre  caught 
one  end  of  it  eagerly,  and  fearing  to  re- 
main longer  where  he  was,  instantly  aban- 
doned his  horse  and  plunged  into  the  wa- 
ter. The  next  minute  we  had  drawn  him 
ashore,  thuugh  not  entirely  scatheless,  as 
the  whirling  current  had  several  times 
thumped  him  against  the  rocks,  and  bruis- 
ed his  limbs  and  body  in  several  places. 

Pierre,  however,  seemed  to  care  more 
for  his  horse  than  himself;  and  no  sooner 
had  he  found  a  safe  footing  on  terra  firma, 
than  giving  himself  a  shake,  he  cried — 
"  Mine  boss,  by  gar!"  and  darted  away  to 
the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate  brute,  which 
was  now  being  hurried  against  his  will 
through  the  canon.  We  all  followed  Pierre 
down  the  stream,  but  ere  we  gained  the 
tranquil  part  of  the  river  before  spoken  of, 
the  animal  had  passed  safely  over  the  falls, 
and,  with  a  joyful  whicker,  was  now  fast 
swimming  to  the  shore,  where  he  was  soon 
caught  by  his  owner,  who  expressed  his 
joy  in  sundry  shouts  and  singular  antics. 

"Ah!  sacre!"  cried  the  Frenchman,  as 
he  remounted  his  gallant  pony,  shaking 
his  hand  with  an  air  of  defiance  at  the 
heedless  river:  "  I  sail  'ave  von  le  plus 
satisfactione  again  try  you  tam  drowning;" 
and  no  sooner  said,  than  he  spurred  into 
the  liquid  element,  and  succeeded,  after 
some  difficulty,  in  gaining  the  opposite 
shore,  an  example  we  all  safely  imitated. 

We  now  struck  one  of  the  most  north- 
ern points  of  the  Bear  River  Mountains; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  pursued  our 
course  without  accident,  over  steep  ridges, 
through  dangerous  defiles,  dense  thickets, 
deep  gorges  and  ravines,  past  yatvning 
chasms,  and  all  the  concomitants  of  wild, 
mountain  scenery.  Sometimes  we  stood 
on  a  point  which  commanded  an  extensive 
view  of  a  country  of  great  beauty  and 
grandeur — where  the  soul  could  expand 
and  revel  amid  the  unchanged  fastnesses 
of  a  thousand  years — and  anon  we  were 
completely  hidden  from  the  sight  of  any 
thing  but  the  interwoven  shrubbery, 
through  which  we  diligently  labored  our 
way.     At  last  we  came  to  a    fine  spring, 


around  which  grew  a  limited  circle  of  ex- 
cellent grass,  presenting  the  appearance  of 
a  spot,  which,  at  some  remote  period,  had 
been  cultivated.  Here  we  encamped,  built 
a  fire,  ate  our  suppers,  and  slept  to  the  mu- 
sic of  howlinof  wolves. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 


BEAR    RIVER     MOUNTAINS — BEAR     RIVER — 

TRAPPING REMARKS  ON     THE    TRAPPERS 

A   STAMPEDE — ALARM — FLIGHT — MORE 

SCARED  THAN  HURT — THE  JOKE    ON  ME — 
STAND    TREAT. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  weary  the  reader 
with  farther  detail  of  mountain  life.  Un- 
less in  cases  of  extreme   peril,  from  sav- 

I  ages  or  wild  beasts,  the  scenes  are  monot- 
j    ° 
onous;  and   enough  I  think  has    already 

I  been  recorded  to  give  a  correct  idea  of  life 
I  as  it  is,  with  all  its  dangers  and  hardships, 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  civilization. — 
I  may  therefore  be  permitted  to  press  for- 
ward— annihilate  time  and  space — only 
pausing  occasionally  to  give  something- 
new  or  out  of  the  regular  routine  of  every 
day  adventure. 

It  was  my  intention  on  leaving  Fort 
Hall,  to  make  the  best  of  my  way  toward 
Taos — a  small  Mexican  village,  much  fre- 
quented by  mountaineers,  situated  in  the 
country  of  Texas,  on  the  western  side  of 
an  arm  of  the  Green  Mountains,  some  fif- 
ty or  sixty  miles  north  of  Santa  Fe,  and 
on  a  small  tributary  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
This  was  to  be  my  first  destination,  and 
where  I  was  in  hopes  to  gain  some  intel- 
ligence of  my  friend,  from  the  many  ad- 
venturers there  collected — the  travelling 
representatives  of  all  the  territories  as 
well  as  Mexico.  It  was  possible,  too,  I 
might  fall  in  with  Leni-Leoti  (which  the 
reader  will  bear  in  mind  is  the  Indian 
name  of  Prairie  Flower)  and  her  tribe, 
from  whom  I  had  sanguine  expectations  of 
gaining  some  information,  either  good  or 
bad.  If  Prairie  Flower  had,  as  I  inferred 
from  what  Black  George  imparted,  actual- 
ly been  in  search  of  Charles  Huntly,  I 
could  at  once  gain  the  result  and  extent  of 
her  operations,  and  shape  my  own  accord- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


37 


ingly.  With  this  view  of  the  matter,  as 
may  readily  be  supposed,  I  felt  no  little 
anxiety  to  see  her;  and  on  no  route,  to  my 
thinking,  would  I  be  more  likely  to  find 
her,  than  on  the  one  I  had  chosen  and  was 
now  pursuing. 

Making  the  best  of  our  way  over  the 
hills,  we  struck  the  Bear  river  on  the  third 
day  from  leaving  Fort  Hall.  This  river, 
which  takes  its  rise  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  mountain  range  to  which  it  gives 
name,  presents  the  curious  phenomenon 
of  a  stream  running  adverse  ways,  and 
nearly  parallel  to  itself,  for  a  distance  of 
from  one  to  two  hundred  miles.  Begin- 
ning, as  just  stated,  in  the  very  center  of 
the  Bear  River  Mountains,  it  dashes  away 
northward  on  its  devious  course,  for  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  or  two  hundred  miles,  and 
then,  encircling  a  high  ridge  with  the  bend 
of  an  ox-bow,  runs  southward  nearly  the 
same  distance,  enlarging  with  numerous 
tributaries,  and  empties  at  last  into  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  within  fifty  or  seventy- 
five  miles  of  its  own  head  waters.  For- 
merly this  stream  was  much  resorted  to  by 
trappers,  who  here  found  beaver  very  nu- 
merous, and  mountain  game  in  abundance. 
Beaver  dams,  in  process  of  decay,  may 
here  and  there  be  seen  at  the  present  day, 
and,  at  rare  intervals,  a  thriving  settle- 
ment of  the  little  fellows  themselves;  but, 
as  Black  George  remarked  with  a  sigh  of 
regret: 

"  It  aint  what  it  used  to  was,  no  how." 
Soon  after  we  had  camped.  Black  George, 
who  ever  had  an  eye  to  business,  started 
out  in  search  of  game,  and  soon  returned 
with  the  intelligence  that  "  beaver  sign 
was  about,"  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  get 
his  traps,  which  he  had  brought  along  in 
his  possibles. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do !"  I  inquired. 

"  Make  'em  come,  boss — nothin  short." 

As  I  had  never  witnessed  the  modus 

operandi  of  catching  beaver,  I  expressed 

a  desire  to  do  so,  which  was  responded  to 

with: 

"  Come  on,  Bosson,  and  I'll  put  ye 
through." 

Taking  our  way  to  the  river,  which  was 
here  rather  shallow.  Black  George  led  me 
down  Bome  two  hundred  yards,  and  then 


directed  my  attention  to  some  small  tracks 
made  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  the  stream, 
along  the  margin  of  the  water. 

"  Them's  the  sign,  d'ye  see!  and  thar's 
fur  about,  sartin,  or  this  nigger  don't  know 
beaver." 

Saying  this,  the  old  mountaineer  pro- 
ceeded to  set  his  traps,  of  which  he  had 
some  five  or  six.  Moistening  a  small  stick 
in  his  "  medicine,"  as  he  termed  it — an 
oily  substance  obtained  from  a  gland  of 
the  beaver — he  fastened  it  to  the  trap,  and 
then  placed  the  latter  in  the  "  run"  of  the 
animal,  just  under  the  edge  of  the  water, 
securing  it  to  a  sapling  on  the  bank  by  a 
small  cord.  Another  cord  led  off  from  the 
trap  several  feet,  and  was  attached  to  a 
'•  floating  stick" — so  called  from  its  float- 
ing on  the  water — by  which  appendage 
the  trapper,  in  case  the  beaver  caught 
makes  off  with  his  property,  is  enabled  to 
recover  it.  v 

"  And  now,"  said  I,  when  he  had  done, 
"  what  inducement  has  the  animal  to  be- 
come your  victim!" 

"  Why   he   gits   to  be   m.y  meat  you 
mean]" 
"  Exactly." 

"  Well,  I'll  jest  explanify — though  may- 
be I'll  not  git  it  out  as  scientiferic  nor 
some  folks — for's  I  said  sometime  ago, edi- 
I  cation  never  come  in  this  child's  line. — 
Ye  see,  it's  jest  this:  Beaver's  like  I've 
hearn  say  women-folks  was.  He's  got  an 
orful  cur'osity,  and  it  gits  him  into  bad 
snaps  without  his  intendin  it.  Ye  see, 
he'll  come  along  here  arter  a  while,  and 
he'll  smell  that  thar  '  medicine,'  and  think 
maybe  thar's  another  beaver  about — least- 
wise he'll  v/ant  to  know  purty  bad — and 
so  he'll  come  smellin  round,  and  afore  he 
knows  it, '  he's  put  his  foot  in't,'  and  is  a 
gone  beaver.     Augh!"  ' 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this,  Black 
George  coolly  continued  his  operations, 
till  all  his  traps  were  set,  and  then  togeth- 
er we  returned  to  our  camp.  On  arriving, 
I  found  that  the  beaver  mania  had  taken 
possession  of  Black  George's  companions, 
who  were  in  consequence  absent  with  like 
sinister  designs  against  the  hg.rinless  litti© 
fellows. 

On  returning  with  the  old  mountaineer 


38 


LENI-LEOTI: 


in  the  morning,  I  aoon  discovered  he  had 
"made  a  raise,"  as  he  expressed  it,  "of 
three  old  'iins  and  a  kitten."  The  other 
trappers  were  somewhat  successml  also; 
so  that  on  that  fatal  night,  no  less  than  a 
dozen  beaver  lost  their  "  run"  forever. 
\  Before  raisingcamp, my  mountain  friends 
proceeded  to  skin  the  animals,  scrape  the 
inside  of  the  pelts  of  fat  and  all  superflu- 
ous matter,  and  then  stretch  them  on  hoops 
for  drying — after  which  they  were  ready 
for  packing.  This  latter  is  done  by  turn- 
ing the  fur  inside,  putting  several  togeth- 
er and  fastening  ihem  with  cords,  when 
they  are  tinlitly  pressed  into  the  possibles 
of  the  trapper,  and  thus  conveyed  on  mules 
•  to  the  rendezvous-market,  sometimes  one 
place  and  sometimes  another. 

The  labor  of  the  trapper  is  very  severe, 
and  his  perils  without  number.  Some- 
times he  traps  on  his  own  account — alone, 
or  with  two  or  three  associates — and  some- 
times for  a  company.  In  the  first  instance, 
his  cognomen  is  the  "  free  trapper;"  in  the 
last,  the  "hired  hand."  In  either  case, 
however,  his  hardships  are  t!ie  same.  He 
sets  off  to  the  mountains,  as  soon  as  the 
spring  rains  are  over,  and  there  generally 
remains  till  the  approaching  storms  of  au- 
tumn drive  him  to  winter  quarters,  where 
his  time  is  spent  in  all  kinds  of  dissipa- 
tion to  which  he  is  accessible.  If  he 
make  a  fortune  in  the  summer,  hs  spends 
it  in  the  winter,  and  returns  to  his  voca- 
tion in  tha  spring  as  poor  as  when  he 
started  the  year  previous;  and  not  unfre- 
quently  worse  off;  for  if  a  "  free  trapper," 
ten  to  one  but  he  sacrifices  his  animals  in 
some  drunken,  gambling  spree,  and  is  for- 
ced to  go  out  on  credit,  or  as  a  "  hired 
hand."  He  braves  all  kinds  of  weather 
in  his  business,  and  all  kinds  of  danger, 
from  the  common  accidents  of  the  moun- 
tains, to  his  conflicts  with  wild  beasts, 
and  wilder  and  more  ferocious  savages. 
But  he  is  a  philosopher,  and  does  not  mind 
trifles.  So  ho  escape  with  a  whole  skin, 
or  even  with  life,  he  looks  upon  his  hardr 
ships,  encounters  and  mishaps,  only  as  so 
much  literary  stock,  to  be  retailed  out  to 
his  companions  over  a  warm  fire,  a  euchre 
deck,  and  a  can  of  whiskey. 

Seeking   the   best  keaver  regions^  he 


scans  carefully  all  the  river?,  creeks  an(| 
rivulets  in  the  vicinity  for  "  beaver  sign,'' 
regardless  of  danger.  If  he  find  a  treei 
across  a  stream,  he  gives  it  close  atten-j 
tion,  to  ascertain  whether  it  is  there  by» 
accident,  by  human  design,  or  v/hether  itj 
is  "  thrown"  by  the  animal  of  his  search! 
for  the  purpose  of  damming  the  water.  If 
the  first  or  second,  he  passes  on;  if  the 
last,  he  begins  his  search  for  the  "  run  of 
the  critier."  He  carefully  scrutinizes  all 
the  banks  and  peers  under  them  for  "  bea- 
ver tracks."  If  lie  find  any,  his  next  ex- 
amination is  to  ascertain  whether  they  are 
"  old"  or  "  fresh."  If  the  latter,  then  his 
traps  are  set  forthwith,  in  the  manner  al- 
ready shown. 

In  his  daily  routine  of  business,  he  not 
unfrequently  encounters  terrible  storms  of 
rain  or  snow — the  former  sufficient  to  de- 
luge him  and  raise  rivulets  to  rivers — and 
the  latter  to  bury  him,  without  almost  su- 
perhuman exertions,  far  from  mortal  eye, 
and  there  hold  him  to  perish, 

"  Unwept,  imhonorcd,  and  unsung." 

These  are  the  least  of  his  dangers.  He 
is  often  attacked  by  wild  beasts,  when  no- 
thing but  his  presence  of  mind,  his  cool- 
ness and  good  marksmanship,  can  extri- 
cate him  from  his  difficulty;  and  yet  he 
rarely  fails  to  come  oft'  conqueror.  Es- 
caping these,  he  must  be  continually  on 
his  guard  against  his  worst  foe,  the  wily 
Indian;  so  that  he  can  never  approach  a 
busn  with  the  surety  that  a  treacherous 
ball  may  not  put  a  close  to  his  mortal  ca- 
reer, and  all  his  hard  earnings  pass  into 
the  hands  of  an  enemy  he  ever  hates  with 
the  bitterness  of  concentrated  passion. — 
With  all  these  dangers,  and  hardships,  and 
vicissitudes,  your  bona  Jlde  trapper  loves 
his  calling,  v^ould  not  be  content  to  follow 
any  other,  and  is  in  general  a  rough,  jolly, 
dare-devil  sort  of  fellow,  who  not  unfre- 
quently att&ins  to  the  appointed  ago  of 
man,  and  at  last  "  goes  under"  with  all 
the  stoicism  of  a  martyr, 

"  V/ith  not  a  stone,  and  not  a  line. 
To  tell  he  e'er  had  been."  ^ 

Continuing  our  course,  but  in  a  more 
easterly  direction,  we  at  length  quitted 
the  mountains  and  descended  to  a  large, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


39 


beautiful,  rolling  prairie,  with  little  or  no 
vegetation  but  short  buffalo  grass.  Tak- 
ing our  way  over  this,  we  had  been  about 
half  a  (lay  out,  and  were  beginning  to  lose 
sight  of  the  lower  ranges  of  hills,  when 
we  heard  a  deep  rumbling,  like  heavy 
thunder  or  a  distant  earthquake,  and  our 
guide  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  exclaiming: 

"  Le  diable!"' 

"  Howly  jabersl  what  is  it,  now!"  cried 
Teddy. 

"Hist!"  exclaimed  Black  George.  "I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  I  don't  think  we're  chaw- 
ed up  this  time,  sure  as  sin!" 

"  What  is  it]''  I  echoed. 

"  Von  grande  stampede,  by  gar!"  an- 
swered Pierre. 

"  Stampede  of  what,  I  pray]" 

"  Buflier,"  replied  Black  George,  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Where  are  they]" 

"  Yonder  they  is  now — here-a-ways  they 
soon  will  be;"  and  as  he  spoke,  he  pointed 
over  the  plain  with  his  fhiger. 

Following  the  direction  with  my  eyes, 
I  beheld  in  the  distance  a  cloud  of  dust, 
which  rolled  upward  like  a  morning  fog, 
through  which,  and  in  which,  I  could  occa- 
sionally catch  a  glimpse  of  the  huge  ani- 
mals, as  they  bounded  forward  with  rail- 
road velocity. 

"  What  is  to  be  done]"  I  cried. 

"  Grin  and  bear  it,"  responded  the  old 
trapper. 

"  But  we  shall  be  trodden  to  death.  See ! 
they  are  coming  this  way!" 

"  Can't  die  yoimger,"  was  tire  cool  re- 
joinder. 

"  But  can  we  not  fly]" 
"  Howly  mother  of  Mary!"  shonted 
Teddy,  worked  up  to  a  keen  pitch  of  ex- 
citement; "  it's  fly  we  must;  sure,  as  if 
the  divil  was  afther  us,  barring  that  our 
flying  must  be  did  on  baasts  as  have  no 
wings,  now,  but  long  legs,  jist." 

"What  for  you  run,  eh]"  grinned  the 
Frenchman.  "Him  catchc  you,  by  gar! 
just  so  easy  as  you  catche  him,  von  leetie, 
tam — vot  you  call  him— musquito,  ehl" 

"It's  no  use  o' showing  them  critters 
our  backs,"  rejoined  Black  George. — 
"  Heyar's  what  don't  turn  back  on  nothin 
that's  got  hair." 


"  Well,"  continued  I,  "you  may  do  as 
you  please;  but  as  for  myself,  I  have  no 
desire  to  stand  in  my  tracks  and  die  with- 
out an  efibrt." 

Saying  this  I  wheeled  my  horse,  and  was 
just  in  the  act  of  putting  spurs  to  him, 
when  Black  George  suddenly  dashed  up 
along  side  and  caught  my  bridle. 

"See  heyar,  boy — don't  go  to  runnin 
— or  you'll  discomflumicate  yourself  ou- 
daciously — you  will,  by !  Eh,  Pierre]" 

"  Certainment,  by  gar!"  answered  the 
guide;  and  then  both  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"  What  do  you  mean]"  cried  I  in  aston- 
ishment, unable  to  comprehend  their  sin- 
gular actions;  and  I  turned  to  the  other 
mountaineers,  who  were  sitting  quietly  on 
their  horses,  and  inquired  if  they  did  not 
think  there  was  danger. 

"  Thar'o  al'ays  danger,"  replied  one,  "  in 
times  like  this;  but  thar's  no  safety  in 
runnin." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  what  are  we  to 
do,  then]  Stay  here  quietly  and  get  run 
over]" 

Black  George  gave  a  quiet  laugh,  and 
the  Frenchman  proceeded  to  take  snuflf. 
This  was  too  much  for  my  patience.  I 
felt  myself  insulted,  and  jerking  away  my 
rein  from  the  hand  of  the  trapper,  I  ex- 
claimed indignantly: 

"  I  do'  not  stay  here  to  be  the  butt  of 
any  party.     Teddy,  follow  me!" 

The  next  moment  I  was  dashing  over 
the  prairie  at  the  full  speed  of  my  horse, 
and  the  Irishman,  to  use  a  nautical  phrase, 
close  in  my  wake,  whooping  and  shouting 
with  delight,  at  what  he  considered  a  nar- 
row escape.  The  direction  we  had  taken 
was  the  same  as  that  pursued  by  the  run- 
ning buffalo;  and  we  could  only  hope  for 
ultimate  safety,  by  reaching  some  huge 
tree,  rock,  or  other  obstacle  to  their  pro- 
gress, in  advance  of  them.  How  far  we 
would  have  to  run  to  accomplish  this,  there 
was  no  telling;  for  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  ahead  of  us,  we  saw  nothing  but  the 
same  monotonous,  rolling  plain.  The 
herd,  thundering  on  in  our  rear,  was  so 
numerous  and  broad,  that  an  attempt  to 
ride  out  of  its  way,  by  turning  to  the  right 
or  left,  could  not  be  thought  of — as  the  ve- 


40 


LENI-LEOTI: 


locity  of  the  animals  would  be  certain  to 
bring  a  wing  upon  u?,  ere  we  could  clear 
their  lines.  There  was  nothing  for  it, 
then,  but  a  dead  race;  and  I  will  be  free 
to  own,  the  thought  of  this  fairly  chilled 
my  blood.  Exposed  as  I  had  been  to  all 
kinds  of  danger,  I  had  never  felt  more 
alarmed  and  depressed  in  spirits  than  now. 
What  could  my  companions  mean  by  their 
indifference  and  levity?  Was  it  possible 
that,  having  given  themselves  up  for  lost, 
the  excitement  had  stupified  some,  and 
turned  the  brains  of  others!  Horrible 
thought!  I  shuddered,  and  turned  on  my 
horse  to  look  back.  There  they  stood 
dismounted,  rifles  in  hand,  and,  just  beyond 
them,  the  mighty  host  still  booming  for- 
ward. Poor  fellows!  all  hope  with  them 
is  over,  I  thought;  and  with  a  sigh  at  their 
fate,  I  withdrew  my  gaze  and  urged  on  my 
steed. 

On,  on  we  sped,  for  a  mile  or  more, 
when  I  ventured  another  look  behind  me. 
Judge  of  my  surprise,  on  beholding  a  long 
line  of  buffalo  to  the  right  and  left,  rush- 
ing away  in  different  directions,  while  di- 
rectly before  me,  nothing  was  visible  but 
my  friends,  who,  on  perceiving  me  look 
back,  made  signs  for  me  to  halt  and  await, 
them.  I  did  so,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
came  up  laughing. 

"  Why,  Bosson,"  said  Black  George, 
waggishly,  "  I  hope  as  how  you've  run  the 
skeer  out  o'  ye  by  this  time;  for  I'll  be 
dog-gone  ef  you  can't  travel  a  lew,  on  per- 
tikelar  occasions!" 

"  Qui,  Monsieur,"  added  Pierre,  "  vous 
'ave  von  le  plus  grande — vot  you  call  him 
— locomotion,  ek!" 

"  But  how,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is 
wonderful,  did  you  escape?"  rejoined  I. 

"  Just  as  nateral  as  barkin  to  a  pup," 
answered  Black  George.  "  We  didn't 
none  on  us  hev  no  fear  no  time;  and  was 
only  jest  playin  possum,  to  see  ef  we  could 
make  your  haii-  stand;  never  'spectin, 
though,  you  was  a-goin  to  put  out  and 
leave  us." 

"  But  pray  tell  me  how  you  e.^tricated 
yourbelves!"  said  I,  feeling  rather  crest- 
fallen at  my  recent  unheroic  display. 

"  Why  jest  as  easy  as  shootin — and  jest 
tkat,  boss,  and  nothin  else." 


"  Explain  yourself." 

"  Well,  then,  we  kind  o'  waited  till  them 
critters  got  up,  so  as  we  could  see  thar 
peepers  shine,  and  then  we  all  burnt  pow- 
der and  tumbled  over  two  or  three  lead- 
ers. This  skeered  them  as  was  behind, 
and  they  jest  sniffed,  and  snorted,  and  sot 
off  ayther  ways  like  darnation.  It  warnt 
any  thing  wonderful — that  warnt — and  it 
'ud  been  onnateral  for  'em  to  done  any 
thing  else." 

"  I  say,  your  honor,"  rejoined  Teddy, 
with  a  significant  wink,  "  it's  like,  now, 
we've  made  jackasses  o'  ourselves,  barring 
your  honor." 

"  Very  like,"  returned  I,  biting  my  lips 
with  vexation,  "  all  but  the  barring." 

The  truth  is,  I  felt  much  as  one  caught 
in  a  mean  act,  and  I  would  have  given  no 
small  sum  to  have  had  the  joke  on  some 
one  else.  I  detected  many  a  quiet  smile 
curling  the  lips  of  my  companions,  when 
they  thought  I  did  not  notice  them,  and  I 
knew  by  this  th^  were  laughing  in  their 
sleeves,  as  the  saying  is:  but,  being  in  my 
service,  did  not  care  to  irritate  my  feelings 
by  a  more  open  display.  It  is  very  gall- 
ing to  a  sensitive  person  to  know  he  has 
made  himself  ridiculous,  and  is  a  private 
subject  of  jest  with  his  inferiors.  It  is  no 
use  for  one  under  such  circumstances  to 
fret,  and  foam,  and  show  lemper.  No! 
such  things  only  make  the  matter  worse. 
The  best  way  is  to  come  out  boldly,  own 
to  the  joke,  and  join  in  the  laugh.  Act- 
ing upon  this,  I  said: 

"  Friends,  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself 
— I  am  aware  of  it — and  you  are  at  liberty 
to  enjoy  the  joke  to  its  full  extent.  But 
remember,  you  must  not  spread  it!  and 
when  we  reach  a  station,  consider  me  your 
debtor  for  a  '  hea\y  wet'  all  round." 

This  proved  a  decided  hit.  All  laughed 
freely  at  the  time,  and  that  was  the  last  I 
heard  of  it,  till  I  fulfilled  my  liquor  pledge 
at  Uintah  Fort,  when  Black  George  ven- 
tured the  toast,  "Buffler  and  a  run,"  which 
was  followed  by  roars  of  mirth  at  my  ex- 
pense, and  there  the  matter  ended. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


41 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  VALLEY — A  LEGEND — THE  OLD 

trapper's  story FATE    OF  BEN  EOSE 

REFLECTIONS TEDDY'S  ACCOUNT  OF  HIM- 
SELF   DEATH    OF    HIS     PARENTS THE 

•'  OULD  PRAAST" HIS    FIRST    LOVE THE 

■WAY     HE     CAME     TO      LEAVE     IRELAND 

ALARMING    ONSET   OF    INDIANS. 

Passin<T  Uintah   Fort,  which  awakeaed 
flnany  painful  recollections   of  what  had 
occurred  since   my   former  visit  here  in 
company  with  my  lost  friend,  we  took  a 
southerly  course,  and  crossing  Green  river, 
continued  over  an  undulating,  mountain- 
ous country  to  Grand  river,  and  thence  to 
the  most  northern  range  of    the  Green 
Mountains,  where  gush  forth  the  head  wa- 
ters of  the  Arkansas  and  Rio  Grande.-^ 
Here  we  came  to  a  beautiful  valley,  shut 
in  by  high  hills,  through   which   flowed  a 
limpid  stream,  whose  banks  wore  a  velvet 
covering  of  rich  green  grass  and  innum- 
erable wild  flowers.     A   little  back  from 
the  stream,  on  either  side,  was-  a  delight- 
ful grove,  stretching  away  in  rows  of  ar- 
tificial  regularity.     In  fact,  from  what  I 
saw,  and  the  information  I  gathered  from 
my  compagnons  iVvoyaje,  I  have  every  rea- 
son to  believe  this  valley  was  at  one  time 
a  nobleman's  park.     I  said  it  was  shut  in 
by  bills;  but  th'^re  was  one  outlet  toward 
the  west,  where  the  streamlet  flowed  gent- 
ly away  between  two  ridges.     Entering 
through  this  pass,  you  are  struck  with  the 
singular  beauty  of  the  spot;  and  not  more 
so  than  by  a  huge  pile  of  ruins  on  a  gen- 
tle eminence  away  to  the  right.     Here,  as 
tradition  goes,  once  stood  a  famous  castle, 
belonging  to  a  Spanish  nobleman,  who, 
for  some  state  intrigue,  was  exiled    his 
country,  but  who  subsequently  flourished 
here  in  great  pov/er.     He  had  a  beautiful 
daughter,  to   whom  a  desccndent  of  the 
Aztecs  paid  court;  but  neither  the  father 
nor  the  daughter  fancied  him,  and  his  suit 
was  rejected.     Enraged  at  this,  he  svs'ore 
revenge;  and  possessing  power  and  influ- 
ence over  a  barbarous  race,  he  succeeded 
by  bribes  and  treachery  in  accomplishing 
his  fell  design.     The  lord  of  the  castle, 
feis  daughter  and  attendants,  all  fell  vic- 

3, 


tims;  and  the  mighty  structure,  touched 
by  the  devastating  fingers  of  Time,  at  last 
became  a  heap  of  ruin-s.  Such  is  a  brief 
outline  of  the  tradition,  which  I  give  for 
the  benefit  of  future  romancers. 

As  we  entered  this  ancient  retreat,  the 
bright  sun  of  a  hot  July  day  was  just  be- 
ginning to  dip  below  the  line  of  the  west- 
ern horizon,  and  his  yellovv  light  stream- 
ing along  the  surface  of  the  meand^Ting 
waters,  gave  them  the  appearance  of  a 
long  stream  of  molten,  quivering  gold. — 
Every  thing  in  and  about  the  place  seemed 
to  possess  the  charm  of  enchantment. 
Beautiful  and  merry  songsters,  of  all  hues, 
warbled  sweet  tones  among  the  branches 
of  the  trees,  or  amid  the  tall  grass  and 
flowers  beneath  them.  Here  and  there 
small  animals  of  the  hare  species  might  be 
seen  running  to  and  fro,  while  the  waters 
of  the  rivulet  occasionally  displayed  the 
shiny  sides  of  a  mountain  trout.  Take  it 
all  in  all,  to  me  the  place  seemed  a  second 
Eden;  and  when  I  turned  my  eyes  upon 
the  old  ruins,  my  imagination  at  once  car- 
ried me  far  back  into  the  dark  ages  of  the 
past,  and  the  strange  tales  I  had  heard  : 
seemed  literally  enacting  before  me. 

"  Thar's  been  aheap  o'  blood  spilt here- 
a-ways,  take  one  time  with  another,"  ob- 
served Black  George,  as,  with  our  pipes  in 
our  mouths,  we  sat  round  the  camp-fire  in 
the  eveaing. 

"  Faith!  and  it's  mesilf,  now,"  said  Ted- 
dy, "  that  'ud  be  afther  saaing  the  spot  as 
hasn't  been  likewise,  in  this  haathinish 
part  of  Christhendom." 

"  Oui,  Monsieur  Teddy,"  rejoined  the 
Frenchman.  "Ha,  ha!  by  gar  sacre!  dat 
pe  ver  nice  spoke — ver  nice.  You  sail 
make  von  moche  grande — vot  you  call 
him — oratore,  eh!" 

"  But  tell  us  what  you  know,"  said  I, 
addressing  the  old  trapper,  whom  I  was 
an.xious  to  draw  out  in  one  of  his  marvel- 
ous tales. 

"  Well,  boss,  I'll  gin  ye  the  gist  of  a 
spree  I  once  had  here,  ef  Teddy'll  agree 
to  tell  a  story  when  I'm  done." 
"  What  say  you,  Teddy]" 
"  Och,  now,  it's  not  me  mother's  child  : 
as  was  iver  blist  wid  the  gift  of  gab;  but  , 
to  make  the  time  slip  ofi"  asy,  I'll  do  me  j 


42 


LENI-LEOTI: 


trying  of  it,  rather  thin  lose  that  of  Mis- 
ther  Black  George,  barring  that  I'd  lose 
what  I  niver  had,  and  that  'ud  be  lost  twice, 
d'ye  mind!" 

«  As  how,  Teddy?" 

"  Why,  your  honor,  and  sure  wouldn't  I 
lose  the  hearing  the  story  towld,  and  the 
story  itsilf  besides?  and  troth,  wouldn't 
that  be  two]  and  isn't  two  twice,  now"!" 

"  Very  good  for  you;  but  come.  Black 
George,  go  on  with  the  tale!" 

Here  the  old  mountaineer  took  out  his 
pipe,  knocked  out  the  ashes,  put  some  of 
•the  weed  into  liis  mouth,  and  after  twisting 
and  turning  himself  into  a  comfortable  po- 
sition, thus  began: 

"  Thar's  none  o'  ye  here,  I  spect,  as 
knowed  Ben  Bose;  and  the  more's  the 
pity;  for  Ben  was  a  screamer,  he  was, 
right  out  and  out.  He  could  eat  more 
buffler  meat,  drink  more  whisky,  chaw 
more  bacca,  cuss  louder  and  tell  bigger 
lies,  nor  any  white  nigger  this  coon  ever 
seed — and  that's  a  dog-gone  fact.  Maybe 
you  think  as  how  I  exaggertate;  but  I  ken 
jest  prove  all  I've  said  and  more  too.  Why, 
I've  seed  Ben  afore  now,  when  his  meat 
bag  war  right  smart  empty,  chaw  up  half 
a  buffler,  all  wet  down  with  about  two  gal- 
lon o'  whisky,  and  then  swear  till  all  the 
trees  round  him  'ud  git  the  ager,  that  ef 
he  didn't  git  somethin  to  eat  soon,  he'd 
hev  to  go  a  wolfin  with  starvation.  And 
as  for  lyin— O  he  could  tell  sieh  lies,  could 
Ben,  and  swear  to  'em  so  parfict,  that 
though  you  knowed  all  the  time  they  was 
lies,  you'd  sort  o'  b'lieve  'em,  and  wouldn't 
care  to  do  nothin  else;  for  you'd  kind  o' 
say  to  yourself,  ef  they  aint  facts  they  ort 
to  be,  and  that's  the  same  thing.  Why 
Ben  used  to  tell  sich  almighty  lies  and 
stick  to  'em  so  long,  that  he'd  git  to  be- 
lieving 'em  himself,  he  would — and  then 
he'd  quit  'em;  for  he  war  never  knowed  to 
tell  any  thing  as  he  suspicioned  bein  true 
ef  he  could  help  it.  The  only  time  this 
child  ever  hearn  him  tell  a  fact,  was  onc't 
in  a  joke,  when  he  seid  he  vvas  the  biggest 
liar  on  arth;  but  he  made  up  for  that  right 
purty,  by  swearin  the  next  rainnet  ho'd 
never  told  a  lie  in  his  life. 

"But  v.'har  am   I  gittin  to!     Well,  ye 
spe  by  this,  that  Ben  was  one  of  the  boys, 


he  was,  and  nothin  else.  Poor  feller!  he 
went  under  at  last  like  a  sojer.  He  gin 
in  the  pint  right  out  thar-a-ways,  whar  ye 
see  the  light  shinin  on  that  big  tree." 
"  Ah!  then  he  died  here]" 
"  Well  he  did,"  said  the  old  trapper 
with  a  sigh;  "  but  he  died  game,  and  that's 
suthin.  It's  how  he  went  out  I'm  goin 
to  'lighten  ye;  but  I'm  goin  to  make  the 
story  short,  for  somehow  these  here  old 
by-gones  makes  me  feel  watery  like,  and 
I  never  had  much  incline  for  water,  no 
how.     Augh! 

"  Ben  was  purty  much  of  a  gentleman, 
any  how,  and  me  and  him,  when  we'd 
meet,  used  to  come  together  like  two 
pieces  o'  wax,  and  stick  to  each  other  like 
darnation,  ef  not  more.  The  last  time  I 
ever  seed  Ben,  I  got  on  his  '  run'  jest  back 
here  a  few  mile.  He  was  jest  makin  his 
tracks  out  from  Taos,  and  this  coon  war 
jest  crossin  over  from  Bent's  Fort.  Me 
and  him  had  two  muleys  apiece,  and  was 
both  goin  out  alone,  and  happened  to  meet 
jest  whar  two  trails  jine. 

"  '  How  is  ye  V  sez  he, '  and  whar  bound]' 
"  '  Why  I'm  some,'  I  sez  back  agin, '  and 
out  for  a  venter.' 
"'Jest  from  Bent's]' 
"•  No  whar  else,  boss.' 
"  '  I'm   from   Taos.      Let's   splice  and 
double  the  game.     Augh!' 

"  So  we  jined  in,  and  went  talkin  'bout 
this  thing  and  that,  and  tryin  which  could 
out  lie  tother,  till  we  got  to  this  here  val- 
ley and  camped. 

" '  What  d'ye  think  o'  this  place,  any 
how]'  sez  he. 

"  '  I  reckon  it's  a  few,'  sez  I. 
"  '  D'ye  ever  see  any  ghosts  here]'  sez 
he. 
" '  Never,  boss.' 

"'  I  hev,'  sez  he.  '  I  was  campin  here 
one  night,  and'd  jest  got  ready  to  blind  my 
daylights,  when  I  happ'd  to  cast  one  over 
thar  to  that  old  castle,  and  may  I  be  sot 
down  for  a  liar,  ef  I  didn't  see  a  live 
ghost  standin  right  on  that  big  pile,  all 
dressed  in  white,  and  lookin  orful  serious 
right  at  me.  At  fust  I  tried  to  think  it  a 
opterkal  collusion,'  sez  he;  '  but  then  I 
knowed  right  off  that  of  I  didn't  see  that 
I  didn't  see    nothin;  and  ef  I   didn't  see 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


43 


nothin,  what  in did   I  see?     Well, 

arter  squintin  at  it,'  he  sez, '  till  my  eye- 
kivers  got  so  heavy  I  had  to  put  splinters 
under  'em  to  prop  'em  up,  I  riz  up  on  to 
my  travellin  pins,  and  sot  out  on  a  explore, 
to  see  ef  'twas  the  ghost  of  a  white  man 
or  nigger.  On  that,'  sez  he,  '  the  ghost 
got  miffed,  and  makin  jest  one  step,  stood 
right  plum  beside  me." 

" '  Ben  Bose,'  sez  the  ghost,  '  I  want 
you.' 

'"  And  so  does  the  devil,'  sez  Ben. 

" '  Well,  I'm  him,'  sez  the  ghost;  and 
at  that  Ben  sez  the  thing  jest  turned  black 
in  the  face,  and  looked  orful  skeerful. 

" '  Hadn't  you  better  wait  till  I  git  rea- 
dyl'  axed  Ben. 

"  *  No,'  sez  the  old  chap,  '  I  want  you 
now;'  and  at  that  Ben  sez  he  took  hold  on 
him,  and  his  fingers  felt  hot  as  burnt  pitch. 

" 'Well,' sez  Ben,  'I  jest  clinched  into 
him,  and  sich  a  tuzzle  you  never  seed.  Fust 
me  and  then  Brimstone,  and  then  Brim- 
stone and  me,  for  two  mortal  hours.  But, 
by  hokey!  I  licked,'  sez  Ben,  'and  the  fel- 
ler mosied  with  a  flea'n  his  ear,  and  his 
tail  hangin  down  like  a  licked  puppy's.' 

"  Now,  boys,"  continued  Black  George, 
"  as  I've  said  afore,  Ben  was  the  all-fired- 
est  liar  on  arth,  or  else  I  might  a  b'lieved 
suthin  o'  this;  for  he  hadn't  but  jest  done 
spinnin  it,  when  bang,  bang,  bang — whizz, 
whizz,  whizz — yeahup!  yeaho!  whirp! 
come  ringin  in  our  ears,  as  ef  the  arth  was 
all  alive  with  shootin  niggers — and  that's 
a  scripter,  dog-gone  fact,  as  I'm  a  gentle- 
man! (Somebody  gin  me  a  chaw.  Thankee! 
Old  by-gbnes  starts  the  juice — aughl) 

" '  O  the  infarnals!'  sez  Ben,  jumpin  up 
and  showin  blood  on  his  noddle.  •'  I'm 
dead  meat,  sartin.  But  I'll  hev  company 
along,'  sez  he;  and  he  ups  and  blazes 
away,  and  throwed  the  nigh  one,  as  was 
comin  up,  right  purty. 

"  '  Two  on  'em,'  sez  I,  '  for  a  pint;'  and 
old  Sweet-love  gin  the  second  one  the 
belly-ache,  instanter. 

«  *  Now  let's  dodge,'  sez  Ben, '  and  keep 
our  hair;'  and  with  that  he  grabbed  hold  o' 
me,  and  both  on  us  put  out  for  the  hills. 

"  But  Ben  'ud  got  a  settler,  and  felt  top- 
heavy.  He  travelled  'bout  fifty  yard,  with 
my  arm  in  his'n,  and  five   yellin   devils 


close  behind  us,  and  then  he  pitched  on  to 
me,  and  said  he'd  got  to  quit,  and  axed  me 
to  lift  his  hair*  and  keep  it  from  the  cuss- 
ed niggers.  I  hated  to  do  it  like  darna- 
tion — but  thar  wasn't  no  help.  Ef  I  didn't, 
the  skunks  would;  and  so  I  outs  with  my 
butcher,  and  off  come  his  scalp  afore  you 
could  say  beans. 

"'Thankee,'  sez  Ben.  «  Good-by,  old 
boss,  and  put  out,  or  you'll  lose  two  on 
'em.' 

"  I  k  no  wed  he  war  right,  and  though  I 
hated  to  quit,  I  seed  thar  was  no  help,  and 
I  started  for  the  old  castle  yonder,  fodderin 
Sweet-love  as  I  went.  I  hadn't  got  fur, 
when  I  knowed  by  the  yell  the  rascals  had 
come  up  to  him.  They  'spected  to  make 
a  raise  thar,,  and  two  stopped  for  his  fur, 
and  the  rest  followed  me.  Ben  was  cun- 
in  though,  and  they  didn't  never  tell  what 
happ'd — them  fellers  didn't — I'll  be  dog^ 
gone  ef  they  did!  Ben  kind  o'  played 
possum,  and  they  thought  he  was  gone 
under,  and  so  while  they  was  foolin  thar 
time,  Ben  had  his  eye  skinned,  bu^nt  his 
pups'f  powder,  and  throwed  both  on  'em 
cold  right  han'some,  and  then  turned  over 
and  kicked  the  bucket  himself.  I  man- 
aged to  plug  another  jest  about  then,  and 
the  other  two  scamps  sot  ofl^  instanter,  for 
a  more  sal-u-bri-ous  climax — they  did — 
and  ef  you'd  only  seed  'em  streak  it,  you'd 
a  thought  lightnin  warn't  no  whar.  Why, 
jest  to  tell  the  clean  truth,  I'll  be  dog- 
gone ef  they  didn't  travel  so  fast,  that  a 
streak  o'  fire  followed  'em,  and  the  animals 
as  had  been  snoozin  on  thar  way,  waked 
up  and  looked  out,  and  concluded  the  arth 
was  burnin  most  conscrimptiously,  and  so 
they  put  out  arter  them  same  flyin  nig- 
gers. Fact,  by  Judas!  and  ef  you  don't 
b'lieve  it,  you  ken  jest  bile  me  for  a  per- 
simmon and  no  questions  axed." 

"  O,  of  course,"  said  I,  as  Black  George 
paused  and  looked  around  triumphantly, 
"  we  all  believe  it,  and  I  should  like  to  see 
the  man  that  would  not." 

"  Faith,  now,"  chimed  in  Teddy,  tipping 
me  the  wink,  "  ihe  man  that  wouldn't  be- 
lave  all  that  asy,  wouldn't  belave  that  the 


*  Take  his  scalp, 
t  Pistols. 


M 


LENI-LEOTr: 


moon's  made  o'  graan  chaase,  nor  that 
Metooselah  (blissinga  on  his  name  of 
8cripter  mimory!)  was  twice  as  big  as  a 
maating-house." 

"  Ha,  ha!  ver  fine — verfine,"  chimed  in 
the  Frenchman,  rubbing  his  hands  and  giv- 
ing a  peculiar  shrug.  "  I  am  ver  moche 
delight.  I  sail  peiieve  him  till  I  pe  von — 
yot  yon  call  him — gray-beard,  eh!" 

The  other  mountaineers  laughpd,  wink- 
ed at  one  another,  but  made  no  reply,  and 
Black  George  resumed,  with  all  the  gravi- 
ty of  a  parson: 


knows  but  a  wife  and  cliildreni — -all  «f 
whom  loved  hira  with  a  pure  affection.  He 
had  been  driven,  it  might  be,  by  the  stern 
arm  of  necessity,  to  gain  a  living  for  him- 
self and  them  among  the  wild  fastnesses 
of  the  mountains.  He  had  toiled  and 
struggled,  braved  dangers,  and  hardships, 
with  the  bright  hope  of  one  day  returning 
to  them  to  part  no  more  in  life.  And  they, 
all  ignorant  of  his  untimely  fate,  had  pos- 
sibly been — nay,  might  he  now — anxious- 
ly looking  for  his  return,  Alas!  if  so,  they 
must  forever  look  in  vain.     No  news  of 


Well,  sence  you  b'lieve  it,  I  don't  see    him,  peradventure,  would  ever  reach  their 
]iO  use  as  I'll  hev  to  prove  it — and  that's    ears — and  certainly   no  Ben    Bose  would 


suthin  gained,"  he  added,  soUo  voce. — 
"  Well,  when  I  seed  the  field  was  clear,  I 
jest  mosied  back  to  Ben  to  see  how  he'd 
come  out,  for  then  I  didn't  know.  I  shuf- 
fled up  to  him,  and  thar  I  seed  the  var- 
mints lyin  by  his  side,  clean  meat  and  no- 
thin  else,  and  Ben  Bose  as  dead  nor  a  biled 
kitten.  I  felt  kind  o'  orful  for  a  while,  and 
had  to  play  the  squaw  a  leetlc,  jest  for 
old  acquaintance's  sake.  When  I'd  rub- 
bed the  water  out  o'  my  spy-glasses,  I  sot 
to  work,  dug  a  hole,  and  kivered  Ben  over 
decent,  at  least  a  foot  below  wolf-smell. 
Then  I  went  a  hair  raisin,  and  lifted  all 
the  skunks'  top-knots,  took  all  thar  mus- 
kets and  powder,  and  sot  down  to  my  lone 
camp-fire,  feelin  as  used  up  and  womanish 
as  ef  I'd  shuk  with  the  ager  a  month.  The 
only  feel-good  I  had  that  night,  was  hearin 
the  infernal  wolves  tearin  the  meat  off  o' 

them dirty  niggers'  bones.    The  next 

mornin  I  sot  on  agin,,  and  took  on  Ben's 
muleys,  and  it  was  a  purty  considerable 
tiroe  afore  I  made  another  trail  in  this  here 
valley.  Tiiar,  you've  got  the  meat  o'  the 
story,  and  I'm  done.     Augh!" 

Though  more  familiar  with  mountain  life 
and  all  its  rough  scenes,  than  when  I  first 
heard  the  old  trapper  relate  his  adventures, 
yet  the  tale  he  had  just  told  in  his  rude, 
off-hand  way,  produced  many  painful  feel- 
ings. The  story  in  the  main  I  believed  to 
he  true — at  least  that  part  which  related 
to  the  death  of  the  trapper — and  I  could 
not  avoid  some  very  unpleasant  reflections. 
Who  was  Ben  Bose,  and  how  came  he  here! 
Ha('  he  ary  near  and  dear  relatives!  Ay, 
perchance  he  had  a  sister — a  mother — who 


ever  again  appear.  Should  they  venture, 
however,  to  make  inquiry  among  the  trap- 
pers who  had  known  him,  what  painful  tid- 
ings would  the  common  brief  rejoinders, 
"  he's  gone  under,"  or  "  been  rubbed  out," 
convey  to  them,  and  how  lacerate  their 
sinking  hearts!  Poor  fellow!  Here  he 
slept  his  last  sleep,  unheeding  and  unheed- 
ed, his  memory  forgotten,  or  recalled  only 
on  an  occasion  like  this  as  a  fire-side  past- 
time. 

"Alas!  sighed  I,  "  what  an  unenviable 
fate!  and  how  many  hundred  poor  human 
beings  like  him  are  doomed  to  share  it!" 

I  was  recalled  from  my  rumination,  by 
hearing  clamors  for  a  story  from  Teddy, 
who,  now  that  Black  George  had  told  his, 
seemed  little  inclined  to  favor  us. 

"  Remember  your  promise,"  said  I,  join- 
ing in  with  the  others. 

"Faith!"  answered  Teddy,  resorting  to 
his  peculiar  habit,  when  puzzled  or  per- 
plexed, of  scratching  his  head:  "Faith, 
now,  gint]emen,if  ye'll  allow  a  poor  body 
like  mesilf  to  obsarve,  it's  me  mother's 
own  son  as  is  thinking  it's  a  mighthy  tight 
fix  I'm  in.  Troth!  ye  axes  me  for  a  story, 
and  it's  hardly  one  mesilf  knows  to  tell 
yees.  Och!  I  has  it!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
eyes  brightening  with  a  sudden  thought; 
"  I  has  it,  now,  claan  at  me  fingers  ends, 
barring  the  nails  which  isn't  counted  at 
sich  times,  and  won't  make  any  difference 
for  being  longer  some.  I  hr.s  it!  I'll  tell 
yees  how  I  com'd  to  lave  ould  Ireland — the 
swaat  land  o'  murphies  and  murthering 
fine  ladies — bless  their  angel  sowls,  ivery 
baastly  one  on  'em!    barring  the  baasljj' 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  TSE  FAR  WEST. 


45 


part,  now,  which  I  ounly  mintioned  by  way 
of  smoothing  the  sintence.  ' 

*'  Yes,  yes,  give  us  tlie  yarn,"  cried  a 
voice;  "  and  don't  spin  it  too  long,  for  it's 
gittin  late." 

'•  Ay,  Teddy,"  I  added,  "  I  think  that 
will  do-^only  make  it  short." 

"By  gar!"  rejoined  Pierre,  having  re- 
course to  his  box,  "  I  tink  so,  Monsieur 
Cut  him  off  so,  von,  two,  tree  feets,  and 
den  him  be  von  ver  exsallent  good,  eh! — 
Je  le  crois." 

"  Will,  ye  sae,  thin,  gintlemen,"  resum- 
ed Teddy,  "  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  as 
Father  Murphy  used  to  say  whin  he  wint 
to  carve  a  chicken  tail  foremost,  I  was 
born  in  ould  Ireland,  not  a  tousand  miles 
from  Cor-r-k,  ayther  ways.  Me  father — 
pace  to  his  ashes ! — barring  I  niver  saan  the 
proof  he  was  me  father,  and  there  was  dis- 
pute about  it — was  a  gintleman  laborer,  as 
had  plenty  to  do  all  his  life  and  little  to  ate. 
He  loved  whisky,  the  ould  chap — spaking 
riverintly— and  one  day  he  took  it  into  his 
head  to  die,  by  token  as  he  said  there 
wasn't  air  enough  for  ivery  body  to  brathe, 
and  he'd  jist  sacrifice  himself  a  marthyr 
for  the  good  of  others.  Will,  me  mother 
— Heaven  rist  her  sow!!— she  become  a 
widder  in  coorse,  and  took  on  mighty  bad 
about  her  Saint  Dennis,  as  she  called  me 
dead  father — though  it's  little  of  a  saint  as 
she  thought  him  whin  living — and  so  to 
drown  her  sorrow,  she  took  to  the  bothel 
too,  and  soon  afther  died  spaachless,  call- 
ing for  wather,  wather,  the  ounly  time  I 
iver  heerd  her  mintion  it,  and  by  token  of 
that  I  knowed  she  was  uncanny. 

"  Will,  gintlemen,  ye  sae,  by  raason  of 
both  me  parents  dying,  I  was  lift  a  hilp- 
less  infant  orphan  of  fourteen,  widout  fa- 
ther or  mother,  or  a  shilling  in  me  pocket, 
or  a  divil  of  a  pocket  in  me  coat,  barring 
that  it  wasn't  a  coat  at  all,  at  all,  ounly 
rags  sowed  the  gither,  jist.  Me  father's 
and  mother's  estate  comprehinded  ounly  a 
bed,  some  pots  and  kithles,  two  broken 
stools,  and  a  table  as  had  it's  ligs  cut  off 
for  kindling-wood.  So,  ye  sae,  that  was 
soon  sittled,  and  thin  I  was  lift  a  poor, 
houseless  wanderer,  widout  a  place  to  go 
to,  or  a  relation  in  the  wide  wor-r-Id,  bar- 
ring three  brothers  as  was  away,  an  un- 


cle, two  aunts,  and  about  a  dozen  cousins, 
all  poorer  nor  mesilf.  Will, I  took  to  cry- 
ing for  a  living,  and  a  mighty  nice  time  I 
had  on't,tilloneday  Father  Murphy  come'd 
along — bllssing  on  his  name,  the  ould 
spalpeen! — -and  axed  me  would  I  like  to 
come  and  live  wid  him? 

"Faith!  maybe  it  wasn't  long  saying 
yis  I  was;  and  so  the  ould  praast  took  me 
home  wid  him,  and  said  if  I'd  work  right 
har-r-d,  and  be  a  good  boy,  I  should  live  as 
will  as  his  pigs — which  was  mighty  wilJ, 
he  said,  for  they  got  fat  on't;  and  so  did  F, 
barring  that  all  the  flish  as  crept  on  me 
bones  over  the  night,  was  worked  off  o'  me 
through  the  day.  Howiver,  it's  bether  nor 
starving  to  death,  I  sez  to  mesilf,  barring 
it's  not  much  choice  I  sees  in  it,  and  one's 
jist  as  asy  as  the  tother,  and  a  good  bit 
asier. 

"  Now's  you're  afther  having  a  short 
story,  I'll  skip  over  four  years,  and  till  ye 
what  turned  up  thin,  by  way  of  variety. 

"  The  praast,  Father  Murphy,  ye  sae^ 
had  a  beauthiful  niece,  as  was  jist  my  age, 
barring  that  she  was  a  couple  o'  years 
younger.  Now  ye  must  know  I  iver  had 
a  fondness  for  the  female  sex,  and  I  kind 
o'  took  to  liking  Kathleen  by  raason  of 
natheral  instinct.  And  Kathleen,  the 
darling!  she  sort  o'  took  to  liking  me  be- 
times, more  by  token  I  was  adacent  body, 
and  she  hadn't  inny  one  bether  to  like;  and 
so  betwaan  us,  we  both  thought  of  each 
other  waking,  and  dramed  about  'em  in 
our  slaap.  Now  divil  a  word  did  the  praast 
know  of  it,  at  all,  at  all,  and  that  was  all 
the  bether  for  the  pair  of  us. 

"  At  last  I  got  to  making  love  to  her,  and 
tilling  her  she  was  too  swaat  a  being  to 
be  living  all  alone  by  hersilf  jist,  and  that 
if  her  poor  parints  should  be  taken  away 
like  mine  was,  and  she  become  a  poor  or- 
phan like  mesilf,  what  would  she  be  afthei* 
doing  for  a  protector,  and  all  thim  things. 
She  cried,  she  did,  and  she  sez: 

"  '  Teddy,'  sez  she,  *  what  would  become 
o'  mel' 

"  '  It's  not  knowing,'  I  sez, '  and  it's  a 
mighty  har-r-d  thing  to  go  by  guess  work 
on  sich  occasions.' 

"  At  that  she  cried  the  more,  by  token 
her  inner  faalings  was  touched,  and  axed 


46 


LENI-LEOTI: 


me  would  I  conthrive  a  way  to  git  her  out 
o'  her  throubles. 

" '  Ah,  faith,'  sez  I,  all  of  a  sudden, '  I 
have  it  now!' 

"  '  What  is  it,  Teddy,  dear?'  sez  she.       ; 

"  '  Och!  come  to  your  Teddy's  arms,  and 
he'll  be  father,  and  mother,  and  victuals 
and  dhrink  to  yees,  my  own  swaat  Kath- 
leen!' I  sez." 

"  Aha!"  interrupted  the  excited  French- 
man, "dat  vas  von  ver  nice  bon  exsallent 
coup  de  grace,  eh!  Certainment,  je  le 
crois." 

"  Ah,  the  darling!"  pursued  Teddy — 
"  blissings  on  her  sowl,  be  it  where  it  will, 
and  pace  to  her  ashes,  if  she's  dead,  which 
T'm  not  knowing,  and  hoping  conthrawise 
— she  fill  right  into  me  arms,  and  com- 
minced  crying  jist  like  wather  dripping 
through  a  seive.  And  thin,  ye  sae,  I  cried 
too,  more  by  token  o'  saaing  her  cry,  nor 
that  I  felt  bad  like  at  all,  jist.  Will,  I 
wiped  me  eyes  wid  me  sleeve,  and  had  jist 
begun  to  say  comfortable  things  to  her, 
whin  who  should  happen  along  but  the 
ould  chap  of  a  praast,  her  uncle! 

"'Och,  ye  spalpeen!  and  what  is  it 
ye're  at  there,  ye  villain!'  sez  he. 

"At  this  Kathleen  give  a  awful  scraam, 
and  rin  for  the  house,  laving  me  alone  to 
fight  the  ould  tiger-cat  as  best  I  could.  I 
filt  mighty  small  jist  thin,  ye'd  bether  be- 
lave,  and  wished  wid  all  me  heart  an  arth- 
quake  would  open  and  swaller  the  pair  of 
us.  I  saan  the  praast  was  in  a  dangerous 
timper,  and  I  knowed  something  was  com- 
ing, asy  as  squaaling  to  a  pig.  But  I'll 
not  provoke  his  riverince,  I  sez  to  mesilf, 
or  he'll  jist  murther  me  outright,  widout 
judge  or  jury. 

" '  Who  are  ye!'  sez  he,  coming  up  and 
taking  me  by  the  collar  of  me  coat,  bai*- 
rlng  that  me  coat  had  no  collar,  and  I 
stood  in  me  shirt  sleeves,  jist.  '  Who  are 
ye]'  sez  he;  and  thin  he  shook  me  till  me 
teeth  rattled. 

'"  I'm  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  your  riverince, 
sez  I. 

"  '  Ye're  a  baastly  dog!'  sez  he. 

"  '  Troth!  and  so  was  me  father  before 
me,' sez  I,'and  hisn  before  that,' — fori 
wanted  to  plaze  him. 


"'  That  comes  by  nather,'  sez  I. 

" '  Ye're  a  scoundrel — a  villain — a  maan, 
contimptible  spalpeen!'  sez  he. 

"  'Sure,a,nd  that  comes  by  associations," 
sez  I. 

"  At  this  Father  Murphy  got  as  rid  in 
the  face  as  a  baat,  and  'pon  me  sowl  I 
thought  he  would  swaller  me  widout  cook- 
ing or  buther. 

"  '  What  was  yees  doing  here  wid  Kath- 
leen?' se7  he. 

'"  Lot'ing  her,  your  riverince,'  sez  I. 

" '  And  how  dare  you  love  sich  as  shel' 
sez  he. 

"'  Troth!  and  I'm  thinking  her  as  good 
as  mesilf,  your  riverince,'  I  sez. 

"  Atthat  I  thought  the  ould  praast  would 
choke  himsilf,  he  held  his  grip  so  tight  up- 
on his  own  throat.  Jabers!  but  it  was  re- 
joicing, I  was,  that  it  wasn't  mesilf's  he 
fingered  that  ways. 

" '  Teddy,'  sez  he,  afther  a  bit,  and  spak- 
ing  more  calm  like,  though  I  knowed  the 
divil  was  beiiind  it  all:  '  Teddy,  I'm  going 
to  have  yees  whipped  to  death,  and  thin 
sint  away  for  a  baastly  vagabone,  to  arn 
yees  own  living  in  the  cowld  world,'  sez  he. 

"'Jist  as  plases  your  riverince,'  sez  I. 
'  But  sure,  ye'U  be  afther  knowing  I've 
done  many  worse  thing  than  love  the 
swaat  Kathleen,  blissings  on  her  sowl!' 

"  '  And  do  ye  raaly  love  her?'  sez  he,  in 
a  softher  voice. 

'"  Och,  your  riverince,  and  is  it  mesilf 
as  loves  good  aetables,  now!' 

"  '  Will,  thin,'  sez  he,  '  for  the  sake  of 
me  niece,  as  is  the  apple  o'  me  eye,  I'll 
pardon  yees,  oh  one  condition.' 

"  '  And,  sure,  what  might  that  be,  your 
riverince!'  sez  I. 

" '  That  ye'll  lave  the  counthry,  and  niv- 
er  come  into  it  agin,'  sez  he. 

"  '  What,'  sez  I,  faaling  me  anger  rising, 
'  and  lave  darling  Kathleen  all  alone  by 
hersilf,  widout  a  protector!  Be  jabers! 
Father  Murphy,  it's  me  own  mother's  son 
as  'ud  sae  me  own  head  cut  ofi'  first,  and 
thin  I  wouldn't.' 

'•'  '  What,'  sez  he,  gitting  his  dander  riz 
agin, '  and  does  ye  dare  to  talk  that  ways 
to  me,  a  praast  of  the  gospel,  and  I  as  has 
raised  ye  from  poverty  to  be  me  own  sar- 
ving  man,  and  gin  ye  the  bist  of  ivery 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


47 


thing  as  was  lift  whin  we'd  all  aeten,  and 
the  pigs  had  done]  Say  that  to  me  face, 
as  has  been  a  father  to  yees,  ye  ungrateful 
varlet?  I'll  have  ye  horse-whipped  out  of 
town,  so  I  will!' 

" '  And  if  ye  does,'  sez  I,  '  I'll  staal 
around  and  rin  off  wid  Kathleen,  as  sure's 
me  name's  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  and  Dennis 
O'Lagherty  was  me  father' — which  wasn't 
so  sure,  d'ye  mind!  but  the  praast  didn't 
know  that. 

"  This  put  Father  Murphy  tothinkirg 
agfin,  and  afther  a  bit  he  sez,  quite  amiable 
like: 

"  '  And  sure,  ye  wouldn't  be  afther  doing 
that,  now,  to  one  as  has  trated  ye  iver 
wid  sich  respict,  Misther  O'Lagherty]' 
sez  he. 

"  Howly  murther!  thinks  I,  what's  com- 
ing now!  Ayther  a  mighty  stor-r-m,  or 
sunshine  sure — for  I'd  niver  hearn  the 
praast  spaak  that  ways  afore. 

" '  Misther  O'Lagherty,'  sez  the  praast 
agin, '  I  love  ye.' 

"'Faith!  sez  I,  'and  it's  glad  I  am  to 
hear  the  likes,  more  by  raason  ye  niver 
showed  the  faaling  at  all,  at  all.' 

'"  Will,  ye  think  of  gitting  Kathleen — 
but  it's  all  in  your  eye,'  sez  he.  '  She 
don't  care  for  ye,  me  son!' 

"  '  That's  a  lie,'  sez  I,  '  begging  your 
riverince's  pardon  for  spaaking  plain  Ing- 
lish!' 

"  Father  Murphy  bit  his  lips,  and  his 
two  eyes  looked  jist  like  fire-balls,  they 
did. 

"'Will,'  sez  he,  sez  Father  Murphy, 
'  we'll  jist  let  that  pass;  but  she  can  niver 
be  yourn,  Teddy,  by  raason  of  her  being 
bar 'lined  to  another.' 

"  '  That  alters  the  case,'  sez  I. 

" '  It  does,'  sez  he.  '  Now  ye  sae,  m.e 
son,  ye  can't  make  nothing  by  staying 
round  here — not  a  bit  of  it — and  as  I  maan 
to  do  the  gintaal  by  yees,  I'd  like  to  be 
knowing  what  ye'd  ax  to  lave  the  coun- 
thry,  and  have  the  money  down?' 

"  'And,  sure,  where'd  I  go]'  sez  I. 

"  'To  Amirica,'  sez  he. 

"  Will,  I'd  al'ays  heerd  of  Amirica — 
and  what  a  blissed  counthry  it  was  for  lib- 
erty, ladies  and  poor  folks — and  the  notion 
plazed  me;  and  besides,  I  knowed  what 


the  praast  said  about  my  niver  gitting 
Kathleen  was  thrue.  So  I  thinks  it  over 
a  wee  bit,  and  sez: 

"  '  Why,  Father  Murphy,'  sez  I, '  saaing 
it's  you,  and  you're  a  praast  too,  and  agin- 
tleman  I  respict,  (I  had  to  lie  a  little, 
d'ye  mind!)  I'll  go  if  ye'll  give  me  dacent 
clothes,  pay  me  passage  out,  and  five 
pounds  to  dhrink  your  riverince's  health.' 

"  He  wanted  to  baat  me  down,  but  I 
saan  I  had  him,  and  I  swore  divil  a  step 
would  I  stir  widout  he'd  do  me  axing.  At 
last  sez  he: 

"'Teddy,  I'll  do  it,  if  ye'll  agree  to 
start  right  off,  and  niver  sae  Kathleen 
agin — otherwise  I  won't.' 

"  '  It's  har-r-rd,  so  it  is,'  sez  I;  but  I  was 
afeard  he'd  back  out  if  I  didn't  accept 
soon,  and  so  I  tovvld  him,  '  It's  a  bargin, 
your  riverince.' 

"  '  Stay  a  minuet,  thin,'  sez  he;  and  he 
rin  into  the  house  and  brought  me  out 
five  sovereigns.  '  These'll  pay  ivery 
thing,'  sez  he:  '  and  so  lave,  now,  and  niv- 
er show  your  dirthy  face  here  agin,  or  I'll 
have  you  up  for  staaling.' 

"  '  Troth!'  sez  I,  faaling  like  a  lord,  wid 
me  hands  on  the  goold, '  it's  not  throubled 
v/id  me  ye'll  be  agin  soon.  The  top  o'  the 
morning  to  your  riverince!'  and  so  I  left 
him. 

"  Will,  to  wind  up,  I  come'd  to  Amiri- 
ca, and  spint  all  me  fortune,  and  thin  wint 
to  work  and  earned  more  money,  and  thin 
wint  travelling  to  sae  what  I  could  find, 
whin,  blissings  on  me  luck!  (turning  to 
me")  I  fill  into  your  honor's  sarvice,  for 
which  good  bit  of  accident  howly  Mary  be 
thanked!     That's  me  story." 

At  the  moment  Teddy  concluded,  and 
ere  a  single  comment  or  remarK  had  esca- 
ped our  lips,  a  frightful  volley  of  musket 
balls  flew  round  us  like  bail,  and  one  of  our 
party,  springing  up  with  a  yell,  fell  back 
a  corpse. 


48 


LENI-LEOTI: 


CHAPTER  IX. 

KTN  FOR  COVER — A  REMARKABLE  VOLLEY 

ASSAIL    THE    FOE WONDERFUL    SUCCESS 

— BLOODY  TROPHIES — FRIGHT  OF  OUR 
ANI.MALS — A  DILEMMA — UNEXPECTED  RE- 
INFORCEMENT  ALARM,  ROUT,  AND  AL- 
MOST TOTAL  ANNIHILATION  OF  THE  IN- 
DIANS  THE  WONDERFUL  HORSEMAN AN 

OLD  ACQUAINTANCE — SPOILS  OF  THE  VIC- 
TORS  ANIMALS  RECOVERED — ROUND  THE 

CAMP  FIRE — MORE  TIDINGS  OF  PRAIRIE 
FLOWER,  ETC.,  ETC. 

"  Indioins/'  was  the  simultaneous  cry 
which  burst  from  our  lips,  as  each  man 
grasped  his  rifle  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Tree,  boys/'  cried  Black  George,  just 
as  a  series  of  terrific  yells  resounded  on 
all  sides,  and  a  host  of  dusky  figures  were 
seen  bearing  down  upon  us  from  every 
direction  but  one,  tvhich  seemed  providen- 
tially left  open  for  our  safety.  Toward 
this,  the  only  point  of  compass  possible  for 
us  to  escape  without  a  personal  conflict, 
we  fled  precipitately,  and  soon  reached  a 
small  clump  of  trees,  which  aflored  us  im- 
mediate protection,  leaving  our  dead  com- 
rade in  possession  of  the  savages.  With 
a  shout  of  triumph,  a  dozen  of  the  latter 
rushed  up  to  the  unfortunate  trapper,  and 
one  of  the  number  instantly  tore  off"  his 
scalp,  while  several  others  buned  their 
knives  in  his  body  to  make  sure  of  their 
victim. 

Meantime  the  rest  of  the  party,  which 
consisted  of  some  thirty  in  all,  made  for 
our  retreat,  uttering  demoniac  yells  of 
barbarous  exultation,  doubtless  fancying 
us  an  easy  prey. 

"  Now,  boys,"  cried  Black  George,  in  a 
stentorian  voice,  "  every  man  pick  a  nig- 
ger, and  give  the skunks  h !" 

His  advice  did  not  need  a  repetition;  for 
scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth, 
when  crack  went  our  six  rifles,  and,  almost 
miraculous  to  record,  six  of  the  foremost 
assailants  rolled  howling  in  the  dust — 
each  man,  by  a  friendly  providence,  hav- 
ing selected  a  separate  target  with  a  fatal 
aim.  This  was  a  result  as  unlocked  for 
by  us,  as  alarming  to  our  foes,  who  sud- 
denly halted  and  rent  the  air   with  howls 


of  rage  and  dismay.  While  it  staggered 
them,  it  gave  us  courage,  and  in  the  mo- 
ment of  their  indecision  and  our  triumph, 
the  voice  of  Black  George  was  heard 
shouting  the  inspiring  words: 

"  Well  done,  boys!  FoUer  me,  and  let 
us  bark  our  pups  and  butcher  at  close 
quarters!" 

Saying  this,  he  sprang  forward  with  a 
yell,  a  proceeding  we  all  imitated,  and  be- 
fore the  ast(Jnished  savages  were  fully 
aware  what  was  taking  place,  they  found 
us  in  their  midst,  shouting,  shooting,  and 
cutting,  with  a  daring,  activity  and  feroci- 
ty they  had  probably  never  seen  equalled. 
So  suddenly  had  we  become  assailants  in 
turn,  and  so  vigorously  did  we  press  upon 
them,  that  they  instantly  wavered,  be- 
came confused,  and  after  a  slight  resis- 
tance, took  to  flight,  leaving  four  more  of 
their  number  companions  to  the  first  un- 
fortunate six.  Being  all  more  or  less  ex- 
perieaced  in  Indian  warfare,  we  were  con' 
sequently  wise  enough  not  to  follow  them, 
well  knowing  they  would  return  to  the 
charge  as  soon  as  pressed  into  cover.  Both 
of  Black  George's  companions  had  been 
wounded  in  the  ?nefee,  but  not  dangerous- 
ly, and  we  now  congratulated  ourselves, 
with  a  triumphant  shout,  on  our   success. 

"  Reckon  they'll  stay  put  till  we  ken 
butcher  and  raise  these  here  dog's  hair," 
said  the  old  trapper;  and  forthwith  all  set 
to  work,  save  myself,  in  killing  the  woun- 
ded and  scalping  the  slain.  When  this 
bloody  business  was  over.  Black  George 
observed: 

"This  heyar  coon  wonders  how  the  nig- 
gers feels  now!  Maybe  they've  got  a  no- 
tion in  thar  heads  that  we're  some  in  a 
bar-fight.  Sarved  'em  right,  the ^-  pos- 
sums! What  business'd  they  to  be  pitch- 
ing into  us,  when  we  was  tellin  stories  and 
troublin  nobody.     Augh!" 

"  By  gar!  I  tink  so,"  added  the  French- 
man, as  he  gave  his  olfactoiy  organ  an 
extra  dose,  and  his  shoulders  an  unusually 
vigorous  shug.  "  Ha,  ha.  Monsieur  Blake 
Shorge — you  say  ver  moche  true,  sarve 
him  right.  Certainment,  be  got  von 
most  tam  ver  good  exsallent — vot  you  call 
him — drubbing,  eh  !  Ha,  ha  !  certain- 
ment." 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


49 


•'  Och,  now,   but    didn't  the  blaggards    We  could  not  charge  upon  the  savages  as 


look  a  wee  bit  astonished,  the  spalpeens!" 
joined  in  Teddy.  "  Faith!  but  I  thought 
whin  they  rin,  maybe  as  it  was  a  race  they 
was  rinning  for  whisky  or  the  likes." 

•'  Well,"  said  I,  '•  we  have  been  fortun- 
ate so  far,  that  is  certain;  and  now  let  us 
take  care  for  the  future.  Load  quick,  my 
friends,  and  let  us  bring  our  animals  to- 
gether, or  the  Indians  may  rally  and  dash 
upon  them,  and  leave  us  in  a  bad  condi- 
tion." 

"  Right,  boy,"  cried  Black  George,  with 
a  start:  "  I'd  forgot.  What  a  old  fool  I  is 
sometimes.  Quick'  or  the  skunks  will 
head  us — for  I  knows  'em  of  old." 

Fortunately  for  us,  the  Indians  had  not 
as  yet  made  a  seizure  of  our  horses, 
(which,  at  the  time  of  the  attack,  were 
quietly  feeding  in  the  valley,  but  now 
running  to  and  fro  and  snufling  the  air,) 
thinking,  I  suppose,  that  victory  for  them 
was  certain,  and  well  knowing  that  an  at- 
tempt to  take  the  animals  first,  would  cre- 
ate an  alarm,  and  perhaps  defeat  their  de- 
sign of  making  us  their  victims.  Our  pos- 
sibles, too,  had  escaped  them,  probably 
from  being  concealed  under  the  brushwood 
collected  for  our  fire,  and  also  from  their 
being  put  to  flight  so  suddenly.  AH  these 
were  certainly  matters  for  congratulation; 
and  hurriedly  removing  our  property  from 
out  the  fire-light,  I  ordered  Teddy  and 
Pierre  to  guard  it  with  their  lives,  while 
the  rest  of  us,  having  reloaded  our  rifles, 
set  off  to  collect  our  animals. 

We  had  not  been  any  too  soon  in  this 
matter;  for  the  Indians,  having  recover- 
ed from  their  first  alarm  and  confusion, 
we  now  espied  dodging  from  tree  to  tree, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  getting  be- 
tween us  and  the  beasts,  and  so  capturing 
the  latter. 

"  Heyar's  afi.x,"  observed  Black  George, 
making  a  halt.  "  Ef  we  go  for'ard,  the 
cussed  varmints  will  pick  us  off  and  make 
meat  on  us;  and  sf  we  stay  here-a-ways, 
they'll  catch  our  critters  and  leave  us  to 
foot  it.  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it  don't  look 
like  a  dilemmer,  as  I  hearn  a  scholard  say 
onc't — that's  a  fact." 

It  was  a  dilemma,  sure  enough,  and  how 
to  act  was  a  matter  of  great  moment. — 


we  had  done  before,  for  they  had  "  treed'^ 
in  every  direction,  and,  as  Black  George 
observed,  would  be  sure  to  pick  us  off 
singly.  To  lose  our  cavallada  was  not  ta 
be  thought  of,  for  this  would  in  a  measure 
place  us  in  their  power.  What  was  to  be 
done!  Several  propositions  were  made 
by  one  and  another,  but  all  as  soon  reject' 
ed  as  being  impracticable. 

Meantime  the  Indians  were  not  inac- 
tive, and  though  the  night  was  without 
moon,  we  could  occasionally  perceive  a 
figure  flitting  before  us  like  a  shadow,  and' 
the  circle  they  had  made  around  our  horses 
gradually  narrowing.  It  was  a  time 
for  action  of  some  kind,  and  yet  we 
stood  irresolute.  At  length  the  old  trap- 
per suggested  that  we  should  separate, 
and  each  shift  for  himself  in  the  manner 
best  calculated  to  annoy  our  foes.  This 
was  the  best  plan  as  yet  proposed,  and 
was  instantly  adopted.  We  had  already 
begun  to  put  it  in  execution,  when,  to  our 
astonishment,  a  small  body  of  horsemen, 
with  loud  yells,  suddenly  dashed  out  from 
a  distant  thicket,  and  separating,  bore 
down  upon  the  rear  of  our  enemies.  The 
next  moment  we  heard  the  sharp  crack  of 
fire-arms,  mingled  with  the  shouts  of  the 
assailants,  and  yells  of  terror  from  the  sur- 
prised Indians,  who  instantly  took  to  flight 
in  all  directions.  In  their  confusion,  a  por- 
tion ran  towards  us,  and  were  received  by 
a  well  directed  volley,  which  wounded  one, 
killed  two,  and  increased  the  alarm  of  the 
survivors,  who  instantly  changed  their 
cjurse  and  fled  toward  the  western  hills, 
only  to  find  their  flight  intercepted  by  an 
occasional  horseman. 

"  Don't  know  who  fights  for  us,"  cried 
Black  George,  "and  don't  care  a  kick — but 
know  they 's  some — and  so  let's  arter  and 

disconflumicate  the  skunks   all  we 

ken." 

Saying  this,  the  trapper  set  forward  in 
eager  chase  of  the  flying  foe,  an  example 
we  all  followed,  and  for  the  next  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  valley  presented  an  indis- 
cribable  scene  ^of  confusion  and  excite- 
ment. Nothing  of  life  could  be  seen  but 
flying  fugitives,  hotly  pursued  by  a  bitter 
enemy,    whose  only  mercy   was    instant 


50 


LENI-LEOTI: 


death;  and  nothinc  heard  but  shrieks,] 
yells,  groans  and  shuuts  of  triumph — these 
from  victors,  those  from  vanquished — to- 
gether with  the  constant  sharp  crack  of 
fire-arms,  and  the  clashing  of  knives,  as 
here  and  there  two  met  in  personal  and 
deadly  conflict.  To  use  a  military  phrase, 
the  rout  was  total,  the  enemy  badly  beat- 
en, and  the  victorious  skirmishers  only 
withdrew  from  the  field  of  conflict  for 
want  of  a  foe. 

During  the  melee,  we  had  all  become 
mixed  up,  and  but  for  the  distinguishing 
difference  of  color  and  equipments,  we 
might,  owing  to  the  darkness,  have  made 
sad  havoc  with  our  best  friends.  But  the 
new  comers  were  whites,  and  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  distinguishing  between 
them  and  the  savages.  But  who  were 
they,  and  how  came  they  here  so  oppor- 
tunely for  us,  were  enigmas  I  had  no 
time  nor  opportunity  to  solve  till  the  af- 
fray was  over.  Whoever  they  were,  they 
were  brave  to  a  fault — if  I  may  call  that 
courage  a  fault  which  is  reckless  of  self- 
preservation — and  they  fought  like  demons. 
One  of  their  party,  whom  I  took  to  be  lead- 
er, displayed  an  agility,  intrepidity  and 
fierceness  I  had  never  seen  equaled  but 
once.  Mounted  on  a  fiery  steed,  which 
seemed  to  comprehend  his  slightest  wish, 
he  rushed  among  the  frightened  savages, 
and  tv/ice,  as  he  passed  near  me,  did  I  ob- 
serve him  bend  from  his  saddle',  seize  the 
Bcalp-lock  of  an  Indian,  stab  him  in  the 
neck,  and  then,  with  a  motion  quick  as 
thought,  cut  around  and  tear  off  the  bloody 
scalp,  without  scarcely  checking  the  speed 
of  his  horse. 

Already  I  fancy  I  see  the  reader  smile, 
and  say  such  feats  are  impossible.  I  do 
not  blame  him;  for  had  I  not  seen  them 
myself,  I  should  require  more  than  one 
person's  evidence  to  convince  me  of  their 
possibility,  to  say  nothing  more. 

A  long,  loud  shout  at  last  attested  our 
complete  victory,  when  I,  in  company  with 
my  companions,  approached  our  deliver- 
ers, to  return  our  sincere  thanks  for  their 
timely  aid.  Moving  up  to  the  personage 
I  supposed  to  be  leader,  who  now  sat 
quietly  on  his  horse,  surrounded  by  a  doz- 
en stalwart  figures,  all  mounted,  I  said: — 


"  Whom  have  I  the  honor  to  thank  for 
this  invaluable  assistance,  at  a  point  of 
time  so  critical  to  usl" 

"  Why,  as  to  thanks,"  answered  the  one 
addressed,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  familiar 
to  me,  "  I  don't  'spect  thar's  any  needed; 
but  ef  you  thank  any  body,  thank  all — for 
every  man's  done  his  duty,  and  nothing 
more." 

"Methinks,  sir,  I  know  your  voice,"  I 
rejoined,  "  but  I  cannot  see  your  fea- 
tures." 

"  Well,  it  struck  me  as  Fd  heard  your's 
afore,"  returned  the  intrepid  horseman; 
and  he  bent  forward  in  his  saddle,  for  a 
closer  scrutiny  of  my  person. 

At  this  moment  Black  George  came  up, 
and  casting  one  glance  at  the  speaker, 
exclaimed: 

"  Kit  Carson,  or  I'm  a  nigger!  Reckon 
you  knows  old  Black  George,  don't  ye?" 
and  in  an  instant  the  two  were  shaking 
hands  with  the  hearty  familiarity  of  old 
friends. 

"Kit  Carson!"  cried  I,  in  surprise. 
"  Well,  sir,"  I  might  have  known  it  was 
you,  from  your  manner  of  fighting;"  and 
in  turn  I  seized  his  hand  with  one  of  my 
strongest  grips, 

"  You  have  a  leetle  the  advantage  of 
me,"  said  Kit,  when  1  had  done. 

"  I  presume  you  have  not  forgotten 
Frank  Leighton,  and  the  fight  at  Bitter 
Cottonwood'!"  I  replied. 

"  Good  heavens!  is  it  indeed  you)  Why, 
I  thought  you  war  rubbed  out  thar,  and 
I've  never  heard  any  thing  of  you  sence. 
I'm  glad  to  see  you,  sir;"  and  an  extra  grip 
and  shake  of  the  hand,  convinced  me  he 
meantwhat  hesaid.  "I'll  have  a  talk  with 
you,  by-and-b)'^;  but  just  now  we  mountain 
men  hev  got  a  right  smart  chance  at 
scalping — arter  which  I'm  at  your  ser- 
vice." 

Wiiile  most  were  occupied  in  the  bar- 
barous practice  (I  can  never  call  it  by  a 
milder  term.)  of  scalping  the  slain,  I  call- 
ed Teddy,  Pierre,  and  one  or  two  others 
to  my  aid,  and  proceeded  to  collect  and 
picket  the  frightened  animals.  This  was 
no  easy  task,  and  it  was  at  least  an  hour 
before  order  and  quiet  were  again  restor- 
ed.     In  the  meantime  the  Indians  were 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


51 


scalped,  and  rifled  of  every  thing  valuable, 
and  then  left  to  feed  the  vi'olves,  some  of 
which  had  already  begun  their  feast,  and 
were  fast  being  joined  by  others.  Of  the 
slain,  we  counted  in  all  twenty-three  car- 
casses; so  that  it  was  evident  but  few,  per- 
haps only  five  or  six,  escaped — and  these, 
doubtless,  more  or  less  wounded.  Of  my 
party,  not  one  was  injured  in  this  last  af- 
fray; but  several  of  the  horsemen  had  re- 
ceived cuts  and  stabs,  though  none  of  a 
dangerous  character.  When  we  had  all 
collected  around  the  camp-fire,  the  wound- 
ed were  looked  to,  and  their  wounds  dress- 
ed as  well  as  circumstances  would  allow. 
This  done,  we  proceeded  to  bury  the 
mountaineer,  who  had  been  killed,  as  the 
reader  will  remember,  at  the  onset.  As 
soon  as  all  these  matters  were  arranged, 
we  squatted  dovv-^n  in  a  circle  round  the 
fire,  to  talk  over  the  events  of  the  last  two 
hours. 

I  now  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing 
with  Carson,  which  I  eagerly  embraced. 
I  informed  him,  in  brief,  of  all  that  had  oc- 
curred since  we  last  met,  and  listened  to  a 
hasty  recital  of  hi-s  own  adventures,  the 
principal  part  of  which  referred  to  Fre- 
mont's first  expedition,  and  is  already  be- 
fore the  public.  He  said,  that  after  part- 
ing with  Fremont,  he  had  been  engaged 
to  conduct  a  party  to  California,  and  was 
on  his  return  to  St.  Louis,  by  way  of  Uin- 
tah Fort,  St.  Vrains,  and  Fort  Laramie, 
when,  stopping  at  the  first  mentioned,  he 
found  the  presentparty  of  adventurei's  anx- 
ious to  obtain  a  guide  to  Taos,  and  thence 
to  Santa  Fe,  and  that  they  had  induced 
him  to  accompany  them  as  far  as  Taos. 
He  said  that  they  had  been  on  our  trail 
for  some  time,  but  had  not  come  in  sight 
of  us,  until  the  present  evening,  when, 
camping  just  the  other  side  of  one  of  the 
surrounding  hills,  he,  in  a  short  ramble, 
had  accidentally  discovered  our  camp-fire, 
and  had  determined  on  joining  us  in  the 
morning.  The  attack  on  us  by  the  In- 
dians had  been  heard,  and  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, thereafter,  the  whole  party  had  come 
to  our  aid,  with  what  result  the  reader 
knows. 

He  further  added,  it  was  rumored  that  Fre- 
mont had  begun  his  second  expedition,  and 


was  even  now  on  his  route  westward  by  way 
of  Bent's  Fort — that  he  was  anxious  to 
join  him — and  that  if  an  arrangement  could 
be  effected  to  do  without  him,  he  would  in 
the  morning  cross  over  to  the  valley  of 
the  Arkansas,  and  take  a  direct  course  for 
Bent's. 

In  answer  to  my  inquiries  concerning 
Prairie  Flower  and  her  tribe,  he  said  he 
had  not  met  with  any  of  them  since  the 
battle  of  Bitter  Cottonwood;  but  that  he 
had  heard  of  their  being  in  this  part  of  the 
country  quite  recently,  and  was  inclined  to 
believe  them  somewhere  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Taos  at  the  present  time.  With 
regard  to  my  friend,  he  expressed  much 
sorrow  for  his  loss,  but  could  give  me  no 
information  concerning  him. 

I  was  now  more  than  ever  anxious  to 
find  the  Mysterious  Tribe;  for  something 
whispered  me  that  Prairie  Flower  had 
been  in  search  of  my  friend — or  at  least 
was  now  with  her  tribe  on  that  errand — 
or,  if  neither  of  these  surmises  should 
prove  correct,  I  could  perhaps  prevail  upon 
them  to  assist  me.  At  all  events,  I  deter- 
mined on  finding  them  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  accordingly  resolved  to  start  at  day- 
light, and  push  through  to  Taos  with  all 
haste. 

Busy  thought  prevented  me  from  sleep- 
ing that  eventful  night,  and  at  the  first 
tinge  of  morning  light  I  awoke  my  com- 
panions for  the  journey.  As  we  all  had 
one  destination,  the  party  of  Carson  con- 
sented to  part  with  him  and  join  mine; 
and  shaking  my  hand,  v/ith  a  hearty  prayer 
for  my  success,  he  set  oif  alone  over  the 
mountains,  while  we  continued  down  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Grande. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ARRIVE  AT  TAOS — DISAPPOINTMENT — A  SIN- 
GULAR CHARACTER — JOYFUL  TIDINGS — 
SOUTHWARD  BOUND — SANTA  FE ADDI- 
TIONAL  NEWS — ON  THE  RIGHT    COUKSE 

PERPLEXITY — ALL     RIGHT — TRIUMPHANT 
SUCCESS — RETURN  TO  THE  NORTH. 

As  our  party  was  now  quite  formidable, 
we  had  no  fears  of  again  being  attacked, 


52 


LENI-LEOTI: 


so  long  as  we  remained  together.  On  the 
fourth  day  from  quitting  the  valley  de- 
Bcribed  in  the  previous  chapter,  we  enter- 
ed the  small  village  of  Taos.  Here  I 
found  a  melange  of  all  nations  and  colors, 
consisting  of  trappers,  hunters,  traders, 
adventurers,  &c. 

Mingling  vvitli  all  classes,!  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  make  inquiries  regarding  the 
present  whereabouts  of  the  Great  Medi- 
cine Tribe,  and  also  if  any  had  seen  or 
heard  of  a  certain  young  man  (giving  a 
full  description  of  Huntly)  being  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Indians  or  Mexicans.  To 
my  first  inquiry,  I  received  from  several 
the  answer,  that  a  singular  tribe  of  In- 
dians, among  whom  was  a  beautiful  fe- 
male, had  been  seen  in  the  vicinity  within 
a  few  weeks;  but  where  they  now  were, 
or  in  what  direction,  none  could  tell.  As 
to  the  latter,  each  replied  with  a  shake  of 
the  head,  that  he  could  tell  me  nothing. 
It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing,  they  in- 
formed me,  for  a  white  man — an  adven- 
turer— to  be  taken,  robbed,  held  for  ran- 
som, knocked  on  the  head,  or  sold  into 
slavery;  but  no  one  remembered  hearing 
of,  or  seeing  such  as  I  had  described. 

To  me  this  news  produced  great  disap- 
pointment; for,  from  some  cause  which  I 
can  not  explain,  I  had  been  sanguine  of 
getting  information  of  Huntly  so  soon  as 
I  should  arrive  at  Taos.  Here,  then,  was 
a  complete  overthrow  of  my  most  ardent 
hopes!  and  I  now  felt  keenly  the  sandiness 
of  the  foundation  on  which  I  had  reared  my 
expectations.  I  might  pass  a  long  life  in 
a  wearisome  and  dangerous  search,  and 
be  no  wiser  of  Huntly's  fate  at  last. — ■ 
There  was  still  a  faint  hope  that  Prairie 
Flower,  who  I  doubted  not  had  gone  south 
with  her  tribe  for  this  purpose,  had  gained 
some  information  of  him;  and  at  once  I 
determined  to  hunt  her  out,  with  the  addi- 
tional resolve,  that  should  my  surmises 
prove  correct,  and  she  had  failed  also,  to 
set  out  on  my  return  forthwith.  But  whei'e 
should  I  begin  to  look  for  her,  was  the  next 
question.  She  might  be  as  difficult  to 
find  as  Huntly,  and  there  was  no  certainty 
of  my  ever  seeing  either  again. 

The  day  following  my  arrival  in  Taos,  I 
was  passing  along  one  of  the  streets,  pon- 


dering upon  these  matters,  when  I  chanced 
to  meet  an  old  mountaineer,  whom  I  did 
not  remember  having  seen  before.  De- 
termined to  leave  no  stone  unturned,  I  ac- 
costed him  with  the  same  inquiry  I  had 
made  of  the  others.  He  stopped,  looked 
at  me  attentively  a  moment,  as  if  to  com- 
prehend my  questions,  and  then  in  a  mu- 
sing, half  solilloquising  manner,  replied: 

"  'Bout  the  Injins,  don't  know — think 
I've  seed  such — won't  be  sartin — don't 
like  to  be  sartita  when  I  aint.  Yes!  think 
I  hev  seed  'em — yes,  know  I  hev — but  it 

war  two  year  ago,  and  way  up  north  a ■ 

of  a  ways:  Fact.  'Bout  the  other  chapj 
don't  know; — yes — no — stop — let  me  see' 
— y-e-s,  I  reckon — aint  sartin — what  wa* 
he  like!" 

Here  I  proceeded  to  give  a  description 
of  my  friend,  with  what  conflicting  feel- 
ings of  hope  and  fear  I  leave  the  reader  to 
imagine.  In  fact,  my  voice  became  so 
tremulous,  that  several  times  I  was  forced 
to  stop  and  put  my  hand  to  my  throat,  to 
prevent,  as  it  were,  my  heart  from  strang- 
ling me. 

"  Git  cool,  and  jest  say  that  thar  over 
agin,"  rejoined  the  other,  when  at  length 
I  tremblingly  paused  for  his  answer. 

I  repeated  it  twice,  before  he  seemed 
satisfied. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  I'll  think — let  me 
see!"  and  he  deliberately  proceeded  to  take 
up  each  point  of  my  description,  and  ap- 
ply it  to  some  person  he  had  seen,  making 
his  own  comments  as  he  went  along. — 
"Slim  and  graceful — let  me  see! — yes — 
no — ye-a-s — ray  ther  reckon  he  was — know 
it — fact.  'Bout  twenty-three — stop — let 
me  think! — yes — reckon  he  might  be — 
know  he  was — sartin.  Good  face — han'- 
some  featurs — stop — a — y-e-s — know  it — 
settled." 

Thus  he  went  on  until  I  found  my  pa- 
tience completely  exhausted,  and  was 
about  to  interrupt  him,  when  he  suddenly 
exclaimed: 

"  Seen  him,  stranger — sartin  as  life — 
know  I  hev." 

"Where]  where!"  cried  I  breathlessly, 
grasping  his  hand. 

"  San  Domingo." 

"  Whenr' 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


53 


•"  'Bout  a  year  ago." 
•"  God  be  thanked!     You  are  surel" 
•"  Sartin,  or  I'd  never  said  it." 
"  Well,  well — what  became  of  him!" 
"  It's  more'Q  I  ken  say — 'spect  he  war 

made  a  slave.     A old  Greaser  had 

him,  and  wanted  to  sell  or  git  him  ransom- 
ed. He  axed  too  high,  and  nobody  traded. 
I  pitied  the  poor  feller,  but  I  hadn't  no 
money,  and  thar  warn't  no  Yankees  thar 
then  to  help  me  out  in  takin  him.  Old 
Greaser  went  sothe;  and  some  I  axed 
shuk  thar  heads,  and  said  that  that  old 
scamp  war  a  robber  chief,  and  had  lots  o' 
help  close  by.  All  I  know,  stranger." 
"  But  do  you  think  he  is  alive  now?" 
"  Can't  say,  ye  see,  'cause  don't  know. 
Never  say  what  don't  know.  Any  thing 
more  to  ax,  stranger]" 

"  Nothing  that  you  can  answer,"  I  re- 
plied; and  thanking  him  kindly  for  his  in- 
formation, I  placed  a  gold  coin  in  his  hand, 
and  hurriedly  left  him  to  seek  out  my  com- 
panions— my  spirits,  so  lately  depressed, 
now  buoyant  and  bounding. 

The  party  which  had  joined  mine  at  the 
valley,  had  not  yet  quitted  Taos;  and  call- 
ing all  together,  I  proceeded  to  lay  before 
them  my  joyful  intelligence.     When  I  had 


porium  of  the  northern  trade  between  New 
Mexico  and  Missouri.  However,  it  was 
any  thing  but  an  agreeable  place — its  in- 
habitants being  mostly  made  up  of  the  off- 
scourings of  the  earth — without  religion, 
morality,  or  any  other  noble  quality.  To 
gamble,  steal,  rob  and  murder,  were  among 
the  refined  amusements  of  this  most  wor- 
thy set.  To  make  matters  still  worse, 
there  had  recently  been  some  difficulty  be- 
tween the  Mexicans  and  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States,  and  on  both  sides  ex- 
isted a  bitter  hostility,  which  was  produc- 
tive of  the  most  violent  crimes.  It  was 
dangerous  for  any  one  to  traverse  the 
streets  alone,  particularly  after  nightfall;; 
for  at  every  corner  he  turned,  he  knew 
himself  in  danger  of  assasination.  The 
Indians  here  generally  sided  with  the 
Mexicans,  and  looked  upon  all  Yankees  as 
their  worst  enemies. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  at  Santa 
Fe  on  my  arrival;  end  the  same  inimical 
feeling,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  pre- 
vailed in  all  the  adjacent  towns.  As  my- 
self and  party  had  no  desire  to  quarrel 
with  any  one,  we  took  care  to  be  civil,  al- 
ways together,  well  armed,  and  to  mind 
our  own  business  on  all  occasions;  and  in 


done.  Black  George  gave  a  shout,  Teddy  a  j  consequence  we  fortunately  escaped  with- 
whoop,  Pierre  shrugged  his  shoulders  and   out  molestation. 

doubled  his  dose  of  snuff,  and  every  one  |      Making  several  inquiries  in  Santa  Fe, 
expressed  his  delight  in  his  own  peculiar  j  and  gaining  nothing  further  of  Huntlv  or 


way.  The  Rovers — so  our  new  com- 
panions termed  themselves — were  nearly 
all  young  men  from  the  States,  who  had 
come  west  more  for  adventure  than  specu- 
lation; and  as  I  had  become  a  favorite 
with  them  in  the  short  time  of  our  ac- 
quaintance, they  at  once  volunteered  me 
their  assistance,  an  offer  I  accepted  with 
tears  of  gratitude. 

Ordering  out  our  animals,  we  mounted 
and  set  forward  immediately,  and,  although 
the  day  was  partly  advanced,  succeeded  in 
reaching  Santa  Cruz  about  nightfall.  By 
noon  of  the  next  day  we  rode  into  Santa 
Fe — a  place  of  much  importance  and  no- 
toriety, from  being  centrally  located  on 
the  great  caravan  route  from  Missouri  to 
Southern  California.  At  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  Santa  Fe  contained  some  four  or 
five  thousand  inhabitants,  and  was  the  em- 


the  Mysterious  Tribe,  we  pursued  our 
course  southward  through  Cinega  to  Saa 
Domingo. 

Here  the  story  of  the  old  trapper  was 
so  far  confirmed,  that  several  persons  re- 
membered having  seen  the  notorious  rob- 
ber, Gonzalez,  in  possession  of  a  hand- 
some young  prisoner,  whom  he  was  anx^ 
ious  to  dispose  of,  declaring  he  could  not 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  kill  him,  and  could 
not  afford  to  part  with  him  without  recom- 
pense; that  no  one  there  being  disposed  to 
purchase  him,  he  had  gone  further  south; 
but  what  had  since  become  of  him,  none 
could  afford  me  any  information.  In  answer 
to  my  inquiry  concerning  Prairie  Flower, 
I  learned  that  some  time  ago  she  had  been 
seen  in  this  vicinity  with  her  tribe — that 
she  had  made  inquiries  similar  to  mine— v. 
and  that  all  had  departed  southward. 


54 


LENI-LEOTI: 


This  news  almost  made  rae  frantic  with  i 
joy.  Huntly,  I  argued,  was  living.  Prai- 
rie Flower,  like  some  kind  angel,  had  gone 
to  his  rescue;  and  it  might  be,  that  even 
now  he  was  free  and  enjoying  her  sweet 
companionship.  The  joyful  thought,  as  I 
said  but  now,  nearly  drove  me  mad  with 
excitement;  and  all  my  olden  hopes  were 
not  only  revived,  but  increased  by  faith  to 
certainties. 

Hurrying  forward  to  San  Bernilla  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  I  heard  nearly  the  same 
tale  as  at  San  Domingo;  and  following 
down  the  river  to  Torreon,  listened  to  its 
repetition — and  at  Valencia,  Nutrias  and 
Alamilla  likewise.  At  Valverde,  the  next 
village  below  the  last  mentioned,  I  could 
gain  no  intelligence  whatever.  This  led 
me  to  think  Gonzalez  had  disposed  of  his 
prisoner  between  the  two  villages — or, 
what  was  just  as  probable,  had  taken  an- 
other course.  For  what  I  knew,  he  might 
have  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  struck 
off  into  the  Sierra  de  los  Mimbres — a 
mountain  chain  only  a  few  miles  to  the 
west  of  us,  whose  lofty,  snow-covered 
peaks  rose  heavenward  to  a  vast  height, 
and  had  been  distinctly  visible  for  several 
days.  If  he  had  taken  this  direction,  the 
chances  of  tracing  him  successfully  ap- 
peared much  against  us.  It  was  equally 
as  probable,  too,  he  had  gone  eastward — 
perhaps  to  Tabira — a  small  village  some 
seventy  miles  distant.  Cut  which  course 
should  we  take]  Consulting  my  friends, 
we  at  length  resolved  to  retrace  our  steps 
to  Alamilla,  make  inquiries  of  all  we  might 
meet  on  the  way,  and  then,  if  we  could 
gain  no  satisfactory  information,  to  strike 
out  for  Tabira  on  a  venture. 

This  matter  settled,  we  at  once  turned 
back,  but  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  we 
met  a  couple  of  Mexican  hunters.  As  I 
understood  a  smattering  of  Spanish,  I  at 
once  addressed  them,  and,  in  roorse  of  con- 
versation, gained  the  joyful  tidings,  that 
a  prisoner,  such  a.s  I  descri!)0(1,  had  been 
purchased  by  a  Mexican,  living  not  more 
than  three  miles  distant,  and  that  in  all 
probability  we  should  find  him  there  now. 
The  path  to  his  residence  having  been 
pointed  out,  I  rewarded  each  of  my  in- 
formants with  a  gold  coin,  and  then  driv- 


ing the  spurs  into  our  horses,  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  we  reined  them  in  before  a 
small  hacienda,  much  to  the  terror  of  the 
inmates,  who  believed  we  had  come  to  rob 
and  murder  them.  Assuring  the  proprie- 
tor, a  rather  prepossessing  Mexican,  that 
in  case  he  gave  us  truthful  answers  no 
harm  should  be  done  him — but  that,  being 
partially  informed  already,  the  slightest 
prevarication  would  cost  him  his  tsngue 
and  ears,  if  not  his  head — I  proceeded  to 
question  him. 

Thus  forewarned,  and  much  in  fear  of 
the  execution  of  the  threat,  he  gave 
straight-forward  replies,  to  the  effect  that 
more  than  a  year  ago  Gonzalez  had  paid 
him  a  visit,  and  offered  him  an  American 
at  a  small  price,  declaring  that  if  he  did 
not  purchase,  he  would  knock  the  prisoner 
on  the  head  without  more  ado,  as  he  had 
cost  him  more  time  than  he  was  worth; 
that  at  first,  he  (the  proprietor  of  the  ha- 
cienda) had  refused  to  buy,  having  as  many 
slaves  as  he  cared  about;  but  that  some- 
thing in  the  young  man's  appearance,  and 
the  appeal  he  made  with  his  eye,  had 
touched  his  feelings,  and  the  bargain  had 
at  length  been  struck.  He  farther  stated, 
that  the  prisoner  had  not  been  treated  like 
the  rest  of  his  slaves,  but  with  more  re- 
spect, and  had  behaved  himself  like  a  gen- 
tleman and  won  his  confidence.  A  short 
time  ago,  he  continued,  a  small  tribe  of 
Indians  had  called  upon  him,  and  offered  a 
ransom  for  the  prisoner,  stating  he  was  an 
old  acquaintance;  that  he  had  accepted 
the  offer,  and  the  prisoner  had  departed 
with  them  toward  the  north,  in  fine  spirits. 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  informa- 
tion I  gathered  here;  but  it  was  enough  to 
intoxicate  me  with  joy,  and  was  received 
by  the  rest  of  the  party  with  three  hearty 
cheers,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
old  Mexican,  who  did  not  comprehend 
what  was  meant. 

The  prisoner  was  Huntly — there  was 
no  doubt  of  that — and  the  Great  I\Iedicine 
was  the  Indian  tribe  which  had  set  him 
free.  The  next  thing  was  to  go  in  quest 
of  them.  They  had  gone  toward  the  north, 
and  had  had  some  time  the  start  of  us.  It 
might  be  difficult  to  find  them — but  nothing, 
I  fancied,  in  comparison  with   the  task  I 


jor,  adventures  in  the  far  west. 


55 


had  first  undertaken  of  traciDg  out  my 
friend.  The  Rovers  agreed  to  accompany 
me  as  far  as  Santa  Cruz,  when,  after  having 
seen  me  so  far  safe,  they  designed  return- 
ing to  Santa  Fe. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  detail  each 
day's  journey.  Suffice,  that  in  due  time 
we  arrived  at  Santa  Cruz,  where  I  parted 
from  the  Rovers,  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  on  my  part,  and  heart-felt 
wishes  for  my  success  on  theirs.  My  par- 
ty was  thus  reduced  to  six;  and  as  two  of 
this  number  preferred  remaining  here  to 
going  north  immediately,  I  settled  with 
them  at  once,  still  retaining  Teddy,  Pierre 
and  Black  George. 

With  these  I  again  set  forward  rapidly, 
making  inquiries  of  all  I  met.  For  two 
or  three  days  I  could  get  no  tidings  of  the 
Mysterious  Tribe,  and  I  began  to  have 
doubts  of  being  on  the  right  course.  For- 
tunately, before  we  had  decided  on  chang- 
ing our  direction,  we  met  a  party  of  moun- 
taineers, who  informed  us  that  a  few  weeks 
before  they  had  seen  a  small  tribe  of 
friendly  Indians,  somewhere  between  the 
Spanish  Peaks  and  Pueblo,  among  whom 
were  a  white  man  and  a  beautiful  female 
half-breed — that  they  were  moving  very 
leisurely  toward  the  north — and  that  in  all 
probability  they  were  now  encamped  some- 
where in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Ar- 
kansas. 

Elated  with  the  most  extravagant  an- 
ticipations of  soon  realizing  our  sanguine 
hopes,  we  again  pressed  forward  for  two 
or  three  days,  and  leaving  the  lofty  Span- 
ish Peaks  to  our  right,  tracing  up  the 
head-waters  of  the  Rio  Mora,  we  struck 
off  over  the  Green  Mountains  and  camp- 
ed at  last  in  the  far-famed  valley  of  the 
Arkansas,  within  full  view  of  the  eternal 
snowcrowned  Pike's  Peak. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MOKE  CHEERING    NEWS — A  FRANTIC   RIDE — 
IN  THE  EMBRACE  OF  MY  FRIEND — EFFECT 

OF  THE  MEETING SAD  TIDINGS  FOR  HUNT- 

LY — DEEP  EMOTION — STORT  OF  HIS  CAP- 
TIVITY AND  RELEASE HIS  SECOND  MEET- 
ING WITH  PRAIRIE  FLOWER — OLD  FEEL- 
INGS RENEWED — LOVE,  ETC. 

For  two  days  after  reaching  the  valley, 
our  search  proved  fruitless,  and  the  reader 
can  better  imagine  my  feelings  than  I  de- 
scribe them.  My  anxiety  to  see  my  long 
lost  friend  was  so  great,  that  I  could  not 
rest  at  night,  and  barely  devour  enough 
food  to  support  nature.  A  consultation 
had  resulted  in  shaping  our  course  up  the 
river,  and  on  the  third  day  we  had  the  un- 
bounded delight  to  meet  with  a  couple  of 
trappers,  who  informed  us  they  had  seen 
the  Great  Medicine  Tribe  only  two  days 
before,  and  that  they  were  then  camped  on 
a  small  creek,  in  a  lovely  valley,  at  the 
base  of  the  southwestern  mountain  chain 
surrounding  what  is  known  as  the  South 
Park,  not  more  than  sixty  or  seventy  miles 
distant.  Never  can  I  forget  the  feelings  I 
experienced,  nor  the  wild,  prolonged,  and 
deafening  cheers  which  resounded  at  this 
announcement.  Each  of  my  companions 
seemed  frantic  with  joy;  and  as  for  my- 
self, I  could  have  clasped  the  informants, 
rough  and  half  civilized  as  they  were,  to 
my  beating  heart. 

Becoming  at  last  a  little  more  tranquil, 
we  managed  to  impress  upon  ourselves  a 
brief  description  of  the  route  to  be  taken, 
and  then  set  forward  with  the  wildness  of 
mad-men  just  loosened  from  an  insane 
asylum.  On,  on  we  dashed,  over  plain 
heath  and  ridges,  through  thickets  and 
streams,  till  the  blowing  and  reeling  of  our 
animals  warned  us  we  must  be  more 
prudent,  or  their  lives,  at  least,  would  be 
the  penalty  of  our  rashness. 
Throughout  that  day,  nothing  was  thought 
of,  nothing  talked  of,  but  our  fortunate  ad- 
venture, and  the  speedy  prospect  of  gain- 
ing what  we  sought.  Time,  distance, 
every  thing  was  overlooked;  and  when  the 
sun  went  down,  it  appeared  to  us  the  day 
had  been  by  half  the  shortest  of  the   sea- 


56 


LENI-LEOTI: 


son.     But  very  dilTcrent  was  it  with  our.  mj  steed,  my  brain  fairly  reeling  with  in- 
horses,  which  were  so  exhausted  from  hardj  tense  emotion;  and  staggering  up  to  where 


riding,  that  serious  fears  were  entertained 
lest  we  had  ruined  them.  But  a  thorough 
rubbing  down,  and  an  hour  or  two  of  rest 
revived  them;  and  we  at  last  had  the  fat- 
isfaction  of  seeing  them  crop  the  plentiful 
blade  with  their  wonted  gusto. 

I  slept  none  that  night;  in  fact,  did  not 
even  lie  down;  but  most  of  the  time  paced 
the  earth  to  and  fro  before  the  fire-light, 
anxiously  praying  for  the  dawn  to  resume 
our  journey.  My  companions,  however, 
elept  soundly;  for  they  had  far  less  to  think 
of  than  I,  and  moreover  were  sorely  fa- 
tigued. 

At  the  first  blush  of  morning  I  roused 
them,  and  again  mounting  we  set  forward. 
As  both  Pierre  and  Black  George  knew 
the  country  well,  we  lost  no  time  by  going 
out  of  the  way,  but  took  the  nearest  and 
safest  course  to  the  point  described.  A 
Tide  of  four  hours  brought  us  to  the  brow 
of  a  hill,  looking  down  upon  a  fertile  val- 
ley, where,  joy  inexpressible!  we  beheld  a 
village  of  temporary  lodges,  and  a  few  In- 
dians, whom  I  instantly  recognised  as  be- 
longing to  the  anxiously  sought  tribe. 

"Hurray!  we've  got  'em — I'll  be  dog- 
gone ef  we  haint!"  cried  Black  George. 
""  Hurray  for  us,  beavers,  sez  I!  and  a  quart 
on  the  feller  as  is  last  in!" 

Uttering  yell  after  yell,  as  wild  as  those 
of  savages,  we  spurred  down  the  hill  with 
reckless  velocity,  each  one  striving  to  lead 
the  rest  and  be  first  to  reach  the  goal  of 
our  present  desires.  Had  the  tribe  in 
question  not  been  peaceably  inclined,  this 
proceeding  would  have  been  dangerous  in 
the  extreme,  and  a  shower  of  riile  balls 
might  have  changed  our  joyous  shouts  to 
cries  of  pain  and  lamentation,  or  put  us 
beyond  the  pale  of  mortality.  Our  rapid 
and  tumultuous  approach  alarmed  our 
friends,  and  men,  women  and  children 
came  running  out  of  their  huts,  with  fear 
depicted  on  their  faces.  Among  them 
were  two  figures  that  fixed  ray  attention; 
and  from  that  moment  I  saw  nothing  but 
Charles  Huntly  and  Leni-Leoti,  till  my 
gallant  beast  stood  panting  in  the  center 
o(.the  crowd. 

"Charles!"  I  exclaimed,  as  Heaped  from 


he  stood,  bewildered  and  confused,  I  threw 
my  arms  around  his  neck  and  swooned  in 
his  embrace. 

When  consciousness  again  returned,  I 
found  myself  lying  on  a  mat  in  a  small 
cabin,  hastily  constructed  of  sticks  and 
skins,  and  my  friend  standing  by  me,  chaf- 
ing my  temples,  dashing  cold  water  in  my 
face,  and  entreating  me  in  the  most  pite- 
ous tones  to  arouse  and  speak  to  him. — 
There  were  others  around,  but  I  heeded 
them  not.  I  had  neither  ears,  nor  eyes, 
for  any  but  my  friend.  My  first  glance 
showed  me  he  was  altered,  but  not  mor« 
than  I  had  expected  to  find  him.  His  form 
was  somewhat  wasted,  and  his  pale  fea- 
tures displayed  here  and  there  a  line  of 
grief  and  suffering  which  I  had  never  be- 
fore seen. 

"  Frank,"  he  cried,  "  for  God's  sake  look 
up  and  speak  to  me!" 
"  Charles!"  I  gasped. 
"  Ha!  I -hear  it  again — that  dearly  loved 
voice!"  and  burying  his  head  upon    my 
breast  he  wept  aloud. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  had  completely  re^ 
covered  from  my  swoon;  but  it  was  along 
time  before  either  of  us  could  master  his 
emotion  sufficient  to  hold  conversation. 
We  looked  at  each  other,  pressed  each 
other  by  the  hand,  mingled  our  tears  to- 
gether, and  felt,  in  this  strange  meeting, 
what  no  pen  can  describe,  no  language 
portray.  We  had  literally  been  dead  to 
each  other — we  who  had  loved  from  child- 
hood with  that  ardent  love  which  cements 
two  souls  in  one — and  now  we  had  come 
to  life,  as  it  were,  to  feel  more  intensely 
our  friendship  for  the  long  separation.  The 
excess  of  joy  had  nearly  made  us  frantic, 
and  taken  away  the  power  of  speech.  At 
last  we  became  more  tranquil,  when  our 
friends  who  had  been  present,  but  almost 
unnoticed,withdrew  and  left  us  to  ourselves. 
"  And  now,  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  look- 
ing me  earnestly  in  the  face,  his  eyes  still 
dimmed  with  tears,  "  tell  me  the  news. 
Hive  you  been  home]" 
"  I  have  not." 

"Ah!  then  I  suppose  you  know  nothing 
of  our  friends?" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


57 


"  More  than  you  imagine;"  and  I  turned 
away  my  head,  and  sighed  at  the  thought 
of  the  mournful  intelligence  I  was  about 
to  communicate. 

"Indeed!"  said  Huntly.  "But  why  do 
you  avert  your  face?  Has — has  any  thing 
happened!" 

"  Prepare  yourself  for  the  worst,  dear 
Charles!"  I  said,  in  a  tremulous  tone. 

"For  the  worst?"  he  repeated.  "Great 
Heaven!  what  has  happened?  Speak! 
quick!  tell  me!  for  suspense  at  such  times 
is  hard  to  be  borne;  and  our  imagination, 
running  wild  with  conjecture,  tortures  us, 
it  may  be,  beyond  the  reality." 

"In  this  case  I  think  not." 

"  Then  speak  what  you  know — in  Heav- 
en's name,  speak!" 

"  Promise  me  to  be  calm?" 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  repKed  my  friend, 
eagerly,  with  a  look  of  alarm,  while  his 
frame  fairly  trembled  with  excitement,  and 
his  forehead  became  damp  with  cold  per- 
spiration.- 

"  Your  father,  dear  Charles!"  I  began, 

«  Well,  well,  Frank— what  of  him?" 

"  Is — is — no  more.  The  sod  has  twice 
been  green  above  him." 

"Merciful  God!"  he  exclaimed,  throw- 
ing his  hands  aloft,  with  a  look  of  agony  I 
shall  never  forget;  then  covering  liis  face 
with  them,  he  groaned  as  one  in  the  throes 
of  death. 

For  some  time  T  did  not  disturb  him, 
thinking  it  best  to  let  his  first  grief  take 
its  course  in  silence.     At  length  I  said: 

"  Come,  my  dear  friend,  rouse  thee,  and 
be  a  man!  Do  not  give  too  much  sway  to 
your  sorrow!  Remember,  that  in  this 
world- we  all  have  to  die — that  we  are 
doomed  bv  the  immutable  laws  of  nature 
and  the  decrees  of  an  over-ruling  God,  to 
part  from  those  we  most  dearly  love!  But 
it  is  only  for  a  time.  God  is  wise,  and 
trood,  and  does  all  things  for  the  best;  and 
it  is  only  a  short  time  at  the  longest,  ere 
we  in  turn  shall  depart  to  join  them  in  a 
life  beyond  the  reach  of  death.  Cheer  up, 
dear  Charles!  and  look  upon  your  father  as 
one  who  has  done  with  the  cares  and  per- 
plexities of  liis,  and  made  ahappy  change. 
I  know  hov.'  dearly  you  loved  him — I  know 
the  trial  to  give  him  up  is  most  painful — 


and  from  my  very  soul  I  sympathise  with 
you  in  your  affliction.  But,  my  dear  friend, 
we  have  other  duties  than  to  wail  the  dead; 
for  the  living  demand  our  attention;  and 
you  have  friends  still  left  you,  equally  near 
and  dear,  who  stand  in  need  of  your  most 
iron  energies." 

"Alas!"  he  groaned,  his  face  still  hid  in 
his  hands — "  dead !  dead !  dead ! — and  I — his 
only  son — far,  far  away!"  He  paused,  and 
trembled  violently  for  a  few  mo-? 
ments,  and  his  breath  came  quick  and  hard. 
"  But  you  are  right,  dear  Frank,"  he  said, 
at  length,  slowly  raising  his  face,  now  sad- 
ly altered.  "  You  are  right,  my  friend! 
We  know  such  things  must,  do,  and  will 
take  place;  and  we  should,  to  what  extent 
we  can,  be  philosophers  all,  and  strive  to 
be  resigned  to  God's  will.  It  is  terrible, 
though — terrible — to  lose  a  beloved  parent 
and  not  be  at  hand  to  hear  his  parting 
words,  nor  see  him  set  forth  on  that  jour- 
ney from  whence  none  ever  return.  But 
I — I — will  strive  to  bear  it — to  at  least  ap- 
pear calm.  And  now,  dear  Frank — my — 
my — I  fear  to  mention  who — lest  I  hear 
more  painful,  heart-rending  tidings." 

"  You  piean  your  mother  and  sister?" 

"  He  grasped  my  arm  nervously,  partly 
averted  his  head,  as  if  in  dread  of  my  an- 
swer, and  answered  almost  inaudibly: 

"  I  do." 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  dear  Charles!  I  left 
them  well." 

"  Lefl  them  v/ell?"  he  repeated,  in  sur- 
prise. "Did  not  you  tell  me  you  had  not 
been  home?" 

"True!  neither  have  I." 

"  Then  where  did  you  see  them,  and 
where  are  they  now?" 

"  I  will  answer  your  last  question  first. 
They  are  now  in  Oregon  City." 

He  gave  me  a  deep,  searching  look,  such 
as  one  would  bestov/  upon  a  person  whose 
sanity   he  had  just  begun  to  question. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  you  look  surprised,"  I 
added:  "  but  listen  ere  you  doubt:"  and  I 
proceeded  to  narratfe,  as  briefly  as  I  could, 
how  I  liad  met  them  near  the  South  Pass 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  under  what 
singular  circumstances;  how  I  had  soon 
learned  of  their  misfortunes,  both  in  the 
loss  of  their  dearest  friend  and  their  prop- 


58 


LENI-LEOTI: 


erty,  (which  latter  eeemed  to  affect  Charles 
less  than  I  had  expected;)  how  I  had  there 
n\et  the  Unknown,  been  warned  of  danger 
by  Prairie  Flower,  and  what  follo\/ed;  how 
I  had  subsequently  accompanied  the  party 
to  Oregon;  how  I  had  proposed  to  Lilian, 
been  accepted,  and  on  what  conditions; 
and  how  I  l.ud  at  last  been  led  to  set  off  in 
search  of  my  dearest  friend,  and  what  had 
happened  on  the  journey.  In  short,  I  gave 
him  condensed  particulars  of  all  that  had 
occurred  since  we  parted,  not  forgetting 
my  night  search  for  him,  and  the  effect  of 
hia  loss  upon  me  at  los  Angelos. 

He  listened  attentively  throughout,  oc- 
casionally interrupting  me  with  questions, 
on  points  of  more  than  usual  interest,  or 
where,  in  my  hasty  narration,  I  had  failed 
to  make  the  matter  clear  to  him. 

"  Strange!  strange!"  he  said,  when  I 
had  done;  "very,  very  strange  is  all  this! 
It  all  looks  improbable — seems  impossible 
^-and  yet  I  do  not  doubt  your  word.  So, 
then,  I  am  not  worth  a  doUarl" 

"  Do  not  let  that  trouble  you,  Charles! 
While  I  have  money,  neither  you  nor  your 
friends  shall  want." 

"  I  know  it,  Frank,"  he  said,  pressing 
my  hand  warmly;  "  I  know  it.  That,  at 
present,  is  the  least  of  my  concern.  And 
so  you  have  seen  the  Unknown?  and  she 
is  called  Eva  Mortimer]"  He  mused  a 
moment,  and  added:  "  Well,  this  is  more 
singular  than  all.  Frank,  we  must  set  out 
for  Oregon  immediately!" 

'••  As  soon  as  you  please.  And  now  tell 
me  aomething  of  your  own  adventures." 

"  Alas!"  sighed  he,  "  after  the  painful 
news  you  have  communicated,  I  feel  my- 
self unable  to  enter  into  particulars.  I 
will  give  you  something  in  brief,  for  I  know 
your  curiosity  is  excited.  In  fact,  I  will 
i^ive  you  the  outline  of  my  story, and  anon 
will  fill  it  with  detail." 

'■  Proceed." 

"  At  the  time  we  separated  to  follow  the 
wounded  goat,"  he  began,  "  I  hurried 
around  the  foot  of  the  mountain  which  you 
were  ascending.  In  my  haste,  I  missed 
the  path,  and  had  spent  some  time  in 
searching  for  it,  when  suddenly  I  found 
myself  surrounded  by  half-a-dozen  gueril- 
^5,  who,  it  seems,  were  in  waiting  here 


for  the  return  of  a  larger  party,  momenta- 
rily expected,  when  all  designed  an  attack 
upon  some  merchants  coming  in  from  San- 
ta Fe.  A  single  glance  showed  me  resis- 
tance were  useless,  and  I  surrendered  my- 
self a  prisoner.  They  seized  and  began 
stripping  me  of  every  thing  valuable,  when 
it  occurred  to  me  I  could  let  you  know  my 
situation,  and  I  accordingly  shouted  as  if 
calling  to  a  party  of  my  friends.  The 
next  moment  I  was  seized  and  gagged, 
when  the  cowards,  fearful  I  suppose  this 
precaution  had  been  taken  too  late,  (for  a 
cheer  from  you  was  heard  in  answer,)  and 
that  they  might  be  attacked  soon,  if  they 
remained  where  they  were,  began  to  sneak 
away,  taking  me  with  them. 

"  When  they  had  rendered  themselves 
safe,  by  penetrating  farther  into  the  moun- 
tains, they  kept  quiet  till  night,  and  then 
sallied  forth  to  the  rendezvous,  where  they 
joined  the  others,  in  all  some  twenty  per- 
sons. 

"  A  consultation  was  now  held,  whether 
I  should  be  put  to  death  or  taken  along  and 
sold  into  slavery.  The  latter  was  finally 
adopted;  and  Gonzalez,  the  chief,  took  me 
under  his  charge.  Taking  the  great  Span- 
ish trail,  we  set  off  towards  Santa  Fe, 
travelling  mostly  in  the  night  and  lying  by 
through  the  day,  often  in  ambush  for  some 
unfortunate  wayfarers,  who, in  the  encoun- 
ters that  sometimes  ensued,  generally  lost 
both  money  and  life.  My  dear  Frank,  I 
could  describe  events  which  have  passed 
before  my  own  eyes,  that  would  make  your 
hair  stand  with  horror;  but  these  are  al- 
most irrelevant  to  my  story,  and  so  I  shall 
omit  them. 

"It  was  a  strange  fancy  they  had  form- 
ed of  selling  me  into  slavery,  and  I  could 
never  rightly  comprehend  it.  It  could  not 
have  been  for  the  amount  I  would  bring — 
for  that  wbs  small,  in  comparison  to  the 
trouble  I  must  have  cost  them  in  guarding 
me  from  escape.  No!  I  am  inclined  to 
think  it  the  result  of  a  whim — perhaps 
of  the  chief — who  ever  treated  me  with 
as  much  leniency  as  I  could  expect,  or 
have  dared  to  ask  for.  Still  I  was  made 
to  do  menial  services,  and  used  as  a 
slave;  and  it  might  have  been  my  life  was 
preserved  for  this;  for  save  myBelf,  the  par-. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


5^ 


ly  had  no  servant.  O!  how  it  made  my 
blood  boil  at  times,  when  I  thought  what 
I  had  been,  and  what  I  was!  and  how  I 
groaned  in  secret,  to  think  what  must  be 
your  feelings,  and  the  feelings  of  my 
friends,  should  the  latter  ever  hear  of  my 
fate!  But  I  still  had  hope;  I  was  still  alive; 
and  I  struggled  to  bear  up  manfully,  and 
be  resigned  to  my  lot  till  Providence  should 
favor  my  escape. 

"  The  first  hundred  miles  I  was  forced 
to  proceed  on  foot — the  robbers  having  no 
horses  but  what  they  rode  themselves. 
Sometimes  they  travelled  fast,  obliging 
me  to  keep  them  company,  and  in  conse- 
quence I  suffered  most  severely.  At  last 
one  of  the  band  got  killed  in  an  affray,  and 
his  beast  was  assigned  to  me,  which  prov- 
ed a  great  relief. 

"  One  day  the  chief  informed  me,  that 
if  I  would  take  the  oath  of  his  dictation,  I 
might  join  the  band  and  have  my  freedom 
— or  rather,  the  freedom  of  a  robber.  I 
declined  his  offer,  in  language  so  decisive 
that  he  never  after  repeated  the  proposi- 
tion, and  I  continued  as  before  a  slave. 
But  I  must  avoid  detail. 

"  At  last  we  reached  the  Sierra  de  los 
Mimbres,  where  the  band  divided — the  chief 
and  a  few  followers  taking  me  down  to  San 
Domingo,  where  I  was  offered  for  sale. 
Not  meeting  with  success  here,  he  contin- 
ued down  through  the  several  villages,  and, 
in  short,  to  the  very  hacienda  whither  you 
and  another  (God  bless  you  both!)  traced 
me.  Had  he  failed  here  in  disposing  of 
me  to  Pedro  Lopez,  I  do  believe  he  would 
have  put  an  end  to  my  existence. 

"After  much  quibbling,  the  bargain  was 
at  last  struck,  and  I  became  the  property 
of  Pedro  Lopez.  I  shall  now  pass  over 
the  period  of  my  slavery — the  most  unhap- 
py one  of  my  life.  True,  I  was  treated 
belter  than  my  companions,  and,  on  the 
whole,  suffered  much  less  physically  than 
mentally.  But  still  I  knew  myself  a  slave 
— knew  I  was  degraded;  and  the  thought 
of  my  position — that  thus  I  might  be  doom- 
ed to  spend  my  days — nearly  drove  me 
mad.  Sometimes  evil  thoughts  would  en- 
ter my  head;  and  then  I  would  half  resolve 
ts  kill  rny  master  and  take  the  consequen- 
ces, or  put  an  end  to  my  own  being.  Then 


hope  would  revive,  that  something  might 
turn  up  for  my  deliverance,  and  I  would 
strive  to  labor  on,  resigned  to  bide  my  time. 
Thus  a  year  rolled  around,  when  one  day 
Pedro  Lopez  came  to  me  and  inquired  if 
I  were  contented  with  my  situation!  At 
first  I  thought  he  was  mocking  me,  and  I 
j  half-raised  a  garden-tool  I  had  in  my  hand 
to  dash  out  his  brains.  He  must  have 
guessed  my  intention  from  my  looks;  for 
he  took  a  step  back,  and  bade  me  be  calm 
and  give  him  a  civil  answer.  I  replied  by 
inquiring  if  he  would  feel  contented  to  be 
a  slave  in  a  foreign  land!  He  shook  his 
head,  and  said  he  would  not — that  he  had 
felt  for  my  situation  from  the  first — and 
that  that  was  the  cause  of  my  being  treat- 
ed better  than  my  companions.  He  then 
told  me,  that  as  I  had  ever  behaved  myself 
with  propriety,  and  as  he  had  been  offered 
a  fair  ransom  by  a  small  tribe  of  Indians, 
if  I  felt  disposed  to  go  with  them  he  would 
give  up  ail  claim  to  me.  A  thought  flash- 
ed upon  me,  that  possibly  this  miglit  be 
the  tribe  of  Great  Medicine,  and  I  begged 
to  see  them.  My  request  was  granted, 
and  the  first  glance  showed  me  I  was  right 
m  my  conjectures;  and  uttering  a  joyful 
cry,  I  rushed  outside  the  gate,  to  where 
they  were  assembled  before  the  walls  of 
the  hacienda. 

"  Frank,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  de- 
scribe my  feelings  then.  Life,  liberty, 
every  thing  joyous,  seemed  bursting  upon 
me  at  once,  and  my  braiti  grew  dizzy  with 
the  exhilerating,  iritoxicating  thoughts. 
I  hugged  the  first  Indian  f  met;  I  danced, 
capered  around,  shouted,  laughed,  cried — 
in  short,  did  every  thing  extravagant  to 
give  my  overpowering  feelings  vent.  For 
an  hour  or  two  I  was  insane  with  joy,  and 
my  reasoning  powers  as  bewildered  as 
those  of  a  lunatic.  At  last  I  began  to 
grow  calm;  and  then  I  went  around  to  each 
of  my  old  friends  and  shook  them  by  the 
hand,  thanked  them  with  tearful  eyes  and 
trembling  voice  for  my  deliverance,  and  re- 
ceived their  congratulations  and  caresses 
in  return. 

"  But  where  was  Prairie  Flower]  As 
yet  I  had  not  seen  her.  I  made  the  inqui- 
ry, but  could  get  no  direct  answer.  Some 
shook  their  heads,  others  said  she  was  noti 


60 


LENI-LEOTI: 


here,  and  others  again  that  she  was  away. 
Finding  none  would  answer  me.  I  conclud- 
ed they  had  a  siuTiciont  reason  for  their 
evasion,  and  dropped  the  subject. 

"  When  every  thing  had  been  satisfacto- 
rily arranged,  and  I  become  reasonably  so- 
bered down,  we  all  set  out  toward  the 
north.  A  horse  had  been  provided  for  me, 
and  all  were  mounted — the  females,  of 
whom  there  were  several,  mostly  on  mules. 
"Some  three  miles  from  the  hacienda,  we 
reached  a  heavy  wood.  Entering  this 
about  a  mile,  we  made  a  halt  by  a  spring. 
While  watering  the  animals,  I  hoard  a  dis- 
tant rustling  of  the  bushes,  and  the  tramp 
of  more  horses.  Presently  an  airy  figure, 
gaily  attired,  and  mounted  on  a  coal  black 
Indian  pony,  burst  througli  a  dense  copse 
near  me,  followed  by  five  dusky  maidens, 
and  rode  swiftly  up  to  where  I  was  stand- 
ing by  my  steed. 

'"Prairie  Flower!'  I  shouted;  and  the 
next  moment  she  was  on  her  feet,  and  her 
hand  clasped  in  mine 

"O,  the  emotions  of  that  moment!  Time 
seemed  to  have  turned  his  wheel  back- 
ward, and  years  of  toil,  and  grief,  and  fa- 
tigue, were  forgotten.  Passiona,  which 
had  slumbered,  or  been  half  obliterated  by 
other  events,  were  again  awakened  and 
wrenched  from  their  secret  recesses;  and 
1  saw  her  as  I  had  seen  her  three  years 
before,  and  felt  all  I  had  then  felt,  but  in 
a  two-fold  sense. 

"  As  for  Prairie  Flewer,  she  was  pale 
and  exceedingly  agitated.  She  grasped 
my  hand  nervously,  gave  one  searching 
glance  at  my  features,  and  burst  into  tears 
— but  did  not  speak.  Tlien  she  sprang 
away  from  me  a  few  paces,  dashed  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  and  returning  with  a 
bound,  asked  me  a  dozen  questions  in  a 
breath:  'How  I  had  been]  Where  1  had 
been]  If  I  were  well?  If  I  wore  glad  to 
get  my  liberty]'  and  so  on;  and  wound  up 
by  adding:  '  She  was  rejoiced  to  see  me, 
and  hoped  I  should  be  more  fortunate  here- 
after.' 

"Throughout  our  first  brief  interview, 
her  manner  was  wild  and  her  Lunguagc  al- 
most incoherent — which,  so  different  from 
any  thing  I  had  seen,  surprised  and  alarm- 
ed me.     She  would  ask  a  question,  and 


then,  without  waiting  an  answer,  ask 
another  and  another,  or  make  some  re- 
mark altogether  irrelevant.  At  last,  with 
a  hope  that  I  would  now  be  happy,  she  in- 
formed me  that  she  could  see  me  no  more 
that  day;  and  before  I  had  time  to  reply, 
she  skipped  away,  sprang  into  her  saddle 
and  was  oil' — followed  by  all  the  females 
of  the  tribe,  and  some  half  a  dozen  of  the 
other  sex. 

"  This  proceeding  perplexed  me  not  a 
little.  I  asked  several  the  meaning  of  it, 
but  they  only  shook  their  heads,  and  I 
was  left  to  ponder  it  over  in  secret. 

"  We  pursued  our  way  slowly  toward 
the  north,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  Prairie 
Flower,  nor  of  those  who  had  accompa- 
nied her,  till  about  noon  of  the  succeeding 
day,  when  she  again  joined  us,  with  the 
balance  of  the  tribe,  among  whom  were 
some  women  and  children  I  had  not  before 
seen,  which  led  me  to  infer  there  had  been 
two  camps,  and  this  supposition  was  sub- 
sequently confirmed  by  Prairie  Flower 
herself. 

"  My  second  meeting  with  Prairie  Flow- 
er was  very  different  from  the  first.  She 
was  calm,  constrained,  and  I  fancied  cold; 
though  somehow  I  was  led  to  think  this 
rather  forced  than  natural.  She  was  po- 
lite, civil,  and  agreeable;  but  all  that  pas- 
sionate enthusiasm  of  the  previous  day 
was  gone.  She  did  not  speak  with  free- 
dom, and  her  words  seenied  studied,  and 
her  sentences  regulated  by  previous 
thought.  In  fact,  she  seemed  to  have  re- 
lapsed into  the  same  state  as  when  we  first 
were  guests  of  herself  and  tribe.  There 
was  either  something  very  mysterious 
about  this,  or  else  it  sprang  from  one  na- 
tural cause — and  my  vanity,  it  may  be,  led 
me  to  infer  the  latter.  If  she  loved  me, 
her  actions  were  easily  accounted  for;  if 
she  did  not  care  for  me,  why  had  she  taken 
so  much  pains,  as  her  own  lips  revealed, 
to  hunt  me  out! 

'•  In  course  of  conversation  which  en- 
sued, she  narrated  how  she  had  met  you — 
under  what  circumstances — and  how,  urged 
on  by  a  sense  of  duty,  she  had  at  once  set 
off  with  her  tribe  in  the  hope  of  learning 
something  more  of  my  fate.  Fortune  fa- 
vored her;  for  while  on  her  way  south,  she 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


61 


met  U'ith  an  old  mountaineer,  who  gave 
her  tidings  of  a  cheering  nature.  As  her 
adventures  have  been  so  much  like  your 
own,  Frank,  I  shall  not  enter  into  detail. 
Enough  that  she  was  successful  in  finding 
me,  and  that  I  am  here. 

"  Day  after  day,  as  we  travelled  north, 
I  had  more  or  less  interviews  with  Prairie 
Flower;  but  though  she  ever  treated  me 
with  respect  and  politeness,  she  always 
studied  to  avoid  familiarity. 

"  At  last  we  reached  the  present  spot, 
where  the  tribe  have  encamped  for  a  few 
weeks,  or  until  the  fishers  and  hunters 
shall  have  laid  in  a  supply  of  provisions, 
when  they  intend  proceeding  farther  north. 
From  Prairie  Flower  having  seen  you 
where  she  did,  I  inferred  you  had  gone 
home,  and  every  day  have  been  intending 
to  follow.  But  somehow,  when  the  time 
has  come  to  start,  I  have  again  put  it  off 
for  another  twenty-four  hours,  and  thus 
have  been  delaying  day  after  day,  for  what 
purpose  I  hardly  know  myself.  I  believe 
I  have  been  held  here  by  some  charm  too 
powerful  to  break,  and  now  that  you  have 
come  I  am  glad  of  it." 

"  And  that  charm,"  said  I,  as  my  friend 
concluded  with  a  sigh,  "  is  Prairie  Flow- 
er." 

"  It  may  be,"  he  answered,  musingly. 
"  She  is  so  strange — I  do  not  know  vvhat 
to  make  of  her.  She  is  not  an  Indian — I 
feel  certain  of  that;  but  as  to  who  she  is, 
I  am  as  unenlightened  as  ever.  Do  you 
really  think  she  loves  me,  Frank!"  he  ask- 
ed suddenly,  rousing  himself  and  fastening 
his  eye  earnestly  upon  mine. 

"  How  can  I  answerl"  I  said,  evasively. 
"  But  I  know  of  one  that  does,  Charles." 

"  You  mean  the  Unknown — or  rather, 
Eva  Mortimer?"  he  rejoined,  musingly. 

"  I  do.  I  have  already  delivered  her 
message,  sufficient  to  assure  you  of  the 
fact;  and  she  is  certainly  one  worthy  oi' 
being  loved." 

"  It  may  be,"  he  sighed,  "  and  there  was 
a  time,  Frank,  such  intelligence  would 
have  made  me  happy.  But  now — (he 
"paused,  shook  his  head,  and  mused  a  mo- 
ment)— now  it  is  not  so.  When  I  first 
saw  Eva,  I  had  never  seen  Prairie  Flower; 
and  ere  the  germ   of  a  first  passion  had 


been  brought  to  maturity,  the  tree  was 
transplanted  to  another  soil,  and  the  sun 
of  another  clime,  although  it  did  not  change 
its  nature, ripened  it  to  another  light.  Or, 
to  drop  all  metaphor,"  he  added,  "  Eva  was 
tho  first  to  arouse  in  me  a  latent  passion, 
which  doubtless  a  proper  intercouse  would 
have  warmed  to  a  mutual  attachment;  but 
ere  this  was  consummated — ere  I  even 
knew  who  she  was — without  a  hope  of 
ever  seeing  her  again — I  departed,  and 
have  never  beheld  her  since.  She  touch- 
ed some  secret  chord  in  my  breast,  and  I 
dwelt  on  her  memory  for  a  time,  and  loved 
her  as  an  unapproachable  ideal,  rather 
than  as  an  approachable  substance.  I 
loved  her — or  fancied  I  did — rather  that  I 
had  nothing  else  on  which  to  place  my  af- 
fections, than  for  any  substantial  cause. 
In  another  I  afterward  found  a  resem- 
blance which  arrested  my  attention,  and 
changed  the  current  of  my  thoughts.  The 
singular  manner  in  which  we  were  thrown 
together — our  daily  interviews — my  grati- 
tude to  her  as  the  preserver  of  my  life  and 
yours — her  generosity — in  short,  the  con- 
centration in  her  of  every  noble  quality — 
the  absence  of  all  others — gradually  drew 
me  to  Prairie  Flower;  and  ere  I  was  aware 
of  it  myself,  I  found  her  presence  neces- 
sary to  my  happiness.  At  last  we  parted, 
as  you  know  how,  and  I  strove  to  forget 
her;  but,  Frank,  though  I  mentioned  her 
not  to  you,  I  now  tell  ycu,  that  I  strove  a 
long  time  in  vain.  By  day  and  by  night, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  did  she  occupy 
my  thoughts;  and  it  was  only  wlien  mis- 
fortunes fell  upon  me  that  her  image  gra- 
dually gave  place  to  more  trying  thoughts. 
But  our  second  meeting — an  additional 
debt  of  gratitude  for  deliverence  from  sla- 
very— has  done  the  work;  and  I  now  feel 
I  can  love  none  but  Prairie  Flower." 
"  Then  you  are  really  in  love, Charles!" 
"1  am;  and  I  fear  hopelessly  so." 
'■'  I  fear  so  too,"  sighed  I.  "  But  where 
is  Prairie  Flower!  I  must  see  and  thank 
her  from  my  heart." 

As  I  spoke,  the  subject  of  our  conversa- 
tion glided  into  the  rude  lodge  and  stood 
before  me. 


62 


LENI-LEOTI: 


CHAPTER  XII. 

APPEARANCE     OF     PRAIRIE    FLOWER HER 

BEAUTY HER  STRONG  RESEMBLANCE   TO 

EVA  —  STARTLING  SUSPICION  —  MAKE  IT 
KNOWN HER  AGITATION — PROMISED  IN- 
QUIRY—ABRUPT DEPARTURE—MY  FRIEND 
IN  LOVE — INTERRUPTION. 

"  Prairie  Flower!  my  dearest  friend!"  I 
exclaimed,  springing  to  my  feet  and  clasp- 
ing her  extended  hands  in  both  of  mine: 
"  Prairie  Flower!  this  is  a  happy  meeting 
— most  happy!" 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Leigh- 
ton,"  she  said,  with  something  like  a  sigh; 
"very,  very  glad!"  ^nd  she  closed  in  a 
tremulous  tone,  while  her  dark  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

O,  how  beautiful  she  looked,  as  we  stood 
face  to  face,  her  hands  clasped  in  mine) 
Never  had  she  appeared  more  lovely! — 
Since  our  first  meeting,  time  had  ripened 
her  to  full  maturity;  and  though  her  sweet 
countenance  was  pale  and  sad,  and  though 
something  like  care  and  thought  could  be 
traced  thereon,  yet  it  was  so  mellowed,  so 
blended  with  something  lofty  and  noble, 
that  it  added  a  peculiar  charm  to  her  ap- 
pearance which  mere  physical  beauty 
could  not  sustain.  It  was  a  something 
that,  while  you  admired,  awakened  your 
sympathy,  and  drew  you  to  her,  as  toward 
one  you  felt  it  your  duty  and  delight  to 
soothe,  cherish,  and  protect.  As  I  gazed 
upon  her  a  moment  in  silence,  I  became 
forcibly  struck  with  4he  resemblance  she 
bore  to  Eva  Mortimer.  She  was  a  shade 
darker,  perhaps;  but  this  might  be  owing 
to  her  life  in  the  mountains,  and  constant 
exposure  to  the  free,  bracing  air.  There 
was  the  same  mould  of  feature,  and  in  her 
now  sad  and  thoughtful  expression,  a  mark- 
ed resemblance  to  that  I  had  seen  on  the 
countenance  of  Eva  as  she  bade  me  fare- 
well. A  sudden  thought  sent  a  hot  flash 
over  me,  and  involuntarily  I  took  a  step 
backward  and  scrutinized  her  again.  Good 
heavens!  could  it  be  possible!  No!  no! 
it  was  too  visionary!  And  yet  why  too 
visionary,  I  said,  half  aloud.  As  strange 
things  had  happened.  Eva  had  a  sister — 
a  twin  sister — who  was  lost  at  an  infantile 


age— who  had  been  stolen  away.  There 
was  no  existing  proof — or  at  least  none  to 
my  knowledge — that  that  sister  was  dead; 
no  one  knew  what  had  become  of  her. — 
Here  was  a  being  of  her  own  age  appar- 
ently, and  of  a  marked  resemblance.  Her 
history  she  would  never  touch  upon — per- 
haps did  not  know.  Might  Prairie  Flow- 
er not  be  that  twin  sister!  The  thought, 
the  suspicion,  was  wild  and  romantic — but 
what  argument  was  there  against  it!  The 
ways  of  Providence  are  strange,  but  not 
in  all  cases  past  finding  out. 

"It  must — it  must  be  so!"  I  ejaculated, 
completely  absorbed  with  my  speculations, 
and  forgetful  of  every  thing  around  me. 

I  was  aroused  from  my  revery,  by  the 
voices  of  both  my  friend  and  Prairie 
Flower. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Frankl"  cried 
Huntly,  grasping  my  arm,  shaking  me,  and 
gazing  upon  me  with  a  look  of  alarm. — 
"  Soeak  to  me!  speak!  that  I  may  knov/ 
you  have  your  reason!" 

"  Are  you  ill,  sir!"  joined  in  Prairie 
Flower,  with  a  startled  look.  "  I  fear  you 
are  ill,  Francis!  Fatigue  has  overcome 
him,"  she  added  to  Huntly.  "  Better  get 
him  to  lie  down  on  the  mat,  while  I  run 
for  assistance." 

"  Stay!  ptay !"  I  exclaimed,  as  the  latter 
turned  to  depart.  "  I  am  not  ill.  I  was 
only — I  beg  your  pardon! — did  I  act 
strangely!" 

"  As  I  never  saw  you  before,"  replied 
Huntly.  "  You  stared  wildly  at  Prairie 
Flower,  and  spoke  incoherently.  Tell  me ! 
are  you  in  your  senses!" 

"Most  certainly  I  am.  1  was  only 
thinking  of — of " 

"  Of  what,  pray!" 

"  Prairie  Flower,  speak!"  I  exclaimed, 
addressing  her,  as  she  stood  near  the  en- 
trance, uncertain  whether  to  depart  or  not: 
"Speak!  what  do  you  know  of  your  his- 
tory]" 

"  BIy  history]"  she  repeated  in  surprise. 
"  Have  I  not  forbid  you " 

"Never  mind  now!  I  have  important 
reasons  for  asking." 

She  colored  to  the  eyes,  and  seemed 
greatly  embarrassed. 

"  What  reasons  can  you  have,"  she  re- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


63 


joined,  "  for  asking  this,  in  this  wild  man- 
ner?    You  surprise  and  alarm  me!" 

"  A  resemblance,"  I  replied,  "  a  strong 
resemblance  you  bear  to  another.  Fear 
not  to  tell  me  and  my  friend  what  you 
know,  and  we  promise,  if  necessary,  to 
keep  your  secret  inviolate." 

"  Ay,  do,  Prairie  Flower!"  urged  Hunt- 
ly,  vehemently,  who  now  comprehended 
the  whole  matter.  "  Speak,  dear  Prairie 
Flower,  without  reserve!  Speak,  I  pray 
you!  for  much  depends  upon  your  answer." 
"Are  you  both  mad?"  she  said,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  doubting  our 
sanity. 

"  No!  no!"  I  returned,  "  we  are  not  mad, 
but  in  our  sober  senses.  A  weighty  rea- 
son, which  my  friend  did  not  at  first,  but 
now  understands,  and  all  important  to  you 
as  well  as  ourselves  and  others,  induces 
the  inquiry.  Come,  sweet  Prairie  Flow- 
er! will  you  not  grant  our  request?" 

She  hung  down  her  head,  tapped  the 
earth  with  her  foot,  and  seemed  confused 
and  agitated.  I  approached  and  gently 
took  her  hand,  and  again  in  a  soothing 
voice  entreated  her  to  tell  us  all  she  knew, 
reiterating  my  promise,  that,  if  necessary, 
it  should  never  pass  to  other  ears. 

"  Say,  sweet  being!  are  you  not  of  our 
race? — are  you  not  a  pale-face?" 

For  sometime  she  did  not  reply,  during 
which  she  seemed  struggling  to  master 
her  emotions.  At  length  a  half  inaudible 
"  I  am"  escaped  her  lips. 

"I  thought  so — I  could  almost  have 
sworn  it!"  I  returned,  triumphantly.  "And 
your  parents,  Prairie  Flower?" 

She  burst  into  tears,  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

"  Nay,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  be  calm!" 
I  added.  "  Do  not  let  this  affect  you  so 
seriously.  I  do  not  seek  to  pry  into  your 
private  affairs,  only  so  far  as  I  fancy  the 
knowledge  imparted  may  benefit  yourself. 
Tell  me — did  you  or  do  you  know  your  pa- 
rents?" 

She  shook  her  head  and  sobbed  aloud. 
"  Believe  me,  gentle  maiden,  nothing  is 
farther  from  my  design,  than  to  wound 
your  feelings  or  recall  painful  associations. 
Do  you  know  how  you  came  among  the 
Indians?" 


"  Something  I  know,"  she  answered. 
"  Will  you  tell  us  what  you  know?" 
"  As   you  seem  so  anxious,"  she  said, 
making  an  effort  to  dry  her  tears,  "  I  will, 
on  condition  I  gain  the  consent  of  Cha- 
cha-chee-kee-hobah." 

"  And  what  has  he  to  do  with  it?" 
"  I  have  promised  to  reveal  nothing  with- 
out his  consent.     And  now  I  think  of  it," 
she  quickly  added,  "  perhaps  I  have  done 
wrong  in  saying  what  I  have." 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  Prairie 
Flower;  for  even  he  could  attach  no  blame 
to  what  you  have  said.  But  how  came 
you  to  promise  him  this?" 

"  He  exacted  it  of  me  as  my  guardian." 
"  Indeed!     Then  he  must  know  your 
history?" 

"  He  knows  more  of  it  than  I  do." 
"  Then  I  must  see  him  at  once.     Pray, 
conduct  me  to  him!" 

"  Nay,  sir,"  she  answered,  "  it  were  use- 
less. He  would  tell  you  nothing.  He  is 
old,  and  singular,  and  would  look  upon  you 
as  an  intruder.  I  will  see  him,  and  see 
what  can  be  done.  He  loves  me,  and  I 
have  more  influence  over  him  than  any 
other  of  the  tribe.  If  he  refuse  to  tell 
me,  no  earthly  power  can  open  his  lips, 
and  the  secret  will  go  down  to  the  grave 
with  him.  But  now  let  me  hear  some- 
thing of  yourself,  and  how  we  all  came 
to  meet  again  in  a  manner  so  singular." 
"  One  question  more,  Prairie  Flower." 
"  Nay,  no  more.  I  will  answer  nothing 
farther,  till  I  have  consulted  the  Old-Man- 
of-lhe-Mountains." 

"Be  it  so,  then,"  I  answered;  and  the 
conversation  changed  to  matters  connect- 
ed with  my  present  adventure. 

We  were  still  engaged  in  recalling  past 
events,  when  an  Indian  maiden  hurriedly 
entered  the  lodge,  and  said  something  in 
her  own  language  to  Prairie  Flower. 

"Indeed!"  she  exclaimed,  starting  and 
turning  deadly  pale.  "  Gentlemen,  excuse 
me!"  and  she  hastened  from  the  cot. 

''What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this?" 
said  Huntly. 

"  Some  startling  news,  I  judge.  Per- 
haps some  one  has  been  taken  ill  and  sent* 
for  her." 

"  And  so,  Frank,"  returned  Huntly  the 


64 


LENI-LEOTI: 


next  moment,  "  j'ou  really  think  Prairie 
Flower  and  Eva  sisters]" 

"  There  is  so  strong  a  resemblance,  my 
friend,  that,  until  I  have  proof  to  the  con- 
trary, I  can  hardly  believe  otherwise." 

"  Strange!"  he  rejoined,  musingly: 
"Strange!  very  strange!  Yet  since  you 
have  told  me  something  of  the  history  of 
the  Mortimers,  I  must  say  the  matter  looks 
possible,  not  to  say  probable." 

"  At  all  events,"  I  returned, "  there  is 
mystery  somewhere,  and  I  shall  not  rest 
till  it  be  sifted  to  the  bottom.  I  hope  she 
may  prevail  upon  the  old  man  to  allow  her 
to  tell  what  she  knows,  even  if  he  add  no- 
thing himself." 

"  And  should  it  turn  out  as  we  suspect, 
Frank!"  said  Huntly  with  great  energy, 
grasping  my  arm  as  he  spoke. 

"  WelH" 

"  You  know  I— that  is " 

"  I  understand.  You  would  have  her 
the  closest  of  kin — eh!  Charles]"       , 

"  Say  no  more.  I  see  you  understand 
me.     But  then,  I " 

"  Well,  say  on." 

"  I — that  is — you — perhaps  she — she 
does  not  fancy  me!" 

"  What!  do  you  doubt]" 

'•  Why,   no — yes — I — I    cannot   say  I 

doubt — but — but  she  is  so  strange,  Frank. 

1  would  give  the  world  to  have  her  talk 

to  me  uith  the  freedom  she  does  to  you." 

'•  And  if  you  really  love  her,  Charles, 
you  should  give  the  world  to  have  every 
thing  exactly  the  reverse:  in  other  words, 
exactly  as  it  is." 

"  What  do  you  mean]" 

"  Why,  simply,  that  j^he  does  not  love 
me." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this,  Frank]"  and 
Huntly  fastened  his  eyes  intently  upon 
mine,  as  if  to  read  my  soul. 

"  A?  sure  as  that  the  sun  shines  at  noon- 
day." 

'•  And  you  think  she — she " 

"  Loves  another." 

Huntly  turned  deadly  pale. 

"Who,  Frank!— who]" 

''  Charles  Huntly." 
.  "  Indeed!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  rapid 
oliange   of    countenance.      "  You    think 
this!" 


"  I  know  it." 

He  took  a  step  backward  and  looked  at 
me  hard  a  moment — during  which  his  co- 
lor came  and  went  rapidly,  and  his  breath- 
ing became  audible — and  then  said,  im- 
pressively: 

"  Frank,  do  not  jest  with  me!     To  me 
this  matter  is  of  the  gravest  importance." 
"I  do  not  jest,  Charles;  I  know  your 
feelings,  and  you  may  rest  assured  I  would 
be  the  last  to  jest  with  them." 
"  And  you  say  she  loves  me]" 
"  I  do." 

He  grasped  my  hand,  the  tears  sprang 
into  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  trembled  as  he 
rejoined: 

"  Frank,  I  thank  you  for  these  words. 
I  am  suffering  under  deep  affliction — my 
life  is  clouded — but,  if  this  be  true,  there 
is  still  bunshine — still  an  oasis  in  the  des- 
ert— still  something  to  look  forward  to." 

"  My  words  are  true,  my  friend,  if  that 
is  any  consolation." 

"  And  how  have  you  discovered  this  so 
suddenly]" 

"  I   have   not.      I   have   known  it  all 
along." 
"  Indeed!  you  never  told  it  me  before." 
"  True,  and  for  good  reasons." 
"  What  reasons,  I  pray]" 
"  I  did  not  wish  to  encourage  an  attach- 
ment which  may  even    yet  prove  hope- 
less." 
"  What  mean  yoii]" 
"As   I   told   you  once  before:  Prairie 
Flower  may  love — nay,  does  love,  mark 
that! — but  may  never  marry — may  even 
reject  the  suit  of  him  she  idolizes." 
"  For  what  cause]" 

"  That  she  is  already  wedded  to  her 
tribe." 

"  But  should  she  prove  to  be  what  we 
suspect]" 

"ThatTnaj/alterthecasewithher;  andon 
the  strength  of  that  supposition,  and  that 
you  have  been  so  mysteriously  brought  to- 
gether, and  that  I  find  your  affections  so 
firmly  placed  upon  her — have  I  ventured 
to  tell  you  what  I  have  long  known.  But 
remember,  Charles,  I  v/arn  you  not  to  be 
too  sanguine  in  your  expectations!" 

"  Well,"  answered  my  friend,  "  I  will 
hope  for  the  best.     It  is  all  very  singu- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


65 


lar!"  he  addeti,  relapsing  into  a  musing 
mood. 

"  1  suppose  we  had  better  not  start  for 
Oregon  to-day]"  siiid  I,  playfully. 

"No,  not  to-day!"  he  replied;  "  not  to- 
day!    To-morrow,  perhaps." 

"  Or,  peradventure,  the  day  following!" 

"  Ay,  peradventure." 

At  this  moment  Teddy,  Pierre  and  Black 
George  appeared  at  the  door  to  pay  their 
respects  to  my  friend,  and  I  quitted  the 
lodge,  bidding  them  pass  in. 


CHAPTER  xnr. 

JOIN    AN    INDIAN    CROWD SILENT    RECOGNI- 
TION— GREAT  MEDICINE  ILL ANXIETY  TO 

SEE     HIM REAPPEARAN'^E     OF     PRAIRIE 

FLOWER — DEVOTION — URGE  HER  TO  QUES- 
TION  THE    INVALID SUSPENSE PRESENT 

FAILURE — SUBSEQUENT     SUCCESS — PRAI- 
RIE FLOWER  RESOLVES   TO  VISIT   OREGON 

AN     EVENING     STROLL  —  THE     DEATH 

WAIL. 

As  yet  I  had  not  exchanged  a  word  with 
any  of  the  tribe  but  Prairie  Flower;  and 
as  I  left  the  cot,  I  turned  toward  a  crowd, 
which  v/as  huddled  together  near  the  cen- 
ter of  the  temporary  village,  their  eyes  all 
fixed  in  a  certain  direction.  I  knew  by 
this,  and  the  abrupt  departure  of  Prairie 
Flower,  that  something  unusual  had  occur- 
red; and  hastening  forward,  I  soon  reach- 
ed them,  and,  to  my  surprise,  found  most 
of  them  in  tears,  and  the  others  looking 
very  solemn. 

"  What  has  happened,  m.y  friends'!"  in- 
quired I. 

On  hearing  my  voice,  those  nearest  me 
turned  round  and  extended  their  hands  in 
silence.  They  then  separated,  so  as  to 
allow  me  a  passage  through;  and  as  I 
moved  along,  I  shook  a  hand  of  each  on 
either  side.  They  appeared  glad  to  see 
me,  but,  at  the  same  time,  very  sad,  from 
some  untoward  circumstance,  of  which  I 
felt  anxious  to  be  informed. 

When  I  had  concluded,  I  turned  to  an 
intelligent  youth,  and  inquired  the  cause 
of  each  and  all  lookinsf  so  serious. 


He  silently  pointed  his  finger  to  the 
center  lodge,  and  after  a  solemn  pause, 
uttered: 

"  Great  Medicine." 
"  Sick!" 

He  nodded  his  head. 
This,  then,  accounted  for  the  agitation 
of  Prairie  Flower;  and  after  what  had 
passed  between  us  regarding  her  history, 
it  may  readily  be  inferred  I  felt  no  little 
anxiety  to  ascertain  to  what  extent  the 
old  man  was  indisposed,  and  whether  his 
case  was,  or  was  not,  considered  imme- 
diately dangerous.  He  was  very  old  I 
knew,  and  in  all  probability  v.-ould  not  long 
survive.  Should  he  die  without  revealing 
to  Prairie  Flower  her  history,  all  depen- 
dence of  proof  from  her  would  be  cut  off, 
and  it  would  doubtless  be  a  very  difficult, 
if  not  an  impossible  endeavor,  to  indenti- 
fy  her  with  the  lost  daughter  of  Madame 
Mortimer.  On  this  account,  as  well  as 
for  old  acquaintance-sake,  I  was  very  anx- 
ious to  enter  the  lodge — at  the  door,  or 
just  outside  of  which,  were  standing  sev- 
eral females,  weeping.  I  made  a  step  for- 
ward for  this  purpose,  when  an  Indian 
touched  me  on  the  shoulder  and  shook  his 
head,  as  a  sign  that  I  must  go  no  nearer. 
"  I  have  most  important  business  with 
the  invalid,"  I  said.  "  Can  I  not  be  per- 
mitted to  see  him!" 

He  again  shook  his  head. 
"  But  this  matter  is  urgent." 
"  No  one  must  see  him,"  he  answered, 
"  but  such  as  he  desires  to  see." 
"  Then  let  me  see  Prairie  Flower." 
"  She   must   not   now  be  called.     We 
wait  her  appearance." 
"  Vv^ill  she  soon  be  here?' 
"  Cannot  say.'- 

There  was  nothing  to  do,  therefore,  but 
wait  as  patiently  as  I  could.  What  trou- 
bled me  the  most,  was  the  fear  that  the 
old  man  might  die  suddenly,  and  Prairie 
Flower,  in  her  agitation,  neglect  to  ques- 
tion him  till  too  late.  For  an  hour  I  paced 
to  and  fro,  in  a  verj'  uneasy  mood,  revolv- 
ing these  things  in  my  mind,  when  the 
latter  made  her  appearance  outside  the 
lodge,  where  she  was  instantly  surrounded 
by  those  nearest  in  waiting,  all  eager  for 
her  inteiliffcnce.     Having  spoken  a  few 


G6 


LENI-LEOTI: 


words  with  them,  they  all  moved  slowly 
away  with  sorrowful  looks,  and  Prairie 
Flower  approached  to  where  I  was  stand- 
inor.  Tlie  Tmlians,  though  as  anxious  as 
myself  to  gain  her  tidings,  moved  not  from 
their  places,  but  waited  in  respectful  si- 
lence for  her  to  open  the  conversation.  I, 
however,  not  being  bred  in  the  same  school 
with  them,  could  not  exercise  the  same 
patience;  and  taking  a  few  steps  forward, 
I  said: 

"  Great  Medicine  is  ill,  Prairie  Flower!" 

"  He  is,"  she  answered,  in  a  tremulous 
voice. 

"Very  ill?  dangerously  ill!"  I  inquir- 
ed. 

"  I  fear  he  is." 

The  Indians  behind  me,  on  hearing  this, 
uttered  several  deep  groans,  but  said  not  a 
word. 

"Can  he  survive,  Prairie  Flowerl" 

"I  think  not,"  she  answered,  mournful- 
ly shaking  her  head. 

"Any  particular  disease]" 

"  Only  age  and  debility.  He  is  very 
old,  and  has  not  been  well  for  some  time. 
A  few  minutes  before  I  was  called,  he  was 
taken  very  ill.  I  fear  his  time  to  go  is  at 
hand.  Friends,"  she  added,  addressing 
her  tribe,  "  you  are  about  to  lose  one  you 
love  and  reverence.  Let  us  commend  his 
soul  to  the  Great  Spirit;"  thereupon  each 
and  all  kneeled  upon  the  earth  in  prayer. 

When  this  was  over,  I  turned  to  Prairie 
Flower  again. 

"Pardon  me,  fair  being!"  I  said,  "at 
this  solemn  time,  for  intruding  worldly 
thoughts  upon  your  attention.  But  the 
Old-Man-of-the-Mountains  is  about  to  de- 
part, in  all  probability,  to  join  his  fathers 
and  friends  in  another  state.  You  think 
he  holds  the  key  to  your  history.  If  you 
have  not  already,  would  it  not  be  well  for 
you  to  bid  him  unlock  the  memories  of  the 
past,  so  far  as  relates  to  yourself!" 

"  True,"  she  answered,  with  a  start:  "  I 
had  forgotten  that.  I  fear  it  is  too  late; 
for  already  his  voice  falters,  and  he  seems 
standing  midway  between  time  and  eter- 
nity, and  slowly  receding  toward  the  sha- 
dowy land  of  spirits." 

"  Fly!"  I  urged:  "  Fly,  Prairie  Flower! 
and  do  your  best,  ere  all  is  over!" 


"  I  will,"  she  said;  and  at  once  hasten- 
ed back  to  the  lodge. 

For  another  hour  I  paced  to  and  fro 
impatiently,  ever  and  anon  turning  my 
eyes  upon  the  hut  where  the  old  man  was 
breathing  his  last.  At  length  Prairie 
Flower  reappeared,  and  with  her  three  In- 
dian maidens,  all  weeping  and  seeming 
very  much  dejected.  On  leaving  the  lodge, 
each  went  separate  ways  through  the  vil- 
lage, Prairie  Flower  approaching  me  di- 
rect. 

"  To  prayer!"  she  said,  addressing  her 
friends,  who  still  remained  as  she  had  lelt 
them. 

All  again  kneeled  as  before.  When 
they  rose  to  their  feet,  I  addressed  her: 

"  What  news,  Prairie  Flowerl" 

"  He  is  sinking  very  fast,"  she  answered, 
sadly. 

"Did  you  gain  any  information!" 

"No!  I  addressed  him  on  the  subject, 
but  he  only  looked  at  me  vaguely,  and  did 
not  seem  to  comprehend  what  I  said." 

"Alas!  I  fear  it  is  too  late,  Prairie 
Flower!" 

"  I  fear  so,"  she  rejoined.  "  But  he  may 
revive  a  little;  and  if  he-  do,  I  will  ques- 
tion him  again." 

With  this  she  returned  to  the  lodge  of 
the  invalid,  while  I  proceeded  to  join  my 
friend,  and  inform  him  what  had  occurred. 
I  found  Huntly  as  I  had  left  him,  in  com- 
pany with  my  compagnons  d'voyage,  all  en- 
gaged in  an  animated  conversation. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  I  entered,  "  what 
news,  Frank]  Something  has  happened, 
I  knov/  by  your  sober  looks." 

I  proceeded  to  detail  v/hat  had  transpir- 
ed, and  the  fears  I  entertained. 

"  This  is  unfortunate,"  he  said,  when  I 
had  done;  "  most  unfortunate." 

The  sun  was  some  half  an  hour  above 
the  hills,  when  Prairie  Flower  again  join- 
ed us  in  haste.  Pierre,  Teddy  and  Black 
George  had  left  some  time  before,  so  that 
no  one  was  in  the  cot  but  myself  and 
friend,  and  we  were  so  deeply  engaged  in 
discussing  the  various  matters  which  had 
transpired,  as  not  to  be  aware  of  her  close 
proximity  till  she  spoke: 

"  Where   is   this  person,"  she    asked> 
"  whom  I  resemble!" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


67 


"  I  left  her  in  Oregon  City,"  I  replied. 

"That  is  far  away,"  she  rejoined,  mu- 
singly. 

"  But  what  success,  Prairie  Flower]" 

'•Better  than  I  expected." 

"  Indeed!     You  give  us  joy." 

•'  As  I  observed  he  might  do,  when  I 
quitted  you,^  she  answered,  "the  old  man 
again  revived,  when  I  immediately  put  the 
question  as  to  what  he  knew  of  my  his- 
tory. He  seemed  much  surprised,  and  in- 
quired my  reasons  for  asking.  I  hurriedly 
informed  him  of  your  conjectures.  He 
listened  attentively,  and  seemed  ill  at  ease. 
He  had  promised,  he  said,  in  reply,  never 
to  divulge,  during  his  natural  life,  who  I 
was,  nor  any  thing  connected  with  my 
earliest  years." 

'•  Ha!  then  he  knows  your  history  him- 
self!" 

"  Nay,  do  not  interrupt  me." 

"  I  crave  pardon!     Goon!" 

"  Yes,"  continued  Prairie  Flower,  "  he 
said  he  knew  much  concerning  me,  but 
did  not  know  all;  that  something  had  whis- 
pered him  this  ioformation  might  be  valu- 
able to  me  at  some  future  time;  and  that 
he  had  recorded  it  on  a  roll  of  parchment, 
which  he  had  purchased  of  a  trader  for  the 
purpose.  This  parchment,  he  said,  was 
concealed  under  a  stone, in  a  certain  place, 
which  none  but  such  as  to  whom  he  might 
reveal  the  secret  would  ever  be  able  to 
find.  He  farther  said,  that  if  in  truth  I 
had  a  sister  and  mother  living,  I  had  bet- 
ter perhaps  seek  them  out,  and  should 
they  recognise  and  claim  me,  I  could  then 
do  as  I  saw  proper,  either  cling  to  them  or 
my  tribe;  that  although  I  had  been  reared 
for  the  most  part  among  Indians,  and  had 
adopted  their  habits  and  customs,  still  I 
was  not  of  their  race— not  of  their  blood — 
and  he  could  therefore  see  nothing  unna- 
tural or  improper  in  my  desiring  to  form 
acquaintance  with  my  own  kin.  But,  he 
added,  lest  I  should  meet  with  disappoint- 
ment— in  my  kin,  or  those  I  supposed  to 
be  such,  not  claiming  me  on  what  I  and 
they  might  know — he  thought  it  better  I 
should  remain  ignorant  of  myself,  until  I 
had  seen  them  face  to  face,  when,  should 
all  turn  out  as  I  desired,  it  would  be  time 
enough  to  produce  proof;    and  that  if  I 


would  promise  to  go  in  quest  of  them  be 
fore  perusing,  or  allowing  another  to  pe- 
ruse, the  parchment  in  question,  he  would 
make  its  locality  known." 

"  What  a  singular  request!"  said  I. 

"True,"  replied  Prairie  Flower;  "but 
as  I  have  said  before.  Great  Medicine  is 
a  very  singular  being,  and  an  enigma  to  all. 

"  And  did  you  agree  to  his  proposition?" 

"  I  did,  though  somewhat  reluctantly. 
But  I  knew  if  I  did  not,  that  the  secret 
would  die  with  him,  and  of  this  I  could  not 
bear  to  think." 

"  And  so  he  told  you  all?" 

"He  did." 

"  And  where  is  the  parchment  conceal- 
ed?" 

"  Nay,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head, 
"  I  do  not  know  as  I  am  at  liberty  to  tell." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Prairie  Flower!  1 
certainly  had  no  right  to  question.  But 
you  will  accompany  us  to  Oregon  City?" 

"That  is  vvhat  I  came  to  speak  about," 
she  replied,  timidly.  "  You  really  think 
your  conjectures  are  right?" 

"  We  do,"  answered  Huntly.  "  Every 
thing  tends  to  convince  us  so.  At  first, 
vvhat  was  only  a  vague  suspicion  with  us, 
has  since  grown  almost  to  a  certainty. — 
Come,  go  with  us,  sweet  Prairie  Flow- 
er!    Say  you  will  go,  and  I  shall  be  hap- 

py-" 

Prairie  Flower  changed  color  as  Hunt- 
ly spoke,  and  turned  aside  her  head. 

"  And  you  will  allov/  me  a  few  compan- 
ions?" she  timidly  inquired. 

"  As  many  as  you  please,"  returned 
Huntly,  "  so  you  will  consent  to  go." 

"But  when  do  you  start?" 

"  We  will  wait  your  time." 
"  My  duty,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "  is 
henceforth  by  the  side  of  Cha-cha-chee- 
kee-hobah,  till  he  take  his  departure  to 
the  land  of  eternal  rest — then  to  follow 
his  remains  to  the  grave — which  done,  I 
shall  soon  be  ready  to  join  you.  Adieu, 
for  the  present!  I  must  return  to  him 
now." 

Saying  which,  she  quitted  the  lodge. 

"  At  last,"  said  Huntly,  turning  to  me; 
"  At  last,  Frank,  I  have  hope.  Let  us 
forth  and  take  the  evening  air — for  strange 
thoughts  are  crowding  my  breast," 


63 


LENI-LEOTI: 


Arm  in  arm  we  strolled  through  the  lit- 
tle village,  where  the  solemn  faces  of  all 
wc  met  bespoke  the  gloom  of  mourning 
for  one  universally  beloved,  and  took  our 
way  down  lo  the  little  streamlet,  which, 
all  unconscious  of  mortal  change,  ran 
murmuring  on  as  it  had  done  perchance 
for  ages.  All  nature  reposed  in  her  most 
charming  beauty  of  quietude.  The  sun 
was  just  beginning  to  sink  behind  the  lof- 
ty mountains  to  the  westward,  and  the  last 
flood-light  of  day  made  golden  the  tiny 
waves  of  the  water,  and  began  to  hasten 
the  long  shadows,  precursors  of  diurnal 
night,  and  that  night  of  death  which  knows 
no  waking.  The  very  air  seemed  solemn, 
it  was  so  still.  Scarce  a  breath  moved, 
and  the  leaflets  hung  down  their  heads  as 
if  in  sorrow.  The  feathered  warblers, 
vvhich  had  made  music  all  day,  were  wind- 
ing up  their  tunes  with  what  seemed  a 
melancholy  cadence.  A  few  night-watch- 
ers had  just  began  to  give  each  other  calls 
in  timid  tones,  as  if  half  afraid  their  voices 
were  trespassing  upon  a  scene  too  sacred. 
It  was  just  calm  enough,  and  mild  enough, 
and  lovely  enough,  and  solemn  enough,  to 
awaken  meditative  thought — that  thought 
in  which  all  the  unutterable  poetry  of  our 
nature  becomes  infused.  When  the  out- 
ward sense  bids  the  inner  tongue  speak  to 
us  in  lansruage  which  the  enraptured  soul 
only  comprehends.  When  we  feel  a  mel- 
ancholy happiness,  and  a  desire  to  steal 
away  from  every  thing  living,  and  in  soli- 
tude commune  with  ourselves  and  our  God. 
When  the  natural  voice  jars  discordantly 
with  the  finer  and  more  elevated  tones  of 
our  being,  proceeding  from  the  snirit-harp, 
touched  by  the  unseen  hand  of  the  All- 
pervading  Deity.  When,  in  short,  we 
feel  drawn  b}  an  unexplainable  sympathy 
to  a  lonely  meditation  on  things  high  and 
holy,  beyond  the  matter-of-fact  events  of 
every  day  experience.  Did  you  never  feel 
thus,  reader?  Did  you  never  steal  away 
from  your  daily  cares,  your  business,  your 
friends — from  every  thing  common  and 
evanescent — to  hold  a  quiet  communion 
with  your  nobler  thoughts'! — and  then  trace 
those  thoughts,  as  it  were,  to  their  prim- 
eval source — the  eternal  fountof  the  Great 
All-GoodI      And    are    not    such    sweet 


thoughts,  and  sweet  moments  of  happy 
rest,  in  a  life  more  or  less  filled  with  tur- 
moil and  pain]  For  myself,  I  answer  yes; 
for  I  look  upon  them  as  foretastings  of  a 
state  of  blissful  and  eternal  beatitude, 
when  the  changing  circumstances  of  this 
life  shall  trouble  us  no  more  forever. 

Thus  I  felt,  and  thus  my  friend,  on  the 
present  occasion.  Deep  thought  with 
both  was  too  busy  for  words,  and  we  gain- 
ed the  rivulet  in  silence.  Some  fifty  yards 
above  us  was  a  large,  flat  rock,  overhang- 
ing the  gurgling  waters.  Toward  this 
Huntly  silently  pointed;  and  obeying  the 
gesture,!  accompanied  him  thither.  Seat- 
ed at  length  upon  it,  our  eyes  simultane- 
ously fixed  upon  the  rapid  current  laving 
its  base,  and  our  ears  drank  in  its  music, 
while  the  sunlight  gradually  departed  the 
stream,  the  deepening  shadows  of  night 
stretched  over  us,  growing  more  and  more 
somber,  and  the  stars  here  and  there  be- 
gan to  peep  out  in  the  heavens,  and  shine 
brighter  and  more  bright,  till  the  firmament 
above  appeared  blazoned  with  thousands 
on  thousands  of  shining  worlds,  the  ar- 
morial bearings  of  the  Great  Omnipotent. 
Still  we  sat  in  silence — now  soaring  in 
thought  to  another  existence — now  dwel- 
ling upon  the  wonders  of  nature  as  a  com- 
plicated whole,  or  equally  complicated,  in- 
explicable part — and  anon  reviewing  the 
past,  touching  upon  the  present,  and  leap- 
ing forward  in  imagination  to  the  future — 
that  future,  to  the  young,  of  golden  hopes 
and  bright  anticipations,  destined  for  the 
most  part  never  to  be  realized.  Thus  we 
mutely  sat,  for  an  hour  or  more,  when 
Huntly  broke  the  silence. 

"  Frank,"  he  said,  "  what  a  charm,  what 
a  solemn  charm  there  seems  in  every  thing 
to-night!  I  have  been  musing,  as  it  were, 
upon  every  thing.  I  have  been  back  to 
my  boyhood  days,  when  I  was  wild,  giddy, 
reckless  and  frolicksome.  When  I  had 
no  thought  beyond  the  sport  of  the  hour, 
and  no  ambition  but  to  make  a  jest  of  my 
fellow  beings.  I  have  traced  up  our  youth- 
ful sports  (for  you  and  I  were  almost  one, 
you  know,)  to  that  sudden  resolve  which 
parted  me  for  the  last  time  from  my  be- 
loved father." 

Here  his  voice  faltered  to  a  pause,  and 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


60 


for  some  moments  he  remained  silent,  with 
his  face  bowed  upon  his  hands.  Then 
raising  his  head,  he  dashed  away  a  few 
tears  and  resumed: 

"  I  have  recalled  event  after  event  to 
the  present  time,  and  find,  in  my  reckless 
career,  that  I  have  much,  too  much,  to  re- 
gret. But  I  believe  in  an  overruling,  mys- 
terious Power,  and  that  there  has  been  a 
purpose  in  all  beyond  my  own  simple  in- 
clinations. Adversity,  I  feel,  has  been  for 
the  best,  by  working  in  me  a  great  change. 
Yes,  Frank,  I  am  a  changed  being.  From 
boyhood  I  have  passed  to  manhood,  and 
from  the  idle  folUes  of  youth,  to  the  wiser 
and  more  sober  thoughts  of  maturer  age. 

"  Once  I  was  all  for  adventure  and 
change — but  now  the  case  is  different.  I 
have  seen  enough,  and  am  satisfied.  Let 
me  once  more  be  comfortably  situated, 
with  a  home  and  friends,  means  to  gain 
an  honest  living,  and,  Frank,  one,  one 
sweet  being  to  cheer  me  with  iier  smiles 
over  the  otherwise  toilsome  path  of  life — 
and  I  shall  rest  content." 

"  A  great  change  this,  in  Charles  Hunt- 
ly,  most  certainly,"  I  said;  "  a  great  change 
indeed!  But  perhaps  no  more  than  in  my- 
self; for  I,  too,  am  tired  of  adventure,  and 
ardently  long  for  those  very  joys  (joys  now, 
Charles,  though  once  it  was  not  so,)  of 
which  you  speak." 

"  Hark!"  exclaimed  my  friend  at  this 
moment.     "  What  sound  is  that  J" 

A  long,  loud,  mournful  wail  came  borne 
upon  the  air. 

"Alas!"  said  I,  "  it  speaks  a  soul  de- 
parted!" 

"  Let  us  return,"  said  Huntly,  with  a 
sigh;  and  forthwith  we  set  out  for  the  vil- 
lage. 

On  our  way  thither,  we  several  times 
heard  the  same  melancholy  sound;  and  as 
we  entered  the  precincts  of  the  little  set- 
tlement, \^e  beheld  somber  figures  moving 
to  and  fro,  bearing  lighted  torches.  As 
we  drew  near  the  center  lodge,  I  discover- 
ed Prairie  Flower,  in  company  with  sev- 
eral of  her  own  sex,  moaning  with  grief. 

She  espied  us  as  we  came  up,  and,  sep- 
arating from  her  companions,  approached 
and  extended  a  hand  to  each. 

"  Alas!  my  friends,"  she  sighed,  "  I  need 


your  sympathy.     He  who  has  been  to  me 
a  guardian — a  father — is  now  no  more." 

Her  voice  faltered  as  she  spoke,  and 
withdrawing  her  hands  from  ours,  she  cov- 
ered her  eyes  and  wept  aloud. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

BURIAL  OF  GREAT  MEDICINE — PKEPAKATIONS 
TO  DEPART AFFECTIONATE  LEAVE-TAK- 
ING  ROUTE  NORTHWARD PRAIRIE  FLO- 
WER IN  A  NEW  LIGHT — THE  DESERTED 
VILLAGE — THE  DESIGNATED  SPOT — HOPES 
AND  FEA RS~DISAPPOINTMENT— TREASURE 

FOUND STRANGE     DEPOSIT    OF   GOLD 

SPECULATIONS — ON   THE  MOVE — IN   SIGHT 
OF  OREGON  CITY. 

As  I  have,  in  "  Prairie  Flower,"  descri- 
bed the  solemn  ceremony  by  which  the 
Mysterious  Tribe  consign  to  dust  the  mor- 
tal remains  of  such  of  their  number  as  are 
called  hence  by  death,  I  shall  not  here  re- 
peat it — presuming  that  all  who  read  the 
present  tale,  will  have  perused  the  other. 

The  second  day  from  his  death,  was  the 
one  set  apart  for  the  burial  of  the  Old- 
Man-of-the-Mountains.  Each  of  my  par- 
ty, and  every  one  of  the  tribe  was  present, 
and  the  funeral  rite  was  conducted  in  the 
most  solemn  manner.  As  it  had  been  the 
province  of  the  deceased  to  enact  a  pecu- 
liar part  on  all  similar  occasions,  and  as 
this  constituted  one  of  their  furins  of  wor- 
ship, it  became  necessary  for  the  tribe  to 
select  one  of  their  number  to  fill  his  place. 
The  one  chosen  for  the  oflTice,  which  he 
was  to  hold  till  death,  was  an  old  white- 
haired  Indian,  of  benevolent  aspect,  who 
at  once  etered  upon  his  duties,  and  thence- 
forth took  the  title  of  "  Great  Medicine." 

A  grave  was  dug  in  the  valley  by  the 
little  stream,  and  here  the  deceased  was 
buried,  with  all  the  mournful  honors  befit- 
ting his  station.  Great  were  the  lamen- 
tations, and  many  the  tears  shed,  as  his 
body  was  lowered  to  his  last,  long,  nar- 
row home — the  house  appointed  for  all  liv- 
ing! When  his  remains  had  been  cover- 
ed from  the  sight  of  all,  and  the  "  Last 
Dirge"  had  been  chanted,  several  Indian 


70 


LENl-LEOTI: 


Riaidens  brought  and  strewed  flowers  over 
the  damp  earth,  and  then  repeating, "  Sleep 
in  peace,  beloved!"  each  of  the  tribe  took 
a  solemn  leave  of  the  spot,  and  slowly  and 
sadly  retraced  their  steps  to  the  village. 

An  hour  or  two  later^  Prairie  Flower 
sought  me  out  and  said: 

"I  suppose,  my  friend,  you  are  anxious 
to  be  on  your  way!" 

"  At  your  earliest  convenience,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  detain  you,"  she  re- 
joined; "  but  if  you  can  delay  another  day, 
it  will  greatly  oblige  me,  as  I  have  much 
to  attend  to  ere  I  depart." 

"A  day,  either  way,  will  make  but  little 
difTerence,"  said  I;  "and  moreover,  we 
could  not  expect  you  to  leave  sooner,  after 
what  has  occurred." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  I  will 
hasten  all  my  arrangements,  and  at  sun- 
rise to-morrow  will  be  yours  to  command;" 
and  she  left  me  to  begin  her  preparations. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Prairie  Flow- 
er informed  the  tribe  what  had  transpired 
relative  to  herself,  and  also  her  present 
design.  The  younger  members,  who  had 
always  looked  upon  her  as  one  of  them- 
selves, were  much  surprised,  and  all  were 
very  sad  at  the  thought  of  parting  with 
one  so  dear  to  them.  They  could  not  but 
admit,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  her 
duty  to  go;  but  they  made  her  promise,  in 
case  events  should  turn  up  inducing  her 
to  withdraw  from  them  altogether,  she 
would  at  least  pay  them  one  more  visit,  ere 
she  said  the  final  farewell.  She  then 
made  choice  of  three  young  men  and  two 
maidens  to  be  her  companions,  and  select- 
ed five  noble  steeds  for  them  to  ride,  re- 
serving the  little  pony  to  herself. 

At  daylight  on  the  following  morning 
the  whole  village  was  astir;  and  having 
broken  our  fast,  the  horses  were  caught 
and  saddled,  and  ere  the  sun  was  half  an 
hour  above  the  hills,  all  were  in  readiness 
to  start.  The  parting  scene  between 
Prairie  Flower  and  her  friends  was  very 
afltcting.  She  embraced  all  of  her  own 
sex — kissed  the  children  over  and  over 
again — shook  the  young  men  and  aged  by 
the  hand — and  amid  tears  at  losing  her, 
.^nd  earnest  prayers  for  her  safety  and  hap- 


piness, sprang  on  her  pony  and  dashed 
away,  too  much  afi'ected  to  witness  the 
separation  between  those  who  remained 
and  those  selected  to  accompany  her.  The 
latter  now  took  leave  one  by  one;  and 
though  much  feeling  was  displayed  on  both 
sides,  yet  it  was  very  dilTerent  from  the 
farewell  of  Prairie  Flower. 

"My  friends," said  Huntly,whpn  it  came 
our  turn  to  depart,  "  for  your  kindness  to 
me,  I  feel  very,  very  grateful — but  at  pre- 
sent, the  only  return  in  my  power  to  make 
is  thanks.  Should  I  ever  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  do  more,  you  shall  find  that  your 
labors  in  my  behalf  have  not  been  unwor- 
thily bestowed.  Farewell.  If  we  meet 
not  again  on  earth,  I  trust  we  may  in  a 
better  state." 

Each  of  our  party  next  proceeded  to 
shake  hands  with  each  of  the  tribe;  and 
as  soon  as  this  was  over,  we  sprang  upon 
our  horses,  and,  dashing  away,  soon  joined 
those  in  advance. 

I  must  now  pass  rapidly  over  our  jour- 
ney, as  but  little  occurred  on  the  way  of 
interest  to  the  general  reader.  Our  pro- 
visions were  supplied  by  our  trusty  rifles 
— we  sometimes  killing  a  bear,  a  deer, 
and  once  or  twice  a  bufi^alo.  Entering  the 
beautiful  South  Park — a  kind  of  second 
Eden — we  pushed  forward,  and  on  the  se- 
cond day  reached  the  head  waters  of  the 
South  Fork  of  Platte,  down  which  stream 
we  continued  to  St.  Vrain's  Fort,  where 
we  all  arrived  without  accident.  Here  I 
took  leave  of  Pierre  and  Black  George, 
paying  them  liberally  for  their  assistance, 
and  pursued  our  journey  toward  the  Black 
Hills,  to  the  very  spot  where  I  had  first 
been  introduced  to  the  Mysterious  Tribe, 
and  where,  as  I  learned  from  Prairie  Flow- 
er, they  intended  making  their  winter 
quarters. 

On  our  way  thither,  Prairie  Flower 
threw  off  much  of  that  reserve  which  she 
had  hitherto  exercised  toward  Huntly;  and 
not  unfrequedtly  they  rode  on  together  for 
miles,  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. — 
The  effect  of  this  upon  my  friend  was  very 
(gratifying  to  me;  it  seemed  to  divert  his 
thoughts  from  more  painful  subjects;  and 
I  saw  with  pleasure  that  his  pale,  care- 
worn  features    gradually   resumed    their 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


71 


wonted  appearance,  and  his  eye,  especial- 
ly, its  former  luster.  Still  he  was  sad  at 
times — very  sad — and  then  I  knew  his 
thoughts  were  dwelling  upon  the  loss  of 
his  father,  and  the  afflictions  of  his  mother 
and  sister.  He  was  naturally  but  little 
given  to  despondency;  and  when  in  com- 
pany with  myself  or  another,  ever  strove 
to  be  cheerful,  that  he  might  not  cause  us 
the  pain  of  sympathy. 

Sometimes  I  held  long  private  conver- 
sations with  Prairie  Flower;  and  then  she 
would  ask  me  over  and  over  again  about 
her  supposed  sister  and  mother — whether 
I  thought  they  would  be  glad  to  own  her — 
and  more  than  once  made  me  recount  what 
little  I  knew  of  their  history.  This  was 
a  theme  of  which  she  seemed  never  to 
tire,  and  oftentimes  would  be  affected  to 
tears.  Then  she  (vould  tell  me  how  she 
had  mused  ov^er  herself,  and  wondered  who 
she  was — whether  she  had  a  mother  liv- 
ing— and  if  so,  whether  that  mother  ever 
thought  of  her.  Sometimes  she  had  fan- 
cied herself  ignobly  born — that  she  had 
l?een  cast  off  in  infancy — and  then  she 
had  gone  away  by  herself  and  wept  bitter 
tears,  and  had  prayed  ardently  that  she 
might  be  resigned  to  her  fate.  She  loved 
the  Indians — among  whom,  at  an  early 
age,  her  lot  had  been  cast — to  her  they 
were  as  brothers  and  sisters;  but  still  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  not  of  their  race 
— a  secret  yearning  for  the  fond  look  and 
tender  tone  ©f  a  mother — had  troubled  her 
sorely;  and  nothing  but  the  consolation  of 
religion,  and  the  hope  of  at  least  meeting 
her  relatives  in  a  better  world,  had  sup- 
ported her  through  her  lonely  trials. 

Until  I  heard  this  from  the  lips  of  Prai- 
rie Flower,  I  had  no  idea  such  was  the 
case,  and  had  believed  her  contented  and 
happy  in  the  position  where  Providence 
had  placed  her,  as  had  all  who  knew  her. 
But  they,  as  well  as  I,  had  overlooked,  that 
where  mystery  clouds  the  birth  of  an  in- 
dividual, the  thought  of  this  to  a  sensitive, 
intelligent  mind — his  or  her  speculations 
upon  it — the  want  of,  the  yearning  for, 
more  knowledge — must  at  tfhies  render 
such,  no  matter  what  the  outward  seeming, 
very  unhappy.  It  was  this  very  thing, 
perhaps,  which  had  made  Prairie  Flower 


so  distant  toward  my  friend,  whom  she 
loved,  as  I  knew,  with  a  passion  pure  and 
holy.  She  had  thought  herself  unfit  to  be 
his  companion,  and  had  nobly  struggled  to 
undo  what  nature  had  done — and  oh !  what 
a  hopeless  and  painful  struggle  it  had  been! 
— what  an  iron  resolution  it  had  required 
to  carry  it  out! — and  how  many  sleepless 
nights  and  miserable  days  it  must  have 
cost  her! 

At  last  we  reached  the  village,  whereto, 
some  three  years  before,  I  had  been  borne 
from  the  field  of  battle  in  an  unconscious 
state.  What  singular  associations  the 
sight  of  it  revived!  and  how  mournful  its 
present  aspect!  It  was  deserted,  and  si- 
lent; and  though  most  of  its  rude  tene- 
ments were  still  standing,  yet  their  half 
dilapidated  appearance,  and  the  general 
air  of  long  desertion  and  decay  every 
where  visible, brought  to  mind  Goldsm.ith's 
unrivalled  and  beautiful  poem  of  the  "  De- 
serted Village."  We  rode  through  the 
little  town  in  silence,  noting  each  thing 
as  we  passed — and  when  we  had  got  be- 
yond it,  Prairie  Flower  turned,  gazed  back, 
sighed  deeply,  wiped  a  few  tears  from  her 
eyes,  and  then  urged  her  little  pony  for- 
ward at  a  rapid  pace. 

A  ride  of  half  a  mile  brought  us  to  a 
huge  old  tree,  with  a  hollow  trunk,  when 
Prairie  Flower  came  to  a  halt  and  said: 

"  My  friends,  this  is  the  spot  designated 
by  Great  Medicine,  as  the  one  where  I 
should  find  a  treasure  to  me  more  valuable 
than  a  mine  of  gold.  Beneath  that  stone 
lies  all  or  nothing.  Oh!  how  I  tremble, 
lest  it  prove  the  latter.  Heaven  grant  I 
find  what  I  seek!" 

"  Amen  to  that!"  responded  I;  and  the 
whole  party  dismounted. 

Leading  the  way,  Prairie  Flower  passed 
the  tree  a  few  feet,  and  rested  her  delicata 
foot  upon  a  stone  of  singular  appear- 
ance. 

"Here!"  she  almost  gasped,  while  her 
features  grew  deadly  pale  with  excitement, 
and  her  frame  shook  nervously:  "Here!" 
and  she  pointed  down  with  her  finger,  but 
could  say  no  more. 

Forming  a  circle  around  the  stone,  we 
all  gazed  upon  it  a  moment  in. silence,  and, 
then  addressing  Huntly: 


72 


LENI-LEOTI: 


"  Come,  my  friend,"!  said,  "  let  us  raise 
it." 

Stooping  down,  we  applied  all  our 
strength  to  it  in  vain. 

"  It  seems  bedded  in  the  earth  by  na- 
ture," said  Huntly. 

"Oh,  no!  say  not  that!"  cried  Prairie 
Flower  in  alarm.  "  Say  not  that,  I  beg 
of  you!  This  is  the  spot  described  to  me 
by  the  Old-Man-of-the-Mountains.  I  have 
thought  of  it  by  day — dreamed  of  it  by 
night.  I  here  have  rested  hopes  of  which 
you  little  think.  Hopes,  whose  realiza- 
tion may  render  me  the  most  happy,  as 
disappointment  would  the  most  miserable 
being  on  earth.  If  I  have  made  a  mis- 
take, it  is  a  fatal  one.     A  mistake 

But  no!  no!  it  must  not — must  not  be! 
Help,  here,  some  of  you!"  she  added,  ad- 
dressing the  others.  "  Be  quick!  and  do 
not  keep  me  in  this  torturing  suspense!" 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  almost  incoherent- 
ly, and  her  manner  was  very  wild.  As  she 
concluded,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  gaz- 
ed down  upon  the  rock  with  a  look  I  shall 
never  forget.  It  was  the  agonized  con- 
centration of  hope  and  fear.  As  if,  in 
truth,  she  feared  herself  about  to  lose  the 
only  friend  she  had  on  earth.  Instantly 
Teddy  and  one  of  the  Indians  laid  hold 
with  us,  and  our  united  efforts  moved  the 
stone  from  its  foundation.  All  pressed 
forward,  and  eagerly  gazed  into  the  aper- 
ture. Nothing  was  there,  apparently,  but 
smooth,  solid  earth.  For  a  moment  Prai- 
rie Flower  stood  stupified  with  amazement 
and  despair.  Then  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands,  she  sank  down  upon  the  earth, 
without  uttering  a  syllable. 

"  Do  not  despair!"  cried  I;  and  bending 
down,  I  felt  the  earth  with  my  hand. 

It  was  soft,  as  if  it  had  once  been  re- 
moved. I  hastily  dug  down  a  few  inches, 
and  my  hand  touched  a  solid  substance. 
Brushing  away  the  dirt  rapidly,  I  discover- 
ed, to  my  unspeakable  delight,  a  small 
wooden  box. 

"  'Tis  here!"  shouted  I,  "  'tis  here!"  and 
the  next  moment  I  had  torn  it  from  the 
ground,  and  stood  triumphantly  holding  it 
aloft. 

My  words  roused  Prairie  Flower,  who 
started  to  her  feet  with  a  scream,  caught 


the  box  from  my  hand,  pressed  it  eagerly 
to  her  lips  and  heart,  and  then  paced  to 
and  fro,  in  an  indescribable  delirium  of  de- 
light. At  length  she  became  more  calm, 
and  turning  to  the  rest  of  us,  who  stood 
looking  on  in  silence,  she  said,  in  one  of 
her  sweetest  tones: 

"  My  friends,  you  must  excuse  me! — but 
oh!  you  know  not,  cannot  know,  my  feel- 
ings for  the  last  five  minutes." 

"  We  can  at  least  imagine  them,"  re- 
turned I;  "and  certainly  there  is  no  apol- 
ogy needed.  We  are  only  too  happy  in 
discovering  the  treasure." 

"  Ay,  treasure  indeed!"  she  exclaimed, 
holding  the  box  from  her,  and  gazing  upon 
it  with  a  singular  expression.  "  Ha!"  she 
added,  "here  is  something  written  on  the 
outside;"  and  examining  it  a  moment,  she 
added:  "It  is  in  the  language  of  the  My- 
sterious Tribe,  and  translated,  reads,  ^  Seek 
lower."  " 

"  That  implies  something  still  below," 
observed  Huntly;  and  stooping  down,  he 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  loose  earth,  and 
presently  drew  forth  a  lump  of  pure  gold, 
Vt^eighing  some  three  or  four  pounds. 

Great  was  our  astonishment  on  behold- 
ing this;  but  it  was  increased  the  next 
moment,  by  my  friend  bringing  up  two 
more  of  nearly  equal  size  and  value. — 
These  lumps  had  no  particular  shape,  and 
had  the  appearance  of  being  broken  off 
from  a  larger  substance. 

"  This  is  strange!"  remarked  Prairie 
Flower,  as  we  all  stood  examining  them; 
"  and  where  could  Great  Medicine  have 
procured  them!  There  is  no  gold  in  these 
mountains,  that  I  am  aware  of — and  yet 
this  seems  fresh  taken  from  a  mine.  And, 
by-the-by,  this  reminds  me  that  Great  Me- 
dicine was  always  well  supplied  with  gold, 
though  where  it  came  from,  was  always  a 
mystery  to  the  rest  of  the  tribe.  And 
see!"  she  added,  giving  one  of  the  pieces 
a  close  scrutiny:  "  See!  here  is  my  In- 
dian name,  Leni-Leoti,  scratched  upon  it 
with  some  sharp  instrument." 

"  And  on  this,"  said  Huntly,  holding  up 
another. 

"  And  on  this,"  repeated  I,  turning  over 
the  third. 

"They  were  intended  for  you,  Prairie 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


73 


Flower,"  observed  Huntly,  addressing  her; 
"  and  together  form  no  mean  gift." 

"  He  was  always  kind  to  me,  and  I  lov- 
ed him,"  rejoined  Prairie  Flower,  artless- 
ly, her  eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"  But  where  could  so  much  gold,  in  this 
rough  state,  have  been  obtained!"  asked 
Huntly,  turning  to  me. 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind,  and  I  turned  to  Prairie  Flower. 

"  Was    Great    Medicine    ever    much 
abroad]" 

"  Never  far  from  the  tribe,  since  I  first 
knew  him,"  was  her  answer. 

"  But  the  tribe  has  been  roving?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  seldom  spent  a  year  at 
a  time  in  one  place." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  California]" 

"  One  season  we  quartered  on  a  beauti- 
ful oasis  in  the  Great  Desert,  as  we  term- 
ed it." 

"  Ha!  then  there  is  some  grounds  for  my 
conjecture;"  and  taking  Huntly  aside,  I  re- 
called to  his  mind  the  shiny  sand  we  had 
there  gathered,  and  added:  "  I  think  we 
were  right  in  our  surmises  of  its  being 
gold!" 

"  True,"  he  answered,  with  a  start;  "  I 
remember  now,  though  I  had  completely 
forgotten  the  circumstance." 

"  And  so  had  I,  till  this  revived  it." 

"  Have  you  any  of  that  sand  with  you, 
Frank!" 

"  I  have  not.  Our  subsequent  perils 
drove  the  matter  from  my  mind;  and  if 
any  remained  on  my  person  when  we  ar- 
rived at  Sutter's,  it  was  thrown  away 
with  the  tattered  garments  that  contain- 
ed it." 

"  Well,  let  it  go!"  rejoined  Huntly,  mu- 
singly; "let  it  go!  There  is  gold  there, 
without  doubt — and  some  day  it  will 
doubtless  be  the  means  of  great  specula- 
tion." 

"  This  being  the  case,  my  friend,  sup- 
pose we  make  another  tour,  and  ascertain 
for  a  certainty]  If  true,  our  fortune  is 
made." 

Huntly  looked  at  me  seriously  for  a  mo- 
ment, with  a  very  peculiar  expression  of 
countenance,  and  then  rejoined,  in  a  deci- 
sive tone: 

"No,  Frank!  not  even  a  mine  of  gold 

6 


would  tempt  me  to  encounter  the  perils  of 
such  a  journey  again.  Suppose  I  prove 
successful  and  make  a  fortune — what 
thenl  What  is  wealth,  after  all,  that  man 
sheuld  make  himself  a  slave]  'Tis  here 
— 'tis  there — 'tis  gone.  Look  at  my  la- 
mented father,  for  example!  One  day  he 
could  count  his  thousands — the  next  he 
was  a  beggar;  and  the  grave  soon  follow- 
ed to  cover  a  broken  heart.  Fortune  is 
not  happiness — therefore  I'll  pay  no  court 
to  the  truant  jade.  Let  those  have  wealth 
who  crave  it;  let  them  worship  the  golden 
Mammon;  for  myself,  let  me  be  happy 
with  little,  and  I  ask  no  more.  But,  come! 
I  see  Prairie  Flower  and  the  rest  are  wait- 
ing us,  and  we  must  be  on  the  move." 

Joining  the  others,  we  made  farther 
search,  but  finding  nothing  new,  we  all 
mounted  our  horses  and  set  forward — Prai- 
rie Flower  in  better  spirits  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her.  Though  in  possession  of  the 
box  supposed  to  contain  all  she  desired, yet 
she  absolutely  refused  to  open  it,  lest  she 
might  be  tempted  to  an  examination  of  its 
contents,  and  thus  break  her  promise  to 
the  dying  old  man. 

Summer  had  already  passed,  and  the 
mortal  stroke  of  old  Autumn  was  even 
now  beginning  to  be  felt  on  the  moun- 
tains. The  trees,  which  had  waved  their 
green  leaves  as  an  accompaniment  to  the 
music  of  the  forest  choir,  were  already 
changing  color,  as  if  in  dread  of  the  steady, 
onward  strides  of  their  annual,  but  ever- 
conquering  foe.  The  first  process  of  de» 
cay  had  begun — but  so  beautiful,  that  one 
as  he  gazed  upon  it,  though  it  awakened 
a  solemn,  almost  melancholy  train  of 
thought,  could  hardly  wish  it  otherwise. 
As  we  ascended  the  mountains  higher  and 
more  high,  the  scene  below  us  became  en- 
chanting in  its  variety.  Far,  far  away,  for 
miles  upon  miles,  the  eye  roved  over  hill 
and  plain,  while  the  soul,  as  it  were,  drank 
in  the  very  essence  of  nature's  beauty. — 
The  atmosphere  was  cool  and  clear,  and 
the  sun  brilliant,  but  not  warm.  In  every 
direction  there  was  something  new  for  the 
eye  to  rest  upon — something  new  for  the 
mind  to  ponder.  I  beheld  distant  moun- 
tains rising  to  the  very  skies — isslated, 
glistening  and  cold  in  their  lonely  gran- 


74 


LENI-LEOTl: 


dcuf — as  one  who  has  ventured  to  the  top- 
most round  of  Ambition'^  lu<lder,  and 
scorns  in  hia  elevation  all  meaner  objects 
grovellintf  in  the  dust  below.  I  beheld 
lovely  valleye,  as  yet  untouched  by  the 
destroyer,  still  bright  in  their  summer 
garments,  through  which  purled  silvery 
streams — the  former  doomed  ere  long  to 
put  on  the  withered  shreds  of  mourning, 
and  the  latter  to  cease  their  murmurs  in 
the  icy  fetters  of  the  advancing  Winter- 
King.  In  short,  I  beheld  hills,  and  dales) 
and  forests,  and  rolling  prairies,  and  rivers, 
and  rivulets — all  spread  before  me  in  pic- 
turesque succession — and  all  more  or^less 
variegated  with  the  many  hued  mantle  of 
autumn.  The  scene  was  enchanting;  and, 
as  Prairie  Flower,  who  with  my  friend 
had  also  b.een  silently  surveying  it,  ob- 
served with  a  sigh: 

"  Most  melancholy  beautiful." 
But  lovely  as  was  the  view,  I  had  but 
little  time  for  contemplation;  for  the  long 
journey  before  us,  and  the  lateness  of  the 
season,  required  us  to  hasten  forward, that 
we  might  pass  the  mountains  before  the 
snow  storms  and  ice  of  winter  should  com- 
pletely bar  our  way.  We  had  yet  some 
thirteen  hundred  miles  to  travel,  and,  with 
every  thing  favorable,  could  not  hope  to 
reach  our  destination  in  less  than  five  or 
six  weeks.  Fortunately  our  animals  were 
in  good  order — lightly  laden — with  no 
troublesome  vehicles  creaking  and  rum- 
bling after,  to  delay  us  with  bad  roads  and 
breaking  accidents. 

Leaving  Laramie  Peak  to  our  right,  we 
struck  across  the  Laramie  Plains  to  the 
Sweet  Water  Mountains,  and  thence  de- 
scendod  to  the  great  Oregon  trail,  cross- 
ing the  Rocky  Mountains  at  the  well 
known  South  Pass.  For  the  rest  of  the 
distanr.e,  our  road  was  to  some  extent  a 
travelled  one,  and  our  progress,  with  some 
little  delays,  very  rapid.  As  nothing  of 
unusual  interest  occurred  on  the  route,  I 
shall  pass  it  over  without  a  record. 

On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  No- 
vember, 1843,  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
lights  of  Oregon  City,  which  we  hailed 
with  three  deafeninsr  cheers. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AKRIVE  AT  MRS.  HUNTLY'S — PAINFLL   SUR- 
MISES— THE     WELCOME     VOICE — MEETING 

OF    LOVERS — OF    BROTHER   AND  SISTER 

OF  MOTHER  AND  SON — TIDINGS  OF  MY 
friend's     CAPTIVITY — ITS    EFFECT   UPON 

THE  HEARERS TALK  OF  MY  ADVENTURES 

PRAIRIE  FLOWER  DESCRIBED AFFEC- 
TIONATE CURIOSITY — Lilian's  enthusi- 
asm FOR  EVA VARIOUS  MATTERS  DIS- 
CUSSED— A  HAPPY  NIGHT. 

To  describe  my  feelings  and  those  of 
Huntly,  when  we  halted  within  view  of 
the  dwellings  containing  those  around  the 
very  tendrils  of  whose  hearts  our  own 
were  entwined — on  whose  happiness  or 
misery  our  own  were  depending — would 
be  impossible;  and  therefore  I  shall  not 
attempt  it.  The  day's  journey  had  been 
very  severe — for  we  had  all  ridden  hard,  in 
order  if  possible  to  reach  the  village  be- 
fore nightfall.  In  this  we  had  not  suc- 
ceeded; but  knowing  we  were  near,  we 
still  pressed  forward  after  night  set  in,  and 
by  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  had  come 
in  sight  of  the  glimmering  lights,  as  shown 
in  the  last  chapter. 

We  now  held  a  short  consultation,  which 
resulted  in  Huntly,  Teddy  and  myself  re- 
solving to  go  forward,  while  Prairie  Flow- 
er and  her  companions  should  encamp 
and  remain  where  they  wer;e  through  the 
night.  Our  object  in  this  was  to  see  our 
friends  alone,  and  prepare  them  to  receive 
our  fair  benefactress,  whom  we  intended 
to  introduce  as  an  Indian  maiden,  and 
then  leave  matters  to  take  their  own  course. 
Having  at  length  arranged  every  thing 
to  our  satisfaction,  we  rode  forward,  and 
in  less  than  half  an  hour  drew  rein  near 
the  humble  cottage  of  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  And  is  it  here,"  said  Charles,  as  he 
gazed  with  a  sigh  upon  the  rude  edifice: 
"  And  is  it  here  I  again  meet  my  dear  mo- 
ther and  sister?  Alas!  Frank,  there  is  a 
change  ii\deed  in  our  fortune!  and  now  I 
feel  it." 

"  Repine  not,"  returned  I;  "  but  rather 
thank  God  you  are  safe,  and  look  forward 
to  better  days!" 

"  I  will  not  repine,"  he  said.     "  But, 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


75 


Frank,  there  is  such  an  air  of  poverty 
here,  I  could  not  avoid  giving  vent  to  my 
thoughts." 

As  we  spoke  we  dismounted,  and  giving 
our  horses  in  churge  of  Teddy — with  or- 


behind  her  unperceived,  fell  upon  her  vi- 
sion— "  we  are  not  alone — who  have  we 
here!" 

She  turned  suddenly  round,  and  lier  eyes^ 
met  the  tearful  ones  of  Charles,  as,  with 


ders  to  take  good  care  of  ihem,  and  seek  outstretched  arms,  he  stood  ready  to  re- 
another  place  of  rest  for  himself — we  ap-  ceive  her,  too  much  affected  to  utter  a  syl- 
proached  the  door  with  trembling  steps,    able. 

and  with  conflicting  feelings  of  hope  and  i  For  a  brief  moment  she  remained  speech- 
fear.  What  if  something  had  happened,  \  less  and  motionless,.a3  if  fearino-  to  believe 
and  we  should  tind  a  stranger  in  place  of  her  senses;  snd  then  gasping  "My  bro- 
those  we  sought!  But  no!  no!  we  would 
not  harbor  such  a  thought — would  look  to 
clasp  our  friends  to  our  beating  hearts! 

The  house  was  tightly  closed,  but  not 
uninhabited,  as  we  could  see  by  the  light 
which  here  and  there  shone  through  a  cre- 
vice. 

"  Go  forward!"  whispered  Huntly;  and 
I  advanced  and  rapped  timidly  on  the  rough 
door  with  my  knuckles. 

To  this  there  came  no  answer,  and  I  re- 
peated it,  but  harder  and  louder. 

"  Who  is  there!"  said  a  soft  voice  from 
witiiin. 

Gracious  heavens!  how  its  tones  thrill- 


theri"  she  staggered  forward  and  sank 
fainting  upon  his  breast. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Huntly,  who  had 
been  on  the  point  of  retiring,  but  had  been 
deterred  by  the  sound  of  voices,  entered 
the  room  from  an  adjoining  apartment. 

"  Who  have  we  here!"  she  said,  as  she 
advanced  toward  us,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other  inquiringly,  but  unable  from  the 
position  of  the  light  to  see  our  features. 

"  Francisl"  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  as  I 
took  a  step  forward:  "  Francis,  my  son! 
do  I  indeed  see  thee  again!"  and  ere  the 
words  were  concluded,  I  found  myself 
closed   in   a   motherly  embrace.      "  This 


ed  me!     I  knew  it!     I  would  have  known   is   indeed,  a  happy  surprise!"  she  added, 
it  among   a  million!      It  was  the  voice  j  warmly. 


of  my  own  beloved  Lilian! 

"  A  friend,"  answered  I,  as  with  one 
hand  I  grasped  the  arm  of  Charles,  who 
was  now  trembling  with  agitation. 

"Pardon  me!"  answered  Lilian;  "but 
will  you  give  me  your  name — as  it  is  al- 
ready somewhat  late,  and  there  is  no  one 
within  but  mother  and  myself." 

"  And  do  you  not  know  me,  Lilian!" 
"  That  voice!"  I  heard  her  exclaim; 
"  that  voice!"  and  the  ivext  moment  there 
was  an  agitated  rattling  at  the  door,  which 
instantly  swung  open,  and  revealed  the 
idol  of  my  thoughts  standing  before  me, 
pale  and  trembling. 

"  Lilian!"  I  exclaimed,  "  thank  God  we 
meet  again!"  and  in  an  instant  she  was 
folded  in  ray  embrace  and  weeping  with 

joy- 

"  O,"  she  ejaculated,  looking  up  affec- 
tionately into  my  face:  "  O,  Francis,  this 
is  more  than  I  have  prayed  for — more  than 
I  expected:  I  did  not  look  for  you  this 
season.     But,  ha!"  she  exclaimed,  as  the 


"  But  there,"  returned  I,  pointing  to 
Charles,  who,  still  straining  Lilian  to  his 
breast,  was  now  gazing  upon  his  mother 
with  that  singular  expression  of  intense  joy , 
which  the  imprisoned  soul,  struggling  as  it 
were  for  release,  and  choking  all  utter- 
ance, stamps  upon  every  feature:  "There," 
said  J,  "a  more  happy  surprise  awaits  you;" 
and  springing  forw  ard,  1  took  the  half  un? 
conscious  form  of  Lilian  from  the  arms  of 
my  friend. 

For  a  moment  mother  and  son  stood  face 
to  face,  gazing  upon  each  other,  complete- 
ly overpowered  by  their  feelings. 

"  Mother!"  at  length  burst  from  the  lips 
of  Charles. 

"  My  son!"  and  staggering  forward,  they 
fell  upon  each  other's  neck,  and  gave  their 
overcharged  souls  vent  in  tears  and  sighs. 

For  sometime  no  one  spoke;  then  rais- 
ing her  tearful  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  in  a 
voice  of  deep  solemnity,  Mrs.  Huntly 
ejaculated: 

"Almighty  God!  I  thank  thee  for  this 


ebadow  of  her  brother,  who  had  stolen  in  '  moment  of  unclouded  happiness — for  re- 


76 


LENI-LEOTI: 


storing  the  wanderer  safe  to  the  only  pa- 
rent he  has  on  earth!" 

'•'  Ay,  the  only  parent,"  added  Charles, 
with  a  fresh  burst  of  emotion;  "  the  only 
one,  dear  mother.  My  father — alas!  my 
father!" 
He  paused,  overcome  by  his  feelings. 
But  I  will  not  prolong  the  affecting 
scene.  Suffice,  that  for  more  than  an 
hour  very  little  was  said,  except  in  the 
way  of  thanks  to  the  Supreme  Ruler  for 
bringing  us  all  safely  together  once  more. 
And  well  might  we  be  thankful  to  that 
watchful  Providence,  which  had  slumbered 
not  in  our  hours  of  grief  and  danger,  and 
had  brought  us  all  out,  as  it  were,  from 
t^e  Tery  "Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death." 

The  first  transports  of  joy  over,  we 
gradually  grew  calm;  and  having  formed 
a  small  circle  before  the  cheerful  fire: 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  let  me  hear 
something  of  my  friends  in  Boston." 

"  Alas!"  sighed  I,  my  mind  reverting  at 
once  to  my  own  parents,  "  I  can  give  you 
no  news  in  that  quarter." 

"  And  have  you  not  been  homeV  she 
asked  in  surprise. 
I  shook  my  head. 

"  Then  you  met  Charles  on  the  way,  and 
he  perhaps  can  tell  me]"  and  she  turned 
to  him  inquiringly. 

"  Nay,  mother,"  he  answered  sadly,  "  I 
have  not  seen  the  land  of  my  nativity  since 
I  there  parted  from  you." 

"  Why,  what  means  this!"  she  asked, 
turning  to  me. 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said,  in  some  embarrass- 
ment, "  if  I  once  deceived  you  both! — but 
I  did  it  for  the  best." 

"  Deceived  us!"  exclaimed  both  Lilian 
and  her  mother  in  a  breath.  "  Pray  ex- 
plain yourself,  Francis!"  added  the  latter. 
"  You  remember  I  told  you,  that  when 
I  parted  with  Charles,  he  was  going  east- 
ward!" 
"Well!  well!" 

"  But  I  did  not  add,  it  was  only  intended 
»s  the  parting  of  a  few  minutes,  and  that 
when  I  met  you  on  the  mountains,  I   be- 
lieved him  lost  to  us  all  forever." 
"  LoBtl"  screamed  Mrs.  Huntly. 
"  Lost]"  echoed  Lilian. 


"Lost!"  rejoined  L  "  Ay,  lost  indeed — 
for  I  believed  him  dead." 

"  O,  speak,  Francis!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Huntly,  greatly  agitated,  and  looking  from 
me  to  Charles,  and  from  Charles  to  me: 
"  Speak,  Francis,  and  tell  us  what  you 
mean!" 

"  Charles,"  I  returned,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  band  of 
guerrillas;  but  I — I — believed  him  dead — 
for  no  trace  of  him  could  be  found." 

"  A  prisoner!  You,  Charles,  my  son,  a 
prisoner]"  cried  his  mother;  and  again 
throwing  herself  upon  his  neck,  she  burst 
into  tears;  while  Lilian,  gliding  up  to  his 
side,  took  his  hand  in  silence,  and  gazed 
mournfully  upon  him  with  swimming  eyes. 
"Is  it  so,  Charles]"  asked  his  mother. 
"  Is  it  so]  Have  you  indeed  been  in  cap- 
tivity]" 

"  I  have,  dear  mother,  I  have!"  he  an- 
swered, in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion. 

Drawing  back,  Mrs.  Huntly  gazed  upon 
him  with  a  look  of  unutterable  fondness 
and  aftection,  and  then  turning  to  me,  said, 
somewhat  coldly: 

"Francis,  how  could  you  deceive  me! 
I  did  not  think  this  of  you." 

I  was  about  to  reply,  when  Lilian  turn- 
ed quickly  round  and  confronted  her  mo- 
ther. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  do  not  speak  in 
that  manner.  If  Francis  did  not  tell  us 
all,  it  was  because  he  feared  to  wound  our 
feelings — to  give  us  unnecessary  pain. — 
Was  it  not  so]"  she  asked,  appealing  to 
me  with  her  soft  blue  eyes. 

"  It  was!"  I  exclaimed,  struggling  to 
command  my  feelings.  "  It  was,  dear 
Lilian — God  bless  you  for  an  angel — it 
was!" 

"I  crave  pardon!"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  ta- 
king my  hand.  "  I  did  not  intend  to  wound 
your  feelings,  Francis,  and  sincerely  be- 
lieve you  did  all  for  the  best.  But  the  sud- 
denness of  the  news — the  shock — sur- 
prised and  alarmed  me,  and  I  did  not  heed 
what  I  said.  I  now  know  it  was  all  for 
the  best;  for  had  I  known  Charles  was 
lost,  I  fear  the  result  might  have  been 
fatal.  Thank  God,"  she  continued,  turn- 
ing again  to  Ker  son:  "  Thank  God,  you 
are  safe  before  me  now!     O,  Charles,  my 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


77 


son,"  she  added,  covering  her  eyes  with 
her  hands  to  conceal  her  emotion,  "you 
must  never,  never  leave  me  again!" 

"  Never,  mother,"  he  answered  solemn- 
ly, "  till  we  are  parted  by  death." 

"  And  this,"  said  Lilian,  turning  fondly 
to  me,  "  is  why  you  became  so  agitated 
whenever  I  mentioned  my  brother.  I  un- 
derstand all  now.  And  this,  too,  is  the 
cause  of  your  abrupt  departure,  which  has 
ever  appeared  so  singular  to  me,  and  over 
which  Eva  and  I  have  speculated  many  an 
hour,  without  solving  the  problem." 

"  And  did  my  departure  indeed  appear  so 
singular,  sweet  Lilian!"  I  inquired  in  sur- 
prise. '•'  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  was  going 
to  seek  your  brother!" 

"  Ay!  but  you  forget  you  did  not  tell  me 
he  was  lost — and  we,  you  know,  supposed 
him  in  Boston.  There  was  nothing  so  re- 
markable in  your  going  to  meet  him,  as  in 
the  hurried  manner  which  you  departed, 
without  any  previous  notice,  as  if  you  had 
heard  bad  tidings.  It  was  this  that  put  us 
to  conjecture." 

"  True,  I  did  overlook  that." 

"  Well,  well,  dear  Francis,  faever  mind; 
you  are  here  again;  and  now  we  must  hear 
the  tale  of  your  adventures,  and  how  you 
found  Charles." 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  I  am  all 
anxiety  to  hear  the  story." 

"  Who  shall  tell  it!"  asked  I. 

"  You,  Frank,"  answered  Charles.  "  You 
can  tell  it  better  than  I." 

The  tale  I  told:  beginning  with  the  loss 
of  my  friend  at  Pueblo  de  los  Angelos,  and 
its  subsequent  effect  upon  me,  up  to  the 
time  when  I  met  with  his  mother  and  sis- 
ter near  the  South  Pass  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  I  then  narrated  my  last  ad- 
venture, and  gave  a  brief  description  of 
the  scenes  already  laid  before  the  reader, 
and  how  I  had,  little  by  little,  traced 
Charles  to  the  very  spot  of  his  captivity, 
enly  to  find  that  another  had  released  him. 
This  led  me  to  Prairie  Flower,  whom  I  de- 
scribed as  a  beautiful  being,  and  as  good 
as  she  was  beautiful.  I  described  our  first 
meeting  with  her  and  her  tribe,  and  some- 
thing of  their  manners  and  customs.,  and 
recalled  to  mind  how  she  had,  at  the  risk 
of  her  life,  appeared  to  warn  the  emigrants, 


on  that  memorable  night  before  they  cross- 
ed the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  then  revert- 
ed to  Charles,  and  how  I  had  found  him  in 
company  with  the  tribe.  In  fact,  I  gave 
an  outline  of  all  the  principal  incidents  of 
interest,  carefully  avoiding  any  allusion  to 
the  attachment  existing  between  my  friend 
and  Prairie  Flower,  as  also  that  we  had 
any  suspicions  as  to  who  the  latter  might 
be,  or  that  she  had  accompanied  us  on  our 
last  journey. 

During  the  recital,  both  Mrs.  Huntly 
and  Lilian  listened  eagerly,  occasionally 
interrupting  me  with  some  question  or  ex- 
clamation, when  the  incidents  detailed 
were  unusually  exciting.  In  fact,  when- 
ever I  described  a  scene  of  danger  to  my- 
self, Lilian  would  press  close  to  my  side, 
and  gaze  up  into  my  face,  pale  and  breath- 
less, sometimes  shuddering  at  the  picture 
called  up  in  her  mind,  and  seem  to  han2 
upon  my  words  as  intensely  as  though 
they  were  actually  imparting  life  or  death 
to  him  she. loved.  Nay,  more  than  this: 
On  several  occasions  did  she  become  so 
lost  in  the  thrilling  tale,  as  to  utter  excla- 
mations of  horror;  and  then,  remember- 
ing v.'here  she  was,  she  would  clasp  my 
hand  with  a  hearty  pressure,  and  in  a  low- 
voice  thank  God  for  my  deliverance  and 
present  safety. 

"  And  where  is  this  beautiful  Indian 
maiden?"  she  asked,  when  I  had  done. — 
"  What  a  singular  being!  O,  I  should 
love  her  so!  for  her  goodness,  and  her 
kindness  to  those  so  dear  to  me." 

"  Ay,  Lilian,  you  would  indeed  love  her," 
I  answered;  "  for  she  is  one  of  the  sweet- 
est beings  you  ever  knew." 

"  Always  excepting  Eva,"  she  rejoined, 
playfully. 

"  Nay,  Lilian,  I  will  except  no  one  but 
your  own  sweet  self." 

She  blushed,  and  smiled,  and  added: 

"  You  are  too  complimentary." 

"  But  what  has  become  of  this  Prairie 
Flower!"  inquired  Mrs.  Huntly.  "  You 
did  not  tell  us  where  you  had  left  her." 

"  And  what  if  I  should  say  she  is  near 
at  hand!" 

"  Near  at  hand!"  repeated  Lilian. 

'■'  Explain,  Francis!"  added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  She  crossed  the  mountains  with  us." 


78 


LENI-LEOTI: 


•'Indeed!  and  where  is  she  now?" 

"  Within  Bight  of  the  lights  of  this  great 
city." 

"Is  it  possible!  And  why  iliJ  you  not 
bring  her  here  at  once!" 

"  Why,  it  was  already  late;  aKd  as  she 
has  several  companions  with  her,  we 
thought  it  better  for  the  party  to  encamp 
and  remain  till  morning,  while  we  went 
forward  and  prepared  you  to  receive  them." 

"  O,  I  am  60  anxious  to  see  her!"  rejoin- 
ed Lilian;  "  and  so  will  be  Eva,  when  she 
hears  of  her.  While  she  remains  with  us, 
we  will  treat  her  as  a  sister." 

"  I  believe  you,"  returned  I,  pointedly, 
and  fixing  my  eye  upon  Huntly,  who  blush- 
ed and  turned  his  head  aside,  but  made  no 
remark. 

"  O,  what  a  surprise  awaits  Eva  on  the 
morrow!"  pursued  Lilian.  "  She  does  not 
dream  you  are  here;  and  yet  she  has  been 
praying  for  your  return,  with  brother 
Charles,  every  day  since  you  left." 

"  I  thank  her,  from  my  heart,  for  her  in- 
terest in  our  welfare.  tShe  is  a  noble 
girl." 

"  She  is  indeed!"  rejoined  Lilian,  en- 
thusiastic in  praise  of  her  friend;  "  and  I 
love  her  as  a  sister — which  I  hope  she  may 
be  ere  long,"  she  added,  playfully,  turning 
to  Huntly  with  a  smile,  who  appeared  not 
a  little  embarrassed.  "  O,  Charles,"  con- 
tinued Lilian,  pursuing  her  train  of  thought, 
"  if  ever  one  being  loved  another  without 
seeing  him,  dear  Eva  loves  you — for  your 
name  is  ever  on  her  tongue." 

"  I  am  very  grateful  ior  it,  certainly," 
replied  Charles,  evasively,  feeling  himself 
pressed  for  an  answer. 

"  And  well  you  may  be — for  her  equal 
does  not  live!"  persisted  Lilian  with  spirit, 
loth  to  quit  the  subject. 

"  Do  not  assert  that!"  returned  I,  with 
a  smile.  "  You  forget  that  Eva  had  a  sis- 
ter." 

"  But  who  knows  any  thing  of  her  sis- 
ter, Francis?' 

"  Ay,  who  knovv.s!"  answered  I,  reflect- 
ing on  what  I  suspected,  and  on  what  the 
morrow  might  reveal.  "  But  come,  Lilian, 
since  Eva  lias  so  much  place  in  your 
thoughts,  tell  me  how  it  has  fared  with  you 
since  last  we  met." 


"  O,  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  and 
you  away,"  she  answered,  naively.  "  We 
have  walked,  and  rode,  and  played,  and 
sung,  and  read,  and  talked,  and  wondered 
fifty  times  a  day  where  you  were,  and 
whan  you  would  return,  and  if  Charles 
would  come  with  you,  and  eo  on.  To 
sum  up,  the  spring,  summer  and  most  of 
the  autumn  have  passed — but  bomehow 
the  lime  has  been  more  tedious  than  I 
could  have  wished.  There  is  not  the  so- 
ciety here  to  please  us,  and  on  the  whole 
we  have  not  been  very  well  contented. — 
There  has  been  quite  an  addition  of  set- 
tlers here  during  the  past  season,  and  the 
village  has  much  improved  since  you  saw 
it.  In  fact,  it  begins  to  assume  the  aspect 
of  a  civilized  town;  but  still  I  feel  I  could 
never  be  happy  here." 

"  And  would  you  like  to  return  to  the 
east!" 

"  O,  dearly!" 

"  You  shall  start  in  the  spring,  then,"  I 
rejoined. 

"  0,that  is  joyful  nevv's!  And  Evashall 
go  also!" 

"  All  that  desire  to  accompany  us,  Lil- 
ian." 

"  Eva  will  be  so  rejoiced  at  this.  But 
mother  has  invested  what  little  means  she 
had  in  the  purchase  of  land." 

"  Well,  that  can  be  sold  again;  and  it 

will  have  lost  nothing  in  value,  since  the 

town  has  begun  to  flourish." 

i      "  And  will  vou  go,  mother!"  asked  Lili- 

I  an,  addressing  the  good  lady,  who,  mean- 

j  time,  had  been  conversing  with  Charles  in 

an  under  tone. 

j      "  As  my  children  desire,"  answered  Mrs. 

i  Huntly.      "  I  shall  leave  all  to  you,  my 

!  children.     But,  come!  Charles  is  about  to 

tell  us  of  his  captivity;  and  although  it  is 

late,  I  am  anxious  to  hear  his  tale." 

Thus  ended  my  conversation  for  the  time 
with  Lilian;  and  forming  a  half  circle 
around  her  brother,  we  all  attentively  lis- 
tened to  his  thrilling  narrative.  By  the 
time  he  had  concluded,  the  night  was  far 
advanced;  and  though  I  had  a  thousand 
things  to  say  to  Lili-jn,  I  deferred  them  all 
to  another  opportunity,  and  retired  to  rest 
v.'ith  a  lighter  heart  than  I  had  known  for 
many  a  long  year. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


79 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MOKNING  SALUTATIONS— MY  FRIEND  GLOOMY 

OLD    FraENDS — CORDIAL      GREETINGS — 

MEETING    OF    CHARLES  AND  EVA — EMBAR- 
RASSMENT   OF     BOTH REASSURANCE 

PRAIRIE    FLOWER   DISCUSSED NATURAL 

SURMISES — SLIGHT  JEALOUSY — GOOD  TID- 
JNGS.    ■ 

When  I  awoke  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, the  bright  sun  was  already  streaming 
through  the  half  closed  shutter  of  my 
room.  Huntly  was  up  and  dressed,  and 
standing  by  my  bed. 

"Come!'"  he  said,  as  I  partially  aroused 
myself  to  look  around:  "Come,  Frank, 
the  sun  is  up  before  you,  and  breakfast  is 
waitinjj!'' 

At  first  I  fait  a  little  bewildered,  as  a 
person  sometimes  will  in  a  strange  place. 
But  it  was  only  momentary;  and  remember- 
ing where  f  was,  I  sprang  to  the  floor,  hur- 
ried my  rude  toilet,  and  accompanied  my 
friend  to  the  larger  apartment,  where  I 
found  the  table  smoking  with  hot  viands, 
and  Lilian  and  her  mother  ready  to  wel- 
come me  with  sweet  smiles  and  cordial 
ealutatiotis. 

"  And  how  did  you  rest!""  inquired  Mrs. 
Huntly. 

"Well!"  I  answered.  "  I  slept  sound- 
ly, I  assure  you,  or  I  should  have  made  my 
appearance  ere  this." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  my  son,  for  you 
needed  rest.  Lilian  and  I  were  not  so  for- 
tunate; for  the  unusual  events  of  last 
Slight  drove  all  slumber  from  our  eyelids, 
and  we  could  do  nothing  hnt  talk  of  you 
and  Charles." 

"  I  fear  our  presence,  then,"  said  I,  smi- 
Jing,  "  has  robbed  you  of  a  sweet  night's 
rest]" 

'  "  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  returned  Lilian, 
-archly.  "  Your  presence  has  been  more 
l)eneficial  than  sleep,  I  assure  you — and 
never  did  I  behold  daylight  with  more 
joy." 

"  Thit  yo«  might  escape  from  your  re- 
*aections,  «h!  Lilian!" 

"  That  I  might  see  you  again,"  she  re- 
joined, with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles. 

"  A  kiss  for  that!"  cried  I  gailj. 

And  I  took  it 


The  morning  meal  passed  off  cheerfully 
with  all  save  Charles,  who  appeared  some- 
what gloomy,  at  times  abstracted,  and  rare- 
ly spoke. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  friend!"  in- 
quired I.  "  One  would  look  to  see  you 
cheerful,  if  not  gay;  and  yet  you  are  silent 
and  thoughtful." 

"  I  feel  a  little  depressed  in  spirits,"  he 
answered.  "  But  nevermind  me.  I  shall 
be  myself  in  time.  At  present  I  am  so- 
berly inclined." 

"  Fatigue,  perhaps?"  suggested  his  mo- 
ther. 

"  My  father!"  he  answered,  solemnly. 

Instantly  a  dead  silence  prevailed,  and 
the  tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  both  Mrs. 
Huntly  and  Liliaa. 

"  But,  come,"  added  Charles,  after  a 
pause,  "  do  not  let  me  make  you  sad,  my 
friends!  You  mourned  my  father  bitterly, 
long  ere  I  heard  of  his  death.  You  must 
remember  my  cause  for  grief  is  recent." 

"Alas!"  sigted  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  we  all 
mourn  him  still,  and  ever  must." 

Another  gloomy  silence  succeeded. 

"  I  saw  Teddy  this  morning,"  at  length 
pursued  Charles,  anxious  to  divert  our 
thoughts  from  the  painful  channel  into 
which  his  remarks  had  drawn  them,  "  and 
I  dispatched  him  to  Prairie  Flower,  re- 
questing the  presence  of  herself  and 
friends.  She  and  they  will  soon  be  here." 
"And  I,"  added,  Lilian,  "have  seen 
Eva.  It  would  have  done  you  good  to  have 
v/itnessed  her  surprise  and  delight,  on  hear- 
ing the  joyful  tidings  I  imparted.  I  ex- 
pect her  here  every  moment.  Ha!  she  ie 
here  now!"  she  added,  rising;  "  I  kno\4' 
her  step;"  and  hastening  to  the  door,  she 
conducted  the  object  of  her  remarks  and 
Madame  Mortimer  into  the  apartment. 
•  I  hurriedly  arose  and  advanced  to  meet 
them. 

"  O,  I  am  so  rejoiced  to  see  you,  Fran- 
ciol"  cried  Eva,  springing  forward  and  ex- 
tending both  hands,  which  I  shook  warm- 
ly.    "  This  is  a  joyful  surprise  indeed!" 

"  And  I,"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  com- 
ing up, "  I,  too,  believe  me,  am  most  hap- 
py lo  welcome  you  back,  as  it  were,  to  the 
land  of  the  living!  We  have  felt  your 
loss  severely — most  severelj^  sir;"  and  the 


80 


LENI-LEOTI: 


pressure  of  her  hands,  as  she  said  this, 
convinced  me  her  words  were  not  idly 
said. 

"  I  feel  myself  most  fortunate  and  hap- 
py in  having  such  friends"  I  replied,  em- 
phasising- the  last  word;  "and,  I  assure 
you,  r  am  as  rejoiced  to  meet  them  as  they 
can  be  to  see  me.  But,  come!  let  me  pre- 
sent you  to  my  long  lost  friend;"  and  turn- 
ing to  Huntly,  who  had  risen  from  his  seat, 
I  introduced  both  mother  and  daughter  to- 
gether. 

Huntly  bowed  low  to  each,  and,  with 
unusual  embarrassment  for  him,  said  it 
gave  him  extreme  pleasure  to  meet  with 
those  whom  he  had  seen  years  before,  in 
a  moment  of  peril,  and  of  whom  he  had 
since  heard  so  much  from  me. 

I  particularly  noted  the  countenance  of 
Eva,  who  now  beheld  Charles  Huntly  for 
the  first  time.  As  I  presented  her,  she 
turned  pale,  then  crimsoned  to  the  eyes, 
then  took  a  faltering  step  forward,  as  if  to 
meet  "him,  but  finally  paused  and  let  her 
eyes  sink  to  the  floor,  seemingly  greatly 
embarrassed.  Not  so  with  Madame  Mor- 
timer. With  a  quick  step  she  instantly 
advanced  toward  Charles,  who  met  her 
half  way,  seized  his  proffered  hand,  and 
frankly  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion: 

"  God  bless  you,  Charles  Huntly !  I  am 
most  happy  to  behold  you.  You,  sir,  a 
stranger,  saved  the  life  of  my  daughter) 
at  the  risk  of  your  own.  You  have  had  a 
fond  mother's  prayers  for  your  safety  and 
happiness  ever  since;  but  until  now,  I  have 
never  had  an  opportunity  of  expressing  to 
you  my  most  lasting  obligations;"  and  she 
turned  away  her  face  to  conceal  the  spring- 
ing tears. 

"  You  owe  me  no  obligations,"  returned 
my  friend,  frankly.  "If  there  were  any 
due,  they  have  long  since  been  cancelled 
in  your  kindness  to  those  I  love.  I  did 
but  my  duty;  and  if  the  adventure  was 
perilous  at  the  time,  it  certainly  brought 
its  own  reward  afterwards,  in  a  satisfied 
conscience." 

Here  he  rested  his  eye  upon  Eva,  with 
an  expression  as  of  uncertainty  whether 
to  advance  to  her  side  or  remain  where  he 
was.     At  the  same  time  Eva  locked  up, 


their  eyes  met,  and  with  a  simultaneous 
movement,  each  approached  and  took  the 
other  by  the  hand. 

"  O,  sir!"  began  Eva,  in  a  timid  voicej 
and  then  paused,  while  her  snowy  hand 
trembled  with  agitation.  Then  making 
a  struggle  to  appear  calm,  she  added:  "  I 
— I — am  very — very  grateful;"  and  the 
last  word  died  away  in  an  almost  inaudible 
murmur. 

What  a  perplexing  predicament  for  my 
friend!  Before  him  stood  the  first  being 
he  had  ever  loved,  beyond  the  love  filial 
and  fraternal.  She  stood  before  him,  face 
to  face,  her  hand  trembling  in  his,  and  her 
voice  sounding  the  sweet  words  of  a  grate- 
ful heart  in  his  ear.  That  voice  and  those 
words  which  once  would  have  maiie  him 
frantic  with  rapture.  Which  once  would 
have  sent  the  het  blood  to  his  heart,  only 
that  it  might  again  leap  in  burning  streams 
through  his  swollen  veins.  Which  once, 
in  short,  would  have  made  him  the  hap- 
piest of  mortals.  How  was  it  now!  Time 
and  circumstances  work  great  changes  in 
the  human  heart,  and  my  friend  was  chang- 
ed— at  least  changed  in  that  impassioned 
sentiment  he  had  once  felt  for  the  object 
before  him.  He  was  not  cold  and  indif- 
ferent— not  insensible  to  her  lovely  charms 
and  noble  virtues.  No!  he  was  affected — 
deeply  affected — affected  to  tears,  by  her 
look  and  language.  He  loved  her  still — 
but  with  a  modified  love.  The  love  of  a 
brother  for  a  sister.  The  love  which  is 
founded  on  esteem,  for  the  high  and  noble 
qualities  possessed  by  another,  without  re- 
gard to  mere  personalities.  There  was  no 
ardency — no  passion.  No!  all  this  was 
gone — transferred  to  another.  Prairie 
Flower  alone  held  the  heart  of  Charles 
Huntly. 

"  Miss  Mortimer,"  replied  my  friend — 
"  or  rather  let  me  call  you  Eva — I  am  most 
happy  to  meet  you;  and  teel  it  is  I,  rather 
than  you,  who  ought  to  be  grateful,  for 
having  been  permitted  to  do  an  act  which 
has  already  repaid  me  ten-  fold.  I  am  one 
who  hold  that  every  virtuous  deed  bears 
with  it  its  own  reward.  Pray,  be  seated, 
and  we  will  talk  farther!" 

"  Ay,"  chimed  in  Madame  Mortimer, 
"  and  you  shall  give  us,  Charles,  some  of 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


!1 


your  own  adventures.  Since  you  came  to 
the  Far  West,  you  have,  if  I  am  rightly 
informed,  experienced  much  of  the  ro- 
mantic." 

"  I  have  seen  a  little  of  romance,  I  be- 
lieve," replied  Huntly,  as,  pointing  his 
friends  to  seats,  he  took  another  between 
them. 

"  Lilian,"  pursued  Madame  Mortimer, 
"  has  already  told  me  something,  and  I  am 
anxious  to  hear  more.  She  says  you  are 
indebted  to  a  beautiful  Indian  maiden  for 
both  life  and  liberty — certainly  a  heavy  ob- 
ligation on  your  part." 

"I  feel  it  such,"  rejoined  Huntly, chang- 
ing color. 

"  And  who  is  this  Indian  girll  and  to 
what  tribe  does  she  belong]  The  daugh- 
ter of  some  great  chief,  I  suppose.' — for  in 
all  novels,  you  know,  the  heroine  must  be 
some  great  personage,  either  acknowledg- 
ed or  incog." 

"  But  you  forget,  madam,"  returned 
Huntly,  smiling,  "  that  the  heroine  in  this 
case,  as  you  are  pleased  to  term  Prairie 
Flower,  is  an  individual  in  real  life;  where- 
as in  novels,  the  heroine  alone  exists  in 
the  imagination  of  the  author,  and  can  be 
whatever  he  may  see  proper  to  make  her. 
Therefore  you  should  not  be  surprised, 
should  she  turn  out  some  humble  individual. 

"  Well,"  answered  Mad£me  Mortimer, 
'•  all  romance  is  much  alike,  whether  im- 
aginary or  real;  for  the  novelist,  if  true  to 
his  calling,  must  draw  his  scenes  from  real 
life;  and  hence  I  may  be  permitted  to 
suppose  the  heroine,  in  this  case,  a  person 
of  some  consequence." 

"And  so  she  may  be.  for  what  we  know 
to  the  contrary,"  said  I,  joining  in. 

"  And  do  you  not  know  who  she  is, 
then?'  asked  Madame  Mortimer. 

"We  know  nothing  positive." 

"Is  she  not  the  daughter  of  a  chief]" 

"No." 

"Is  she  beautiful!"  asked  Eva,  giving 
me  a  peculiar  look. 

"  Very  beautiful,"  replied  I,  glancing  at 
my  friend,  who  colored  and  seemed  a  little 
confused. 

Both  Eva  and  her  mother  caught  the 
expression  of  Huntly's  countenance,  and 
the  latter  said: 


"  Then  perhaps  Charles  has  lost  his  heart 
with  her!" 

Eva  turned  to  him  quickly,  with  a  search- 
ing glance,  and  immediately  added: 

"  I  believe  he  has — for  he  changes  color 
at  the  mere  mention  of  her  name;"  and 
her  own  features,  as  she  spoke,  grew  a 
shade  paler. 

"  One  has  his  heart  that  is  nearer  at 
hand,"  observed  Lilian,  who,  with  her 
mother,  had  been  standing  a  silent  specta- 
tor of  what  had  passed. 

"I  pray  you  drop  this  jesting!"  said 
Huntly,  with  an  effort  to  appear  careless 
and  unconcerned. 

"  Nay,  but  I  must  know  more  of  this 
singular  personage,"  pursued  Madame  Mor- 
timer;" for  I  feel  deeply  interested  in  her. 
A  girl  that  could  and  would  do  what  she 
has  done,  can  be  no  ordinary  being." 

"  So  think  I,"  added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  And  so  you  will  find  her,"  I  rejoined. 

"  I  am  dying  to  see  her,"  said  Lilian. 

"She  must  have  taken  great  interest  in 
the  fate  of  Charles,  to  seek  him  out  in  cap- 
tivity," observed  Madame  Mortimer.  "  Is 
it  not  so,  Francis!" 

"  Her  motto  of  life  is  to  do  all  the  good 
she  can,"  I  answered,  rather  evasively. 
"  She  would  take  an  interest  in  any  one 
who  chanced  to  be  in  trouble." 

"  God  bless  her,  then,  for  a  true  heartl" 
was  the  response. 

"  But  how  came  she  to  think  of  visiting 
Oregon]"  asked  Eva. 

"  We  persuaded  her  to  accompany  us 
home,"  I  replied.  "  As  she  once  saved 
both  our  lives,  and  afterwards  ransomed 
Charles  froni  slavery,  not  forgetting  that 
night  which  you  all  remember,  when  she 
gave  us  timely  warning  of  danger,  where- 
by much  boodshed  was  averted,  I  thought 
you  would  like  to  see  and  thank  her." 

"  And  you  were  right,"  said  Lilian.  "O, 
Eva,  we  will  love  her  as  a  sister,  will  we 
not]" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Eva,  rather  ab- 
stractedly, and  evidently  not  so  well  pleas- 
ed with  the  idea  of  her  being  present  as 
the  other.  "  Certainly,  we  will  love  her 
as  a  sister." 

Could  a  faint,  a  very  faint  spark  of  jeal- 
ousy have  begun  to  blaze  in  her  breast]  I 


82 


LENI-LEOTI: 


observed  her   closely   and   drew  my  own| 
conclusions.     Let  the  reader  draw  his. 

Meantime  Hiintly  iiad  remained  seated, 
apparently  indilTeront  to  every  thing  said. 
Was  he  indifferent?  Again  let  the  read- 
er, wlio  knows  something  of  the  state  of 
his  Ijcart,  be  his  own  judge.  We  who  are 
in  the  secret  can  think  what  we  please. 
And  why  did  Eva  suddenly  become  so 
thoughtful  and  abstracted?  Was  she 
thinking  of  Prairie  Flower?  and  did  she 
fear  a  rival  in  an  Indian  maiden? — for  I  had 
never  intimated  she  was  other  than  an  In- 
dian. Again  let  the  reader  decide.  My 
design,  as  previously  stated,  was  to  bring 
all  parties  together,  and  leave  matters  to 
take  their  own  course;  and  I  now  felt 
anxious  for  all  the  actors  to  be  on  the 
stage,  that  I  might  witness  the  denoue- 
ment. 

For  some  time  the  conversation  went 
on,  gradually  changing  from  Prairie  Flow- 
er to  my  friend,  who  was  called  upon  to 
narrate  some  of  his  adventures. 

Anxious  to  entertain  those  present,  and 
divert  his  thoughts  from  other  subjects,  he 
began  the  recital  of  a  thrilling  scene,  in 
which  he  was  an  inactive,  though  not  un- 
concerned spectator,  and  had  already  reach- 
ed the  most  exciting  part,  holding  his  lis- 
teners breathless  with  interest,  when  Ted- 
dy entered  the  apartment  in  haste,  ex- 
claiming: 

"Your  honor--"  Then  pausing  as  he  saw 
who  were  present,  and  making  a  low  bow 
— '•'  Beg  pardon,  ladies!  My  most  obedi- 
ent respicts  to  all  o'  yees,  by  token  I've 
eaan  yees  afore." 

"  Well,  well,  Teddy — have  they  come?" 
inquired  I,  impatiently. 

"  Troth,  and  they  has,  your  honor!  and 
that's  jist  what  Fs  a-going  to  say,  whin 
the  likes  o'  so  many  beauthiful  females  put 
me  out  a  bit  " 

"  And  where  are  they  now,  Teddy?" 

"  Jist  round  the  corner,  as  ye  may  say." 

"  Remain  here,  and  I  will  soon  set  Prai- 
rie Flower  before  you,"  said  I,  addressing 
the  olliers,  who  were  now  all  excitement 
to  behold  my  fair  friend. 

And  I  hurried  from  the  cot,  followed  by 
Teddy. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PRAIRIE  FLOWER — HER   APPEARANCE — EMO- 
TIONS  INTRODUCTION — THE  SURPRISE 

THE  LIKENESS — A  THRILLING  SCENE — A 
mother's  FEELINGS — WILD  INTERROGA- 
TIONS— STARTLING  DENOUEMENT. 

I  found  Prairie  Flower  sealed  upon  her 
little  pony,  in  company  with  her  Indian 
friends,  pale  and  agitated,  but  looking,  if 
any  thing,  more  beautiful  than  ever.  She 
wore  a  plain  neat  dress,  without  ornament, 
which  fitted  her  person  well,  and  displayed 
her  airy,  symmetrica!  figure  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage. Her  dark  glossy  hair  was  braid- 
ed and  arranged,  if  not  a  la  mode,  at  least 
in  most  exquisite  taste;  and  altogether  her 
appearance  was  such  as  could  not  offend 
the  searching  gaze  of  the  most  fastidious 
critic.  All  trace  of  the  Indian  was  gone; 
and  gazing  upon  her  sweet,  modest  coun- 
tenance, one  could  hardly  realize  her  life, 
for  the  most  part,  had  been  spent  in  the 
wilderness,  among  the  red  children  of  the 
forest. 

"  And  how  fares  my  fair  friend  this 
morning!"  I  said,  with  a  smile,  as  I  came 
up. 

"  But  indifferently  well,"  she  answered, 
dismounting. 

"  I  fear  you  did  not  rest  well  last  night?" 

"  I  did  noi  rest  at  all,"  she  replied.  "How 
could  I  rest,  sir,  with  such  momentous 
thoughts  as  kept  me  company?  O,  sir," 
she  added,  vehemently,  placing  her  hand 
upon  her  heart;  "  here,  here  were  strange 
feelings,  strange  emotions,  strange  yearn- 
ings— but  all  powerful  as  strange — and 
they  kept  my  senses  from  slumber.  Every 
nerve  was  then  strained,  and  1  felt  strong. 
But  now — I  am  weak — vpry  weak;"  and  as 
she  spoke,  she  rested  her  hand  on  the  neck 
of  her  little  pony  for  support. 

"  Come!"  I  said,  advancinnr  to  her  side, 
"take  my  arm,  and  I  will  conduct  you  hence. 
It  is  intense  excitement  which  so  unnerves 
you;  but  you  must  not  give  way  to  it.  It 
is  necessary,  for  the  present,  that  you  be 
calm,  and  do  not  lose  your  wonted  presence 
of  mind." 

"  .\nd  whither  would  you  conduct  me?" 
g!ie  timidly  inquired. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


83 


"  Within  this  humble  cottage." 

"  And — and — are  they  there — of — of 
whom  you  spoke]"  she  fairly  gasped. 

"  Ay!  they  await  your  presence  to  thank 
you  for  all  your  kindness." 

"  And  do — do — they  hnow?'"  she  said, 
emphasising  the  last  word,  clasping  my 
hand,  and  fixing  her  dark  eyes,  with  a  sin- 
gular expression,  upon  mine. 

''They  know  nothing,  Prairie  Flower, 
but  that  you  are  the  author  of  many  noble 
deeds,  for  which  they  are  your  debtors,  and 
for  which  they  are  anxious  to  return  you 
heartfelt  thanks.  My  friend  and  I  thought 
it  best  to  bring  you  together,  without  even 
hinting  our  surmises." 

"  It  was  a  happy  thought  in  you,"  she 
replied, with  some  reassurance;"  I  am  glad 
you  did  so;  I  am  glad  they  know  nothing; 
end  I  will  try  to  be  calm  and  appear  indif- 
ferent. But,  sir,  believe  me !  this  is  a  great 
trial,  I  have  been  used  to  danger  all  my 
life.  I — t'lough  you  may  think  it  strange, 
for  I  have  never  told  it  you  before — have 
even  stood  upon  the  field  of  carnage,  where 
the  fierce  battle  raged,  and  the  deadly  mis- 
siles were  whirling  past  me,  fairly  hissing 
in  my  ear,  and  there  have  striven  to  succor 
the  wounded.  I  have  had  my  life  in  dan- 
ger many  times,  u'hen  I  believed  every  mo- 
ment would  be  my  last.  I  have,  for  my 
years,  seen  much  hardship  and  peril — but 
never,  sir,  a  moment  like  the  present — 
never  a  time  when  I  felt  my  soul  shrink 
within  me,  and  refuse  to  do  my  bidding  as 
now — never  a  time  when  I  had  less  self- 
command  and  felt  I  needed  it  more.  I  am 
about  to  enter  the  presence  of  those  whose 
blood,  perchance,  runs  in  my  veins;  and 
the  doubts — the  uncertainty — the  hopes 
and  fears,  which  are  based  upon  this  bare 
possibility,  are  mighty  in  their  strength. 
O,  sir!  such  feelings — such  wild,  strange 
feelings  as  rush  over  me  at  the  thought, 
are  beyond  the  utterance  of  mortal  tongue 
— words  could  not  express  them.  But  I 
will  say  no  more.  I  keep  them  waiting. 
I  will  nerve  myself.     I  am  ready." 

"  But  perhaps  your  friends  here  had 
better  wait  till  this  first  interview  is 
over." 

•'  True,"  she  said,  "  they  must  not  wit- 
ness it;"  and  turning,  she  addressed  a  few 


words  to  them,  and  then  signified  that  she 
was  ready. 

At  this  moment  my  eye  fell  upon  sever- 
al of  the  villagers,  who  were  sauntering  to- 
wards us,  attracted,  some  of  them  perhaps 
by  curiosity,  and  others  by  the  news  of  my 
arrival.  As  I  did  not  care  to  see  any  at 
present,  I  said  a  word  to  Prairie  Flower, 
and  we  hastened  our  steps  to  the  thresh- 
hold  of  the  cottage. 

"Courage!"  I  whispered,  and  led  her  in 
with  a  faltering  step. 

All  eyes  were  instantly  fastened  upon 
her;  and  the  involuntary  exclamation  from 
more  than  one  was,  "How  beautiful!" 
Prairie  Flower,  pale  and  trembling, 
could  not  return  their  gaze,  but  sunk  her 
own  to  the  ground. 

"My  friends,"  I  said,  "  I  herewith  pre- 
sent you  our  fair  benefactress,  to  whom 
two  of  us  at  least,  if  not  all  present,  are 
indebted  for  our  lives.  This  is  the  Prairie 
Flower  of  whom  I  spoke;  and  taking  slight 
liberty  with  her  name,  I  may  be  permitted 
to  term  her  the  Flower  of  the  Wilder- 
ness." 

As  I  spoke,  each  of  the  ladies  rose  and 
advanced  to  meet  her — but  Lilian  was  the 
first  to  gain  her  side.  With  a  quick  step 
she  came  forward,  and  taking  the  inactive 
hands  of  Prairie  Flower  in  her  own,  said 
in  a  bland,  frank,  affectionate  tone: 

"  Welcome,  sweet  maiden,  to  the  home 
of  those  who  already  love  you  for  your 
many  virtues.     I  have- — " 

At  this  moment  Prairie  Flower  raised 
her  eyes  to  those  of  the  speaker,  whose 
countenance  suddenly  changed  to  a  look 
of  bewildered  surprise,  and  taking  a  step 
backward,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  ejac- 
ulated: 

"  Good  heavens!  how  remarkable!" 

"  The  charm  works,"  whispered  I  to  my 
friend,  who  had  silently  joined  me. 

He  pressed  my  hand  nervously,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Yes,  welcome  to  our  humble  abode, 
Prairie  Flower!"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  in  a 
kindly  tone,  who,  her  gaze  rivited  upon 
the  fair  maiden,  had  not  as  yet  noticed  the 
surprifcie  and  agitation  of  her  daughter. 
"Eh!  what!  how!"  she  added  the  next 
moment,  as  the  dark  eyes  of  Prairie  Flow- 


84 


LENI-LEOTI: 


er  in  turn  rested  upon  hers;  and  she  glanc- 
ed quickly  toward  Eva,  Madame  Mortimer 
and  Lilian,  and  then  back  again  upon  Prai- 
rie Flower,  as  if  uncertain  what  to  think 
or  how  to  act. 

"  I  thank  you — for — for — your  kind- 
ness!" faltered  Prairie  Flower,  again  drop- 
ping her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  evidently 
scarcely  able  to  support  herself  from  sink- 
ing. 

At  the  moment  Mrs.  Huntly  spoke,  Eva 
had  extended  her  hand  within  a  step  of 
Prairie  Flower,  and  her  lips  were  just  part- 
ed to  utter  a  welcome,  when  the  same  look 
which  had  surprised  the  former,  arrested 
her  motions  and  held  her  spell-bound,  as 
if  suddenly  transformed  to  a  statue  of  mar- 
ble. But  it  was  Madame  Mortimer  which 
now  fixed  my  whole  attention.  She  had 
come  up  a  little  beiiind  the  others,  with  an 
expression  of  patronizing,  benevolent  cu- 
riosity on  her  line,  matronly  features.  The 
first  glance  at  Prairie  Flower  had  changed 
the  idle  look  of  curiosity,  to  one  of  sur- 
prise and  interest  at  her  maiden  beauty, 
and  the  absence  of  that  distinguishing 
mark  of  the  Indian  which  she  had  expect- 
ed to  find.  Tiie  next  moment  she  evident- 
ly became  struck  with  her  strong  resem- 
blance to  Eva,  which  had  so  surprised 
each  of  the  others;  and  a  sudden  vague, 
wild  thought — a  suspicion — a  something 
undefinable — rushed  over  her  halt  bewil- 
dered brain;  and  her  features  grew  ashy 
pale,  her  bosom  heaved,  and  her  very 
lips  turned  white  with  internal  emo- 
tions. But  it  was  when  Prairie  Flow- 
er spoke,  you  should  have  seen  her.  There 
was  something  in  that  voice,  that  seemed 
to  thrill  every  nerve,  and  then  take  away 
all  power  of  motion — suspend  every  ani- 
mal function.  At  the  first  sound,  she  lean- 
ed a  little  forward,  one  hand,  unconsciously 
as  it  were,  stretched  toward  the  speaker, 
and  the  other  instinctively  clasping  her 
forehead;  wliiie  the  blood  rushing  upward 
crimsoned  her  features,  and  then  retreat- 
ing to  her  heart,  left  them  paler  than  ever. 
Her  lips  parted,  her  eyes  seemed  starting 
from  their  sockets,  her  heaving  breast 
ceased  its  throbbing,  and  she  stood  trans- 
fixed to  the  ground,  motionless  and  mute, 
apparently  without  life,  or  only  that  life 


of  surprised  and  bewildered  inaction, 
which  the  master  sculptor  of  the  passions 
sometimes  transfuses  into  the  otherwise 
inanimate  object  of  his  creation.  It  was  a 
strange  and  impressive  picture,  and  one 
that  would  have  made  the  fortune  and  fame 
of  any  artist  who  could  have  accurately 
transferred  it  to  canvas.  A  momentary 
silence  prevailed — a  deathly  silence — that 
seemingly  had  in  it  the  awful  calm  pre- 
ceding the  friglitful  tempest.  For  a  brief 
space  no  one  moved — no  one  spoke — and, 
I  may  add,  no  one  breathed;  for  the  inter- 
nal excitement  had  suspended  respiration. 
There  they  stood,  as  I  have  described  them, 
a  wonderful  group — sweet  Prairie  Flower, 
as  the  central  figure  and  object  of  inter- 
est, the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and,  if  I  may 
be  permitted  the  expression,  the  very  soul 
of  all  thought.  Just  behind  Prairie  Flow- 
er stood  Huntly,  my  hand  clasped  in  his 
and  suffering  from  its  pressure. 

Madame  Mortimer  was  the  first  to  move 
— the  first  to  break  the  silence.  Sudden- 
ly taking  a  step  forward  between  Mrs. 
Huntly  and  Eva,  and  clasping  her  hands 
before  her,  her  eyes  still  riveted  upon  Prai- 
rie Flower,  she  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse  whis- 
per, that  had  something  sepulchral  in  its 
sound: 

"  Merciful  God!  who  are  you]  Speak! 
speak!     In  Heaven's  name,  who  are  you]" 

Prairie  Flower  looked  up  wildly,  clasp- 
ed her  hands,  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the 
other,  and  trembled  violently,  but  said  no- 
thing. 

"  Who  are  you]"  cried  Madame  Morti- 
mer again.  "  For  God's  sake,  speak!  and 
break  this  terrible  spell  of  painful,  be- 
wildering uncertainty!  Speak!  I  charge 
you, speak!" 

But  the  lips  of  Prairie  Flower  gave  no 
answer. 

"  Speak  you!"  continued  Madame  Mor- 
timer, wildly,  appealing  to  me:  "  Speak 
any!  speak  all!  but  speak  somebody!  and 
tell  me  I  am  not  in  a  dreajn — a  dream  from 
which  it  would  be  terrible  to  wake  and 
know  it  but  a  dream." 

"  You  do  not  dream,"  said  I;  "  and,  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe,  are  stand- 
ing in  the  presence  of " 

"  Who]"  she  screamed,  interrupting  me. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


85 


"  Your  long  lost  daughter!" 

"  Ah!"  she  shrieked:  "  God  of  mercy!  I 
thought  so!"  and  staggering  forward,  she 
threw  out  her  arms,  fell  heavily  upon  the 
breast  of  Prairie  Flower,  and  swooned  in 
her  embrace. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CONFUSION — MADAME   MORTIMER    RESTORED 

SECOND     INTERVIEW    OF     MOTHER   AND 

DAUGHTER THE     GRATEFUL     PRAYER 

FEARS  OF  PRAIRIE  FLOWER — DOUBTS    RE- 
MOVED  LIGHT  CONVERSATI0N A  STROLL 

— OLD  ACQUAINTANCES — OREGON   CITY 

love's  MISGIVINGS — RETURN  tO  THE  COT- 
TAGE. 

To  describe  minutely  what  occurred  du- 
ring the  first  half  hour  after  this  singular 
neeting  between  mother  and  daughter,  is 
wholly  beyond  my  power — for  I  was  too 
much  excited  myself  to  note  any  thing 
distinctly.  For  a  time  all  was  uproar  and 
confusion — persons  running  to  and  fro, 
calling  for  this  thing  and  that,  and  utter- 
ing exclamations  of  terror,  surprise  and 
bewilderment. 

Meantime  Madame  Mortimer  was  borne 
in  an  unconscious  state  to  an  adjoining 
apartment,  where  such  restoratives  as  could 
be  had  were  speedily  applied,  for  a  long 
time  without  success;  while  Prairie  Flow- 
er, more  dead  than  alive,  was  conducted  to 
a  seat,  where  Eva,  the  first  alarm  for  her 
mother  over,  flew  to  embrace  her,  to  twine 
her  arms  around  her  neck,  call  her  "  Dear, 
dear  sister!"  and  weep  and  laugh  alternate- 
ly as  one  insane.  Lilian  and  Mrs.  Hunt- 
ly  seemed  completely  bewildered;  and 
were  now  with  Madame  Mortimer,  and 
anon  with  Prairie  Flower,  aiding  the  re- 
covery of  the  one,  wondering  over  the 
other,  and  continually  uttering,  "  How 
strange!  how  strange!"  Charles,  pale  as 
a  corpse,  had  sunk  upon  a  seat,  and  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  sat  in  silence; 
while  I,  after  running  up  and  down  the 
room  several  times,  found  myself,  much  to 
my  surprise,  alone  in  the  center  of  the 
apartment  and  dancing;  for  very  joy. 


At  last  every  thing  began  to  assume  a 
more  tranquil  and  sane  appearance.  Prai- 
rie Flower  found  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a 
flood  of  tears  upon  the  breast  of  Eva,  who, 
as  she  put  in  now  and  then  a  soothing 
word,  begging  the  other  to  be  calm,  min- 
gled her  own  with  her  sister's;  while  Lili- 
an and  her  mother  wept  in  sympathy  of 
joy,  and  my  own  eyes,  by  the  spontaneous 
action  of  an  overflowing  soul,  would,  in 
spite  of  myself,  occasionally  grow  dim. — 
Madame  Mortimer,  loo,  gradually  regained 
her  senses,  and  looking  hurriedly  about 
her,  anxiously  inquired  for  her  long  lost 
daughter.  Prairie  Flower  was  at  once 
conducted  to  her  side,  whither  we  all  fol- 
lowed to  witness  the  interview. 

For  something  like  a  minute,  Madame 
Mortimer  gazed  upon  her  daughter  without 
speaking,  during  which  her  fea:tures  display- 
ed all  the  varying  expressions  of  a  mother's 
tender,  yearning  love  for  a  long  lost  child. 

"  'Tis  she!"  at  length  escaped  her  lips, 
in  that  deep  tone  by  which  the  very  soul 
gives  utterance:  "'Tis  she!  the  long-lost 
— the  sadly-wept — the  deeply-mourned. — 
Yes,  'tis  she — there  is  no  mistaking  those 
features.  The  lost  is  found — the  dead  re- 
stored to  life."  Then  pausing,  clasping 
her  hands  and  looking  upward,  she  added: 
"  God!  all  merciful,  all  wise,  and  all  just — 
for  this  I  thank  thee,  from  the  inner  depths 
of  a  grateful  heart!  This  day's  happiness, 
O  God!  hath  cancelled  long  years  of  suf- 
fering and  sorrow;  and  henceforth  the 
study  of  rny  life  shall  be  to  glorify  thy 
name." 

During  this  brief,  solemn,  but  heart-felt 
offering  of  gratitude  to  the  Great  Author 
of  the  universe,  Prairie  Flower  gradually 
sank  upon  her  knees  beside  the  bed  where- 
on the  speaker  was  lying,  and  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands,  appeared  lost  in  si- 
lent devotion.  This  over,  she  arose,  and 
gazing  upon  Madame  Mortimer  a  moment, 
with  a  look  of  unutterable  affection,  utter- 
ed the  single  word  "  Mother!"  threw  her- 
self upon  the  breast  of  the  latter,  was 
strained  to  her  heart,  and  the  tears  of  both 
mingled. 

It  was  a  touching  scene,  and  one  that 
needs  no  comment  from  me. 

"  And  now,  my  sweet  child,"  said  Ma- 


86 


LENI-LEOTI: 


damo  Mortimer,  pressing  her  lips  warmly 
to  the  other's,  "  my  long  lost  Evuline  Mor- 
timer— for  by  that  name,  which  you  bore 
in  infancy,  you  must  henceforth  be  known 
— tell  me  something  of  yourself,  and  how 
you  came  to  be  found  among  the  Indians!' 
Prairie  Flower — or  Evaline,  as  I  will 
hereafter  term  her — started,  turned  pale 
and  sighed  heaviiy,  but  did  not  reply.  At 
once  I  comprehended  her  thoughts  and 
hastened  to  relieve  her;  for  I  saw  in  her 
look  a  secret  dread,  lest  theunrevealed  se- 
cret in  her  possession  might  even  now  dash 
the  cup  of  joy  from  her  lips,  by  proving 
her  the  child  of  another. 

"  She  knows  but  little  of  her  own  his- 
tory," I  began,  and  then  went  on  to  re- 
count our  first  suspicions  as  to  who  she 
might  be,  and  what  followed,  up  to  her 
finding  the  hidden  box,  which  probably 
contained  a  statement  of  the  facts,  but 
which  she,  for  reasons  explained,  had  not 
yet  examined. 

"  Alas!"  sighed  Evaline,  "  and  that  is 
what  troubles  me  now.  I  fear  there  may 
have  been  some  mistake;  and  if,  oh  God! 

there  be " 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  my 
ehild!"  interrupted  Madame  Mortimer; 
"  for  you  are  my  child,  I  feel  and  know; 
and  for  my  own  satisfaction,  would  never 
seek  other  proof  than  what  I  have — your 
likeness  to  Eva,  and  a  mother's  yearnings. 
But  if  you  have  any  doubts,  examine  your 
left  arm,  and  you  there  will  find  a  scar,  in 
the  form  of  a  quarter  moon,  which  was 
impressed  upon  Evaline  Mortimer  in  in- 
fancy." 

Evaline  stirted,  and  hurriedly  bared  her 
arm  with  a  trembling  hand.  We  all  press- 
ed forward  to  examine  it.  There,  sure 
enough!  just  below  the  elbow,  the  identi- 
cal scar  could  be  traced — dim,  it  is  true, 
but  still  the  scar  of  the  quarter  moon. 

Evaline  gazed  upon  it  a  moment,  faint 
and  pale  with  joyful  emotions,  and  then 
turning  her  soft,  dark  eyes  above,  with  the 
sublime  look  of  a  saint,  and  clasping  her 
hands, said  solemnly: 
"God!  I  thank  thee!" 
•'  My  sister — my  sweet,  long  lost  sister!" 
said  Eva  affectionately,  gently  twining  her 
arms  around  the  neck  of  the  other  and 


gazing  upward  also—-"  I,  too,  thank  God 
for  this!" 

Evaline  turned,  clasped  the  other  in  her 
arnis,  and  falling  upon  each  other's  neck, 
the  beautiful  twin  sisters  wept  in  each 
other's  embrace. 

"  What  a  singular  meeting  is  this!"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Huntly  to  Madame  Mortimer, 
who  now  completely  recovered  arose  from 
the  bed.  "And  how  remarkable,  that 
both  you  and  I  should  have  a  long  lost 
child  restored  to  us  at  the  same  time!" 

"  Ay,"  answered  the  other,  "  God  some- 
times W'Orks  in  wondera,  and  this  is  one. 
But  not  the  least  retnarkable  of  all  is  the 
fact,  that  some  years  since  your  son  saved 
the  life  of  my  daughter,  and  subsequently 
my  daughter  saved  the  life  of  your  son 
— though  each  at  the  time  wholly  un- 
known to  the  other,  with  no  apparent  con- 
nection between  the  two  striking  events. 
The  good  we  do  returns  to  us,  as  the  evil 
of  our  life  often  falls  heavily  upon  our 
heads.  Ihave  experienced  both;"  and  she 
sighed  heavily.  "But  come,  my  daugh- 
ter," she  added,  turning  to  Evaline,  "  you 
have  friends  with  you  vvhom  we  have  long 
kept  waiting.  We  must  now  entertain 
them,  or  they  will  think  themselves  slight- 
ed, and  with  good  reason.  When  every 
thinor  is  properly  arranged  and  settled,  we 
will  have  those  secret  documents  produced 
and  hear  your  tale." 

As  she  spoke,  she  led  the  way  to  the 
larger  apartment. 

"  Charley,"  I  whispered,  "  I  fear  we  have 
forgotten  to  congratulate  Prairie  Flower 
on  the  happy  termination  of  this  interview 
and  change  of  name!" 

He  pressed  my  hand  and  answered: 

"  You  must  be  spokesman,  then — for  at 
present  I  am  unable  to  express  my  feel- 
ings." 

"  Be  it  so — but  you  must  accompany 
me;"  and  advancing  to  Prairie  Flower,  I 
took  her  hand  and  said: 

"  r  give  you  joy,  Evaline  Mortimer! — 
and  so  does  my  friend  here,  though  at  pre- 
sent too  bashful  to  say  it." 

Both  Huntly  and  Evaline  blushed  and 
became  embarrassed.  But  quickly  recov- 
ering herself,  the  latter  returned: 

"  I  thank  you — thank  you  both — from 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


87 


my  heart.  But  for  you,  this  might  never 
have  been;"  and  her  eyes  instantly  filled 
with  grateful  tears. 

"  But  for  you,  dear  Evaline,"  rejoined  I, 
"  wc  might  iiever  have  been  here.  The 
obligation  is  on  our  side — we  are  the 
debtors." 

"Prairie  Flower,"  began  Huntly, taking 
the  disengaged  hand  and  making  an  eflort 
to  command  himself — "  Or  rather,  I  should 
say,  Evaline — I — I Well,  you  under- 
stand! Imagine  alll  would  say — for  just 
now  I  can  say  nothing." 

"Bravo,  Charley!"  said  I,  laughing  and 
giving  him  a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Bravo,  my  dear  fellow!  Spoken  like 
yourself!" 

"Hush!"  he  returned,  with  a  gesture  of 
displeasure;  "  do  not  jest  with  me  now, 
Frank!" 

Meantime  I  noticed  that  Eva  and  Lilian 
watched  the  features  of  both  Evaline  and 
Charles  closely,  and  then  whispered  to  each 
other,  and  smiled,  and  again  looked  earn- 
estly at  each. 

The  secret  is  out,  thought  I. 

At  this  moment  Madame  Mortimer,  ob- 
serving us  together,  approached  and  ad- 
dressed my  friend   with  a  bland  smile: 

"  Said  I  not,  Charles,  that  the  heroine 
of  this  life-romance  must  necessarily  be  a 
personage  of  consequence?" 

"  And  I  am  rejoiced  your  words  are  veri- 
fied,"   was  the  reply. 

"Thank  you!  and  thank  God,  I  have 
found  them  verified  in  a  way  I  little  ex- 
pected! But  all  heroines,  you  know,  must 
fall  in  love!"  she  added,  laughing.  "  How 
is  it  in  the  present  case,  eh?' 

"  It  turns  out  on  the  most  approved 
plan,"  I  answered  pointedly,  glancing  at 
both  Charles  and  Evaline,  who,  judging 
from  their  looks,  wished  themselves  for 
the  moment  any  where  but  where  they 
stood. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the 
good  dame. 

"  And  how  is  it  with  you,  Eva?"  I  asked, 
playfully. 

"  Why,  I  suppose  I  must  resign  all  pre- 
tensions," she  replied,  in  her  wonted  light 
tone.  "  Of  course  I  was  anxious  to  make 
a  conquest — as  what  young  lady  is  notl 


But  I  see  there  is  no  chance  for  mc,"  she 
pursued,  glancing  slyly  at  my  friend;  "  and 
so  I  will  e'en  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
pretend  I  don't  care  any  thing  about 
it,  and,  heigh-ho!  hx)k  some  where  else, 
wiih  the  old  motto, 'Better  luck  next  time.' 
Ay,"  she  added,  springing  to  the  blushing 
Evaline,  and  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  sweet 
lips,  "  ]  am  too  happy  in  finding  a  sister, 
to  mourn  long  for  a  lover — more  especially 
if  a  certain  somebody  (again  glancing  at 
Charles,)  has  any  design  of  becoming  a 
relation." 

•' Well  said!"  I  rejoined.  "And  now, 
Charley—" 

"  Hist!"  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  and 
dragginof  me  away.  "  Come,"  he  added, 
"  let  us  take  a  stroll;"  and  arm-in-arm  we 
quitted  the  cottage. 

Considerable  of  a  crowd  had  already 
collected  around  our  Indian  friends,  and 
were  listening  to  a  story  from  Teddy,  who, 
as  he  privately  expressed  himself  to  me, 
"  Was  in  all  the  glory  of  making  the 
spalpeens  belave  himself  and  us  the  he- 
roes of  a  hundred  mighthy  fights,  and 
bathels,  and  scrimmages,  and  hair-length 
escapes,  and  thim  things." 

Among  the  number  present,  I  recognis- 
ed several  of  my  old  acquaintances,  who 
appeared  much  delighted  to  see  me,  and  to 
whom  I  introduced  my  long  lost  friend. 
After  the  usual  commonplace  observations 
were  over,  I  turned  to  Teddy,  and  gave 
him  instruotions  to  conduct  the  Indiana 
into  the  cottage  forthwith,  and  then  see  to 
having  their  horses  well  taken  care  of. 
This  done,  Huntly  and  I  sauntered  down 
through  the  village,  to  note  the  improve- 
ments, and  talk  over  the  important  events 
of  the  last  few  hours. 

As  Lilian  remarked  I  would,  I  found  the 
village  of  Oregon  City  greatly  altered  for 
the  better,  and  that  it  had  already  begun 
to  assume  the  appearance  of  a  thriving 
settlement.  During  the  past  season  there 
had  been  a  large  influx  of  population  from 
the  east,  the  effects  of  which  were  every 
where  visible  in  new  dwellings  and  work- 
shops. Some  three  br  four  merchants 
had  come  on  with  goods,  opened  stores, 
and  were  now  doing  a  thriving  business, 
in  disposing  of  their  commodities  at  the 


88 


LENI-LEOTI: 


most  extravagant  prices.  A  grist-mill 
and  saw-mill  had  also  been  erected  on  the 
Williamette,  and  were  now  in  active  ope- 
ration— the  former  grinding  out  the  staff 
of  life,  and  the  latter  supplying  such  of  the 
settlers  as  desired  habitations  superior  to 
log  cabins,  with  the  necessary  materials 
for  more  finished  building.  Here  and 
there  were  the  workshops  of  the  carpen- 
ter, blacksmith,  saddler,  shoemaker  and 
tailor — and,  in  short,  every  thing  neces- 
sary apparently  to  a  business  place. 

Strolling  down  to  the  Williamette,  we 
halted  upon  a  bluff  overlooking  the  roman- 
tic stream,  .and,  as  chance  would  have  it, 
upon  the  very  spot  where  I  had  offered  my 
hand  to  Lilian. 

"Here,  Charley,"  said  I,  "  is  ground 
which  to  me  is  sacred.  Can  you  not 
guess  from  what  cause]" 

He  only  answered  by  pressing  my  arm 
and  heaving  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Come,"  added  I,  smiling,  "  a  wager  I 
can  guess  your  thoughts!" 
"Well,  say  on." 
"  You  are  thinking  of  Evaline." 
He  changed  color  and  sighed: 
"  Well!" 

"  And  now  you  begin  to  hare  doubts 
that  all  may  not  terminate  as  you  desire!" 
"  You  are  good  at  guessing,"  he  rejoin- 
ed, o-azing  solemnly  down  upon  the  current 
below. 

"Courage,  man!"  rejoined  I.  "Never 
despair  on  the  point  of  victory!" 

"  Ah!"  he  sighed,  "  if  I  could  be  assured 
of  that." 

"Assured,  Charley!  What  more  as- 
surance would  you  have!  She  loves  you, 
I  will  vouch  for  that;  and  now  that  the 
mystery  hanging  over  her  early  life  is 
cleared  up,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  be 
yourself  and  ask  her  hand." 

"  Do  you  think  so!"  he  cried,  suddenly 
confronting  me  with  an  eager  look.  "  Do 
you  think  so,  Frank!" 

"  Do  I  think  so!"  I  repeated.     "Why, 
man,  where  is  your  wonted  assurance!  Do 
I  think  so!  No!  I  do  not  think — I  know!" 
"  But  I — I — some  how — I  have  my  mis- 
givings." 

"  Pshaw!  my  friend — love's  misgivings 
only.     Ifyouhadnot  these,  I  should  put 


it  down  as  a  solemn  fact  that  you  did  no^ 
love.  She  has  her  misgivings,  too — but 
they  spring  from  the  same  source  as  yours, 
and  amount  to  exactly  the  same  thing — 
that  is,  nothing.  Why,  how  you  have 
changed!  You  are  as  timid  as  a  schoolboy 
at  his  first  public  declamation,  and  trem- 
ble more  in  the  presence  of  one  beautiful 
being,  than  you  did  in  the  clutches  of  a 
fierce  banditti.  Throw  aside  this  foolish 
bashfulness,  and  act  like  a  sensible  fellow. 
There  is  nothing  so  very  alarming  in  tell- 
ing a  young  maiden  you  love  and  adore 
her,  when  you  once  set  yourself  about  it. 
I  have  tried  it,  and  speak  from  experience. 
Once,  I  remember,  you  talked  the  matter 
of  matrimony  over  as  deliberately  as  if 
making  a  bargain  and  sale — purchasing  or 
transfering  property." 

"  Ay,"  he  answered,  musingly,  "  but  it 
was  merely  talk  then — now  it  is  quite  a 
different  thing.  If — if — she  should  re- 
fuse  " 

"Nonsense!"  interrupted  I,  laughing; 
and  then  added,  imitating  him:     If — if — 

you  should  refuse,  why " 

"  Cease!"  he  exclaimed,  almost  angrily. 
"  Why  will  you  be  ever  jesting,  Frank!" 
"  That  I  may  bring  you  to  sober  earn- 
est, Charley." 

In  like  conversation  we  whiled  away  an 
hour  or  two,  and  then  returned  to  the  cot- 
tage— Huntly  in  a  better  flow  of  spirits 
than  I  had  seen  him  for  many  a  day. 

The  news  of  our  arrival — the  restora- 
tion of  a  long  lost  daughter  to  the  arms  of 
her  mother — together  with  exaggerted  and 
marvellous  reports  of  the  whole  affair,  had 
already  made  the  dwelling  of  Mrs.  Huntly 
a  place  of  attraction  to  the  villagers, 
whom  we  here  found  collected  in  goodly 
numbers  of  both  sexes.  In  fact,  the  house 
was  thronged  through  the  day,  and  both 
Huntly  and  myself  were  kept  busy  in  re- 
counting our  exploits  to  curious  and  eager 
listeners. 

Night,  however,  came  at  last,  and  with 
its  approach  departed  our  visiters,  much 
to  our  relief  and  gratification. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


89 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   TALE   OF    EVALINE     MORTIMER — BRIEF 
HISTORY    OF     THE    MYSTERIOUS   TRIBE — 


omit  a  translation,  and  tell  the  story  in  my 
own  way,  and  thus  in  a  more  direct  form 
bring  to  bear  all  the  knowledge  I  have  re- 
garding myself  and  those  with  whom  my 


THEIR  PERSECUTION,  MASSACRE,  FLIGHT,   fortune  has  been  linked. 


PROSPERITY  AND  ADVERSITY — MORE  MYS- 
TERY  SPECULATIONS  OF  MADAME  MORTI- 
MER— EARLY  IMPRESSIONS  OF   EVALISE 

HER  EDUCATION ROVING    LIFE,  ETC. 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  nightfall,  that, 
every  thing  having  become  quiet,  we  form- 
ed a  pleasant  circle  before  a  bright  fire,  in 
the  dwelling  of  Mrs.  Huntly,  to  hear  the 
tale  of  Evaline  Mortimer.  Throughout 
the  day,  all  had  been  too  busy  in  entertain- 
ing guests  to  attend  to  private  affairs;  but 
now  the  transient  visiters  had  departed, 
and  none  were  by  to  listen  save  those  most 
deeply  interested.  Evaline,  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  had  managed  to  steal  away  for 


*'  My  earliest  impressions  are  of  Great 
Medicine  and  the  Indians  with  whom  he 
was  associated.  Of  his  early  history  I 
could  never  learn  any  thing  authentic.  It 
was  current  with  the  tribe,  that  he  had 
come  from  afar,  had  formerly  been  a  great 
chief,  and  \^s  now  the  sole  remnant  ol 
his  race,  ^me  twelve  or  fifteen  years 
prior  to  the  period  I  speak  of — or  say  a 
little  more  than  thirty  years  ago — he  had 
appeared  among  the  various  tribes  then 
located  in  one  of  the  more  eastern  terri- 
tories, and  had  brought  with  him  three 
white  missionaries  of  the  Moravian  school, 
who  at  once  set  to  work  to  convert  the 
savages  to  the  Christian  faith.     The  influ- 


an  hour,  during  which  she  had  opened  her  I  ence  of  the  old  man — for  even  then  Great 
"  treasure-box,"  as  she  termed  it,  wherein!  Medicine  was  well  advanced  in  years — 
she  had  found  a  parchment  in  the  hand-wri-  tended  much  to  allay  the  vindictive  feel- 
ting  of  Great  Medicine,  whose  contents  she!  ino-s  which  the  savages  were  disposed  to 


had  eagerly  devoured,  and  the  substance 
of  which,  together  with  what  she  knew  of 
herself,  she  was  now  about  to  lay  before  us. 

"  Come,"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  after 
some  trifling  conversation  had  passed: 
'•'  Come,  dear  Evaline,  now  for  the  romance 
of  your  life!  We  are  all  eager  for  the 
story." 

"  And  when  I  have  told  it,"  said  Eva- 
line in  reply,  smiling  sweetly,  "  I  shall 
have  told  a  tale  to  which  no  mortal  ear 
has  ever  before  listened,  and  a  portion  of 
which  has  been  unknown  to  myself  till 
within  the  last  few  hours.  I  have  exam- 
ined the  record  of  Great  Medicine,  and 
find  much  therein  I  did  not  knov/  b<?fore; 
but  still,  with  all  the  knowledge  gained 


manifest  toward  his  white  friends,  and  to 
which  they  were  secretly  urged  on  by 
British  agents — this,  as  you  will  bear  in 
mind,  being  the  period  of  the  commence- 
ment of  hostilities  between  America  and 
Great  Britain.  The  result  of  the  matter 
was,  that  several  of  the  Indians  became 
converts  to  the  true  faith,  renounced  the 
barbarisms  of  their  ancestors,  and  threw 
down  their  war  implements  to  take  them 
up  no  more.  These  converts  were  of  va- 
rious tribes,  and  were  subsequently  by 
each  tribe  denounced  as  impostors  and 
coward  squaws,  and  persecuted  in  many 
cases  even  to  the  death — so  that  the  sur- 
vivors were  obliged  to  abandon  their  homes 
and  seek  safety  in  flight.  These  fugitives, 
therefrom,  I  should  have  remained  ignor- !  by  an  arrangement  of  Great  Medicine,  all 
ant  of  the  most  important  period  ot  my  I  gathered  together,  and  in  solemn  conclave 
history — important  to  me  at  least — but  for  |  formed  themselves  into  a  tribe,  of  which 
this  providential  meeting  with  my  dear  i  he  was  appointed  chief — or  rather  Great 
mother  and  sister,  the  former  of  whom  :  Medicine — for  the  title  of  chief  was  by 
can  perhaps  put  the  connecting  link  be-Uhem  abolished.  A  mode  of  worship  was 
tween  what  I  know  and  my  birth.  then  established,  of  which  several  songs, 

"  As  the  scroll  of  Great  Medicine  is  in  j  composed  by  the  missionaries,  formed  a 
a  language  to  you  unintelligible,  and  as  |  striking  feature,  and  made  the  ceremonies 
the  narration  on  the  whole  is  rather  d is- 1  more  impressive  than  they  might  other-- 

ftonnected,  I  will,  with  your  permission,  wise  have  been." 

6 


90 


LENI-LEOTI: 


"  And  these  Bongs,"  interrupted  I, 
"  were  the  same  you  once  translated  to 
me!" 

"  The  same,"  answered  the  sweet  nar- 
rator, "  with  the  exception  of  what  they 
may  have  gained  or  lost  by  the  peculiar 
dialect  finally  adopted  by  the  new-formed 
tribe.  The  ceremonies  of  this  tribe," 
she  continued,  "  were  not  all  establish- 
ed at  once,  and  may  now  differ  some- 
what from  those  of  the  time  in  question, 
though  the  same  I  believe  in  the  main 
features.  '  ^ 

"  As  the  Indian,  by  nature *and  associa- 
tion, is  peculiarly  fitted  to  believe  in  the 
marvellous,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
portion  of  this  reverence  for  the  supernatu- 
ral should  have  clung  to  those  of  the  new 
faith;  and  in  consequenceof  this,  Great  Me- 
dicine was  supposed  to  be  invested  with 
powers  beyond  the  mere  mortal.  Whether 
or  no  he  believed  this  of  himself,  I  am  un- 
able to  say;  but  certain  it  is,  he  took  care 
the  rest  should  think  so;  and  ever  excluding 
himself  from  the  tribe,  except  when  his 
presence  was  absolutely  necessary,  he  suc- 
ceeded by  his  peculiarities,  eccentricities, 
strange  incantations  and  the  like,  in  draw- 
ing around  himself  a  veil  of  mystery  which 
none  ever  presumed  to  penetrate.     On  the 
whole,  he  was  a  very  strange  being;  and 
though  all  loved,  all  feared  him;  and  none 
ever  knew  for  a  certainty  who  he  was  or 
whence   he  came.     If  one   presumed  to 
question  him,  it  was  only  for  once.     The 
silent  look  he  received  from  that  small  dark 
eye,  was  enough.     It  thrilled  and  over- 
awed him,  and  he  turned  away,  resolved 
never  to  question  again.     Even  I,  whom 
he  ever  treated  with  afTeciionate  care — 
who  was  constantly  admitted  to  his  pre- 
sence when  all  others  were  excluded — who 
had  the  advantage  of  being  with  him  in 
his  most  meditative   and   communicative 
moods — even  I,   was   never   made   wiser 
than  my  companions.     As  I  have  said  once 
before,  he  ever  remained  an  enigma  with- 
out a  solution.     Like  the  rest,  I  loved  and 
I   feared   him — with  this  difference,  per- 
haps— that  the  former  with  me  was  the 
stronger  of  the  two  passions.     But  to  re- 
turn from  this  slight  digressioti* 
"  The  tribe  organized  under  the  control 


of  Great  Medicine,  for  a  time  flourished 
well,  and  constantly  increased  by  new 
converts  from  the  neighboring  tribes.  But 
this  nearly  proved  its  overthrow.  The 
savages  at  last  became  jealous,  and  de- 
clared if  this  state  of  things  continued, 
their  villages  would  become  depopulated. 
They  swore  revenge,  and  took  it,  and  most 
dire  revenge  it  was.  They  made  a  de- 
scent upon  their  harmless  friends,  and  with 
ruthless  hands  slew  their  own  relatives, 
and  took  the  missionaries  captives,  whom 
they  afterwards  put  to  the  tortures.  It 
was  a  terrible  massacre — a  massacre  with- 
out resistance  on  the  part  of  the  victims, 
whose  peculiar  tenets  of  religion  forbade 
them  to  fight  even  in  defence  of  their 
lives.  Atone  fell  swoop  nearly  all  were  cut 
off.  None,  upon  whom  the  blood  thirsty  as- 
sailants laid  hands,  were  spared.  Women 
and  children — the  infant  at  the  breast — 
the  promising  youth  and  tender  maiden — 
the  man  in  the  prime  of  life  and  the  hoary- 
headed  veteran:  all  were  alike  victims — 
all  shared  one  common  fate — all  found  a 
bloody  grave." 

"What    a   terrible  scene!"  exclaimed 
Madame  Mortimer,  shuddering. 

"  Terrible!  terrible!"  echoed  Lilian  and 
Eva. 

"And  how  many  do  you  suppose  perish-, 
edl"  asked  Mrs.  Huntley. 

"I  cannot  say,"  answered  Evaline. 
"  All  I  know  is,  that  only  a  few  escaped 
— some  half  a  dozen  I  believe — among 
whom  was  Great  Medicine.  They  fled 
fast  and  far,  to  another  part  of  the  wil- 
derness, but  still  firm  in  that  faith  by 
which  they  had  been  so  sorely  tried. 
When  hundreds  of  miles  had  been  placed 
between  them  and  their  fierce  enemies, 
they  paused  in  their  flight,  and  select- 
ing a  pleasant  spot,  erected  a  few  huts, 
and  continued  their  devotions  as  before. 
Here  they  were  visited  by  other  tribes, 
who,  knowing  nothing  of  their  history, 
and  struck  with  their  peculiarities  and 
mode  of  worship,  treated  them  with  great 
respect  and  reverence,  and  called  them  the 
Wahsochee — equivalent  to  the  English 
word  Mysterious — by  which  name  and  the 
title  of  their  founder  they  have  ever  since 
been  known. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


91 


"  Here  Providence  again  favored  them, 
and  their  numbers  increased  very  rapidly. 
Their  fame  spread  far  and  wide  over  the 
vast  wilderness,  and  bold  warriors  from 
distant  tribes  came  to  see  them,  many  of 
whom  remained,  converts  to  their  faith. 
In  this  manner  the  Wahsochee  village 
again  became  populous;  and  the  different 
tribes,  though  at  deadly  enmity  with  one 
another,  all  concurred  in  respecting  and 
leaving  them  unmolested.  As  those  who 
joined  them  were  among  the  most  intelli- 
gent of  their  race,  and  as  these  were  from 
a  great  many  nations,  the  language  of 
each  was  gradually  introduced,  until,  be- 
sides a  dialect  of  their  own,  the  tribe  had 
the  advantage  of  understanding  that  of  al- 
most every  other  of  note. 

"  Thus  for  several  years  all  went  on 
prosperous,  and  their  number  had  augment- 
ed from  six  to  an  hundred  and  fifty,  when 
that  fatal  malady,  the  small-pox,  broke  out 
and  swept  off  four-fifths  of  the  nation. — 
From  this  awful  blow  they  never  fully  re- 
covered— at  least,  never  to  be  what  they 
were  before — for  man}'^  who  were  on  the 
point  of  joining  them,  were  deterred  by 
what  they  declared  to  be  the  angry  frown 
of  the  Great  Spirit;  and  although  other 
tribes  were  scourged  in  like  manner,  still 
the  more  superstitious  contended  that  the 
Wahsochee  religion  could  not  be^od,  or 
the  Great  Spirit  would  not  have  l^^n  an- 
gry with  them,  even  though  he  were  with 
their  neighbors. 

"  This  latter  affliction  occurred  some 
two  years  prior  to  my  being  brought  among 
them,  of  which  mysterious  event  I  shall 
now  proceed  to  speak,  as  I  find  it  recorded 
by  Great  Medicine  himself." 

"  Permit  me  a  word,  Evaline,  before  you 
proceed  farther!"  said  I,  interrupting  her. 
"  Since  you  have  briefly  given  the  history 
of  the  Mysterious  Tribe,  may  I  inquire 
why  it  was,  on  our  first  acquaintance,  you 
BO  strongly  insisted  I  should  question  you 
not  concerning  yourself  or  companions'?" 

"  In  the  first  place,"  she  answered, 
"  Great  Medicine  had  expressly  declared 
(and  his  word  was  law  with  us)  that  no- 
thing of  our  history  must  be  told  to  stran- 
gers, whose  desire  to  know,  as  a  general 
thing,  would  proceed  from  idle  curiosity, 


to  gratify  which  would  avail  us  nothing. 
In  the  second  place,  of  my  early  history  I 
was  ignorant — at  least  of  that  which  re- 
ferred to  my  parentage — and  to  be  ques- 
tioned, ever  caused  me  the  most  painful 
embarrassment;  besides,  of  what  I  did 
know,  I  had  promised  the  old  man  to  re- 
veal nothing.  I  knew  I  was  not  of  the 
Indian  race;  but  to  admit  this,  would  lead 
to  a  thousand  other  inquiries,  which  could 
not  be  answered,  and  which  I  felt  a  stran- 
ger had  no  right  to  make.  Are  you  an- 
swered]" J^ 

"  Fully  and  saipHPctorily.  Go  on  with 
your  story!" 

"  The  location  of  the  tribe,  at  the  pe- 
riod of  which  I  now  speak,"  proceeded 
Evaline,  "  was  near  the  Des  Moines  river, 
in  the  southern  part  of  that  territory  since 
known  as  Iowa.  While  the  tribe  remain- 
ed here,  it  was  customary  for  Great  Medi- 
cine to  make  a  journey  to  St.  Louis,  as  of- 
ten as  once  a  year,  to  trade  his  furs,  skins, 
embroidered  moccasins  and  the  like,  for 
powder,  lead,  beads,  blankets,  and  what- 
ever else  he  fancied  the  tribe  might  need. 
On  his  return  from  one  of  these  excur- 
sons,  (so  he  gives  the  story,)  and  when 
some  ten  miles  above  St.  Louis,  having 
fallen  behind  his  party,  he  was  overtaken 
by  a  fierce  looking  horseman,  who  bore  in 
his  arms  a  little  girl  some  two  or  three 
years  of  age,  and  who  at  once  accosting 
him  in  a  very  gruff  manner,  demanded 
whither  he  was  going.  This  horseman, 
he  says,  was  a  very  villainous  looking 
white  man,  who  wore  a  long  flowing  beard, 
had  a  black, fiery  eye,  was  short  in  stature, 
and  heavy  set. 

"On  hearing  the  reply  of  Great  Medi- 
cine, the  former  drew  a  pistol  and  dis- 
mounted, ordering  him  to  do  the  same. — 
Once,  he  writes,  he  would  have  shot  and 
scalped  the  bold  intruder  without  a  word; 
but  now  he  had  no  such  thoughts;  and  he 
obeyed  him  in  silence,  wondering  what 
was  to  come  next. 

'"Here  is  a  brat,'  said  the  stranger, 
pointing  to  the  child  now  crouching  at  his 
feet,  '  which  I  wish  out  of  the  way,  and 
am  too  much  of  a  coward  to  effect  my  de- 
sires. Take  her,  it  is  your  calling,  and 
here  is 


92 


LENI-LEOTI: 


" '  You  are  mistaken  in  me,'  replied 
Great  Medicine, '  if  you  suppose  I  will  aid 
your  base  ends.  I  would  not  kill  that  in- 
nocent little  creature  to  own  the  world.' 

*"  By ''replied  the  other,  making 

use  of  an  oath;  '  and  you  an  Indian  and 

eay  this!     What  in  the  name  of ails 

the  child,  that  all  fear  to  harm  her?  She 
must  die  though;  and  if  you  will  not  un- 
dertake the  job,  why,  then  there  is  no  other 
alternative;'  and  he  placed  his  pistol  to  her 
head. 

"  '  Stay!'  cried  thdBLl  man,  beseeching- 
ly; 'I  will  not  harm  n^Myself;  but  if  you 
wish  to  rid  yourself  of  her,  I  will  consent 
to  place  her  far  from  civilization,  and  adopt 
her  into  my  tribe.' 

'• '  But  she  is  a  child  of  consequence,' 
pursued  the  other,  '  the  daughter  of  one 
who  is  a  great  chief  in  his  own  country,  and 
etands  between  me  and  fortune.  Sliould 
she  return ' 

"  '  There  is  no  likelihood  of  that,'  inter- 
rupted the  other, '  as  I  shall  take  her  some 
hundreds  of  miles  into  the  wilderness.' 

•"But  her  father,  who  knows  nothing 
of  my  design,  and  to  whom  I  must  report 
her  lost  or  dead,  may  institute  search. — 
Hqw  do  I  know  she  may  not  be  found!' 

'■ '  That  I  think  impossible,'  rejoined  the 
old  man. 

"  'But  this  will  make  ail  sure,'  continu- 
ed the  dark  stranger,  again  pointing  the 
pistol  at  her  head. 

'■ '  Nay,  hold!'  cried  the  other  in  alarm. 
*  If  you  dare  to  murder  her,  I  will  make 
her  spirit  haunt  you  forever!' 

" '  You  make  her  spirit  haunt  me!  Umph! 
what  are  you,  but  a  decrepid  old  Indian"? 
By  heavens!  I  have  a  mind  to  murder  you 
both.  But  I  hate  murder;  for  in  fact  one 
never  feels  safe  afterwards.  Do  you  be- 
lieve in  a  God,  old  man? — for  you  talk  as 
one  the  world  denominates  Christian.' 

"  '  I  do  believe  in  a  God,'  answered  Great 
^ledicine;  'and  if  you  dare  to  harm  this 
child,  His  just  retribution  shall  follow 
you  even  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  earth 
and  time.' 

'•  The  other  paused,  reflected,  and  then 
added: 

"  '  I  would  not  have  her  blood  upon  my 
S)ul,  f'jr  I  have  sin  enough  there  already. 


You  think  there  is  no  danger  of  her  being 
discovered? 

'"  Not  the  least.' 

"  '  And  you  say  you  believe  in  a  God!' 

"  '  I  do.' 

" '  You  hope  for  salvation,  as  men  term 
it!' 

" '  I  do.' 

"  '  Then  swear,  by  your  hopes  of  salva- 
tion, to  keep  her  among  the  Indians  as 
long  as  you  live — to  adopt  her  into  your 
tribe,  and  never  to  mortal  ear  to  reveal  a 
word  concerning  this  interview,  or  how 
she  came  in  your  possession — that  you 
will  never  attempt  to  trace  out  her  parent- 
age, nor  make  any  inquiries  concerning 
her — swear  this,  and  she  is  yours.  Re- 
fuse, and  her  death  and  yours  is  the  pen- 
alty.' 

"  '  I  swear  to  all,'  answered  Great  Me- 
dicine. 

*"  Enough!  take  her,  and  speed  thee  to 
the  wilderness;  while  I  will  away  and  report 
her  dead — murdered  by  the  Indians,'  he 
added,  with  a  grim  smile.  Then  leaping 
upon  his  horse,  he  muttered  as  he  turned 
away:  'All  is  safe,  I  think,  for  we  shall 
soon  be  over  the  water;'  and  the  next  mo- 
ment both  horse  and  rider  were  lost  in  the 
forest. 

" '  This  child,'  writes  Great  Medicine, 
'  behoM  in  yourself,  Prairie  Flower!  and 
this  iWll  I  know  of  your  early  history.'  " 

"  Strange!"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  mu- 
singly. "  Here  is  more  mystery — I  do  not 
understand  it.  Who  could  have  beer\  this 
horseman]  and  what  the  meaning  of  his 
words]  As  you  were  stolen  away  on  the 
night  succeeding  my  desertion  by  your  fa- 
ther, i  had  ever  supposed — or  hoped,  rather 
— you  had  been  taken  away  by  him,  and 
with  him,  wherever  he  went;  and  this  hope 
proved  my  only  comfort  in  affliction.  But 
now  I  do  not  know  what  to  think.  This 
horseman  could  not  have  been  your  father, 
for  the  description  i?  not  at  all  like  him. 
The  latter  was  tall — dark  complexioned,  it 
is  true — but  with  fine  features  and  hand- 
some person.  And  then  he  referred  to 
your  father,  as  knowing  nothing  of  this 
dark  transaction,  and  termed  him  a  great 
chief  in  his  country,  and  said  you  were 
standing  between  him  and  fortune.  What 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


93 


could  he  have  meant  by  this  last?  Your 
father  had  no  fortune  to  my  knowledge, 
and  mine  was  so  fixed  he  could  not  get  it. 
Ha!  a  thought  strikes  me.  He  was  an 
exile  from  his  native  land — though  for 
what  he  would  never  tell  me — would  nev- 
er speak  of  his  early  history.  It  is  pos- 
sible he  may  have  been  a  personage  of 
consequence,  banished  for  some  state  in- 
trigue, and  again  restored.  It  may  be  he 
had  news  of  this  when  he  came  to  declare 
his  intention  of  leaving  me.  And  now  I 
remember,  he  once  intimated  that  he  would 
some  day  be  independent  of  me,  though  I 
did  not  know  what  was  meant.  This  must 
be  it!"  she  continued,  as  if  soliloquising; 
"  this  must  be  it!  and  this  stranger,  some 
fiend  in  human  form,  plotting  to  succeed 
him  in  wealth  and  station.  Oh!  the  wick- 
edness of  all  mankind!  But  I  forget,  my 
friends,  you  do  not  know  of  what  I  speak, 
as  I  have  never  told  you  my  history." 

"  Nay,  madam,"  returned  I,  "  we  know 
more  than  you  think." 

"  Indeed!  and  how?" 

Lilian  blushed,  and  I  became  embarrass- 
ed— for  I  felt  I  had,  in  my  heedlessness, 
said  a  word  too  much. 

"  Pardon  me!"  I  returned,  "  and  do  not 
blame  my  informant!  I  must  own  I  have' 
heard  the  tale  before.  But  you  will  not 
regret  it,  perhaps,  when  I  say,  that  to  this 
very  knovvledge  you  are  partially,  if  not 
entirely,  indebted  for  the  presence  of  your 
long  lost  daughter." 

"  I  blame  no  one,"  she  answered  solemn- 
ly;  "  for  all,  in  the  hands  of  God,  has  work- 
ed for  my  good.  I  understand  it  all,"  she 
added,  glancing  at  Lilian  and  Eva.  "These 
tell-tale  blushes  reveal  the  truth.  Eva 
told  Lilian  in  confidence,  and  love  wrung 
from  her  the  secret.  I  am  glad  it  is  so. 
You  are  all  my  friends,  and  the  tale  by 
rights  belongs  to  you.  I  might  never  have 
told  it  myself,  unless  on  an  occasion  like 
this — for  I  do  not  care  to  have  the  cold, 
idle  world  speculating  and  jesting  on  the 
secrets  of  what  has  long  been  an  unhap- 
py, if  not  wretched  heart.  In  my  younger 
days,  I  was  headstrong  and  rash,  and  did 
many  a  wrong,  as  I  have  since  felt  to  my 
cost — and  might  have  done  more,  perhaps, 
but  for  my  dear  daughter  Eva's  sake.  Ay! 


for  her,  I  may  say,  I  liued;  for  had  slie 
been  taken  from  me,  the  grave  ere  this  had 
covered  a  broken  heart." 

Her  last  words  were  said  in  a  trembling 
voice  and  with  deep  emotion. 

"  God  bless  you,  mother!"  exclaimed 
Eva,  in  a  tone  which  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  all  present. 

"  He  has  blessed  me,  my  child — blessed 
me  beyond  my  deserts.  Had  I  been  what 
I  should  have  been,  perchance  your  father 
had  never  left  ma,  my  daughters.  But 
enough  of  this,  ^is  past  now — gone  be- 
yond recall — and  the  result  is  before  us. 
But  go  on,  dear  Evaline — go  on  with  your 
story!" 

"  Were  I  to  tell  the  whole,"  resumed 
the  latter,  "  it  would  take  me  hours — nay, 
days — but  that  I  shall  not  attempt  to-night, 
only  so  far  as  relates  to  my  earliest  years 
and  earliest  impressions.  In  future  I  will 
give  you  more,  little  by  little,  until  you  get 
the  whole. 

"  As  I  have  said  previously,  my  earliest 
recollections  are  of  Great  Medicine  and 
his  tribe.  I  remember  his  dark,  keen  eye, 
and  of  his  gazing  upon  me  for  hours,  when 
none  were  by,  and  he  thought  I  did  not  no- 
tice him.  But  I  was  older  in  thought  than 
he  was  aware  of;  and  I  used  to  wonder  at 
this  singularity,  when  he  believed  I  won- 
dered at  nothing.  I  remember  many  and 
many  a  time  of  kneeling  down  to  a  spring 
of  clear  water,  gazing  at  my  features,  and 
wondering  why  I  was  so  difTerent  from  my 
companions.  I  saw,  even  then,  that  my 
features  were  fairer  and  of  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent cast;  and  this,  to  my  young  fancy, 
seemed  most  strange,  as  I  believed  myself 
of  the  same  race  as  those  around  me. — 
Great  Medicine  I  then  thought  my  father 
— for  so  he  bade  me  call  him,  and  so  I 
did.  As  I  grew  older,  this  contrast-^this 
difference  in  person — struck  me  more  and 
more,  and  at  last  I  made  bold  to  interro- 
gate the  old  man  concerning  it. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  his  look,  as  I,  in 
childish  simplicity,  asked  the  question.  He 
started,  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  and  his 
small  black  eyes  fastened  upon  mine  as 
though  to  read  my  very  soul.  Never  had 
I  feared  him  till  then.  There  was  a  wild 
fascination  in  that  gaze,  which  thrilled  and 


94 


LENI-LEOTI: 


overawed  me,  and  made  my  own  seek  the 
ground.  Never  shall  I  forget  his  words, 
as  he  advanced  and  took  my  hand.  It  was 
not  so  much  what  he  said,  as  his  impres- 
sive manner  of  saying  it. 

" '  Child,'  he  replied, '  you  seek  to  know  i 
too  much,  and  the  knowledge  you  seek 
would  render  you  in  future  years  the  most 
unhappy  of  mortals.  Something  I  feel 
you  must  now  know — and  this  it  is:  You 
are  not  of  my  race;  you  are  a  pale-face; 
I  am  your  guardian.^Seek  to  know  no 
more,  for  all  is  dark  beyond.  Be  one  of 
u.s,  and  be  happy  in  ignorance.  Breathe 
this  I  have  told  you  to  no  mortal  ear!  and 
never,  never  question  me  again.  You  pro- 
mise, girl?  he  added. 
"  '  I  do.' 

'"Enough!     Go!' 

"  I  left  his  presence  a  changed  being, 
though  he  knew  it  not;  for  his  strange 
language  and  manner  had  roused  that  eter- 
nal thirst  for  knowledge,  which  he  had 
thought  and  sought  to  allay.  I  questioned 
him  no  more;  but  his  singular  words  I  pon- 
dered in  secret. 

"  '  There  is  mystery  here,'  I  would  re- 
peat to  myself;  but  I  took  care  to  repeat 
it  to  no  other  human  being. 

"  To  detail  my  strange  conjectures  from 
that  time  forth,  would  be  to  lay  bare  the 
secret  workings  of  an  ever  active  spirit. 
I  shall  not  attempt  it,  but  leave  it  to  your 
imagination. 

"About  this  period,  a  few  missionaries 
set  up  a  temporary  station  near  our  locali- 
ty, for  the  double  purpose  of  making  con- 
verts to  their  faith  and  imparting  know- 
ledge to  the  unenlightened  Indians,  by 
teaching  them  to  read  and  write.  At  the 
request  of  Great  Medicine,  three  of  their 
number  came  and  took  up  their  abode  with 
U3,  for  the  latter  purpose.  I  was  at  once 
placed  under  their  instruction,  as  were  all 
the  younger  members  of  the  village.  On 
my  first  appearance  before  them,  they 
seemed  surprised,  and  questioned  me  re- 
garding my  name  and  parentage — at  the 
same  time  expressing  their  belief  I  was 
not  an  Indian — or,  at  the  most,  only  a  half- 
breed.  I  replied,  that  as  to  myself  they 
might  conjecture  what  they  pleased,  but 
thai  I  was  not  then  at  liberty  to  answer 


any  questions,  and  there  the  subject  drop- 
ped. 

"  A  year's  tuition  and  close  application 
made  me  quite  a  scholar,  and  I  could  now 
read  and  write  the  English  language  quite 
fluently,  as  could  several  of  the  more  in- 
telligent of  my  companions.  At  the  close 
of  the  period  mentioned,  our  teachers,  af- 
ter presenting  each  of  their  pupils  with  a 
Bible,  and  distributing  among  us  several 
other  religious  books,  departed  to  another 
section  of  country.  Soon  after  this,  Great 
Medicine  proposed  that  we  should  adopt  a 
more  roving  life,  as  in  this  manner  he 
thought  greater  good  might  be  effected. — 
Accordingly  we  began  moving  from  one 
quarter  to  another,  striving  to  subdue  the 
wild  passions  of  the  Indians  of  the  differ- 
ent tribes  we  met.  In  this  of  course  we 
were  not  in  general  successful — though 
our  exemplary  mode  of  life  ever  appeared 
to  make  a  favorable  impression  on  their 
savage  hearts,  and  win  their  respect.  In 
course  of  time  we  became  personally 
known  in  every  section  of  the  broad  west, 
and  were  allowed  to  come  and  depart  as 
we  saw  proper.  Whenever  we  heard  of  a 
battle  about  to  be  fought  between  two  na- 
tions, we  would  generally  follow  one  party 
or  the  other,  that  we  might  be  on  the 
groung^  to  succor  the  wounded.  If  we 
gained  tidings  of  a  strong  party  about  to 
assault  a  weaker,  \vq  would  manage,  if 
possible,  to  warn  the  latter.  Or,  in  the 
event  of  the  forces  being  equal,  if  we 
knew  of  a  surprise  one  tribe  had  planned 
for  another,  it  was  ever  our  design  to  warn 
the  unwary.  Whites  as  well  as  Indians 
received  from  us  the  same  warnings — 
though  how  our  information  was  obtained, 
generally  remained  a  mystery  to  those  not 
in  the  secret.  And  moreover,  great  cau- 
tion was  required  by  the  informant  in  these 
cases,  to  avoid  exposing  himself  to  the  ag- 
gressors, who,  in  the  heat  of  passion, 
would  be  likely  to  seek  revenge.  On 
many  of  these  errands  of  mercy — for  I 
think  I  may  so  term  them — have  I  been 
sent,  when  I  knew  a  single  error  would 
cost  me  my  life.  But  I  believed  I  was  do- 
ing my  duty,  put  my  trust  in  a  Power 
above,  and  faltered  not  in  my  purpose.  I 
was  never  detected  but  once  to  my  know- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


95 


ledge;  and  in  this  instance,  fortunately  for 
me,  I  had  rendered  the  tribe  aggrieved  the 
same  service  as  that  for  which  they  brought 
me  to  trial  before  their  council.  This  be- 
ing proved,  it  vi'as  finally  decided  the  obli- 
gation on  their  part  cancelled  the  aggres- 
sion on  mine,  and  I  was  allowed  to  go  free, 
with  a  very  significant  intimation,  how- 
ever, that  if  caught  in  the  second  offence, 
my  sentence  would  be  death. 

"  But  as  I  do  not  intend  to  enter  into 
detail  to-night,  and  as  I  already  feel  some- 
what fatigued,  I  will  drop  my  narrative 
here,  and,  as  I  said  before,  give  you  from 
time  to  time  the  most  striking  incidents  of 
my  life,  as  they  occur  to  my  recollection. 
I  have  briefly  told  you  all  I  know  of  my 
early  history,  and  by  your  leave  will  so 
end  the  story." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

EVALINE's  resolve — SOME  PLANS  FOE  THE 
FUTURE — RETIRE  FOR  THE  NIGHT — SUB- 
SEQUENT  EXCITEMENT    OF    MY    FRIEND 

IMAGINARY    DUEL — A   HAPPY    MISTAKE — 
LOVE  TRIUMPHANT — THOUGHTS  OF  HOME. 

"  Poor  child!  my  own  sweet  Evaline," 
said  Madame  Mortimer,  affectionately,  as 
the  former  concluded;  "  what  a  singular 
life  has  been  yours!  and  how  much  you 
must  have  suffered!" 

"  For  which  she  shall  be  made  happy  the 
rest  of  her  days,"  said  Eva,  springing  to 
and  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  lips. 

"Ah!"  chimed  in  Lilian,  following  the 
example  of  Eva,  "  did  I  not  say  we  would 
love  her  as  a  sister!" 

"  Ay,  but  I  had  no  idea  you  spoke  so 
much  truth,  and  in  a  double  sense,"  re- 
joined Eva,  glancing  archly  toward  Charles. 
'•'  I  trust  we  may  love  her  as  a  sister  both!" 

"  Indeed  you  may,"  chimed  in  I,  laugh- 
ing.    "Eh!  Charley  1" 

"  Be  quiet,  I  beg  of  you!"  answered  my 
friend,  in  some  confusion,  while  Evaline 
hung  her  head  with  a  blush,  and  a  plea- 
sant smile  played  over  each  face  of  the 
rest  of  the  group.  ; 

"  And  now,  dear  Evaline,"  said  Madame 


I  Mortimer,  "  I  suppose  we  may  count  on 
your  spending  the  remainder  of  your  days 
with  us]" 

Evaline  seemed  to  muse  seriously,  but 
did  not  reply. 

"  Surely  you  do  not  hesitate,  my  childl" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,"  she  answered, 
"  I  love  the  Indians,  and  know  they  will 
be  loth  to  part  with  me." 

"  And  has  a  mother  no  tie  stronger  than 
that  of  mere  association'!"  rejoined  the 
other,  reproachfully. 

Evaline  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  Nay,  mother,"  she  said,  "  do  not  speak 
thus!  Yes!"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  ris- 
ing and  throwing  her  arms  around  the 
other's  neck:  "  Yes,  dear  mother,  I  will  go 
with  you,  even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth — 
for  I  feel  I  could  not  part  from  you  again. 
From  my  very  childhood,  I  have  yearned 
for  this  happy  moment,  to  hear  the  sweet 
voice  of  one  I  could  call  mother.  It  may 
be  wrong  to  forsake  my  calling;  hut  if  it 
be,  I  feel  I  must  err;  for  I  am  only  mortal 
after  all,  and  cannot  withstand  the  temp- 
tation of  being  with  those  I  already  love 
beyond  all  others  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Bless  you,  Evaline,  for  those  words!" 

"  But  I  must  return  to  them,"  she  add- 
ed. "  I  have  promised  that.  I  must  re- 
turn and  bid  them  a  last  farewell." 

"  But  where  are  you  to  find  them,  my 
child!" 

"  They  will  winter  on  the  Black  HillS; 
some  sixty  or  seventy  miles  from  Fort  La- 
ramie." 

"  And  will  they  remain  through  the 
spring!"  asked  I. 

"  I  cannot  say.  They  Twa?/ remain  there 
through  the  summer,  for  all  are  particular- 
ly attached  to  the  spot;  and  if  any  place 
can  be  called  their  home,  it  is  the  one  in 
question." 

"  Then  you  can  visit  them  on  our  way 
to  the  east;  and  every  thing  prosperous, 
we  shall  start  as  early  in  the  spring  as 
practicable." 

"  O,  then  we  are  to  go  east  in  earnest!" 
exclaimed  Eva,  clapping  her  hands  for  joy. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  anxious  to  see 
home,  and  cannot  think  of  leaving  my 
friends  behind  me." 


96 


LENI-LEOTI: 


"Thank  you  for  this  welcome  ncWs!" 
she  returned;  "  ior  T  am  already  tired  of 
the  forest." 

"But  you  do  not  regret  having  come 
here,  Eva]"  said  her  mother,  inquiringly. 

"  Why,  I  have  regretted  it  all  along,  till 
[  found  my  sweet  sister.  Of  course  I  can 
not  regret  being  made  happy  by  her  pre- 
sence, which  but  for  this  journey  had  pro- 
bably never  been.  At  the  same  time,  I 
am  not  the  less  anxious  to  return  now,  and 
take  her  with  me." 

"  And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  now  that 
I  am  blessid  with  my  children,  begin  to 
feel  anxious  to  see  my  native  land  again, 
to  there  pass  the  remainder  of  my  days, 
and  lay  my  bones  with  those  that  have 
gone  before  me." 

"God  grant  it  may  be  long  ere  the  lat- 
ter event!"  returned  Charles,  with  feeling. 

"  Amen!"  added  I. 

"  It  seems,"  observed  Madame  Mortimer, 
after  some  reflection,  "  as  if  Providence 
especially  directed  our  steps  hither;  and 
it  is  the  only  way  I  can  account  for  my 
anxiety  to  visit  this  part  of  the  world,  and 
thus  expose  myself  and  Eva  to  hard- 
ships and  perils.  What  need  had  I  to 
come  westward!  I  had  a  handsome  com- 
petence, and  no  ambition  to  be  a  pioneer; 
and  yet  something  whispered  me  I  must 
go.  Truly,  as  I  said  before,  God  works  in 
wonders!" 

In  like  couversation  an  hour  or  two  flew 
by,  when  the  party  broke  up,  and  Madame 
Mortimer  and  her  daughters  were  conduct- 
ed by  Huntly  and  myself  to  their  own 
abode,  which  was  close  at  hand,  and  the 
fatigue  and  excitementof  the  day  was  soon 
by  each  forgotten  in  the  pleasant  dreams 
of  the  night. 

Time  rolled  away  pleasantly,  and  the 
third  night  after  this,  having  retired  at  the 
usual  hour  and  fallen  into  a  sweet  sleep,  I 
was  awakened  by  Huntly,  whom  I  found 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  apparently 
in  great  excitement. 

"Good  heavens!  what  is  the  matter"!" 
exclaimed  I,  rubbing  open  my  eyes  and 
starting  up  in  bed. 

"  So,  then,  you  are  awake  at  last!"  he 
replied,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  what  to 
ine  seemed  unnatural  five.     "  Why,  Frank, 


I  was  beginning  to  think  you  were  taking 
your  last,  long  sleep,  and  that  I  might  as 
well  call  to  a  log  of  wood.  Come!  up, 
now,  and  give  me  joy!  It  is  all  eettled, 
my  dear  fellow — all  settled!" 

"  Is  it!"  rejoined  I,  completely  at  a  loss 
to  comprehend  what  he  meant,  but  some- 
how, in  my  sleepy  confusion,  mixing  it  up 
with  a  duel  of  which  I  had  been  dreaming 
the  night  previous.  "And  so  it  is  all  settled, 
eh!     Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Charley." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be,"  he  replied; 
"  and  I  awoke  you  on  purpose  to  have  you 
share  my  happiness.  Come,  give  me  your 
hand!" 

"  But  how  did  you  settle  it,  Charley!" 

"O,  I  made  bold  to  take  up  the  matter 
at  last  and  press  it  to  a  conclusion." 

"  And  so  you  settled  it!" 

"Ay,  and  it  is  to  come  off  at  the  same 
time  as  yours." 

"  As  mine!  But  my  friend,  I  have  no 
such  affair  on  hand,  to  my  knowledge." 

"  What!"  exclaimed  Huntly,  looking  at 
me  in  astonishment.  "  Why,  you  have 
given  me  to  understand,  all  along,  that  you 
had." 

"  I!     No,  you  must  be  mistaken." 

"  Ha!  then  you  have  quarrelled!" 

"No!  exactly  the  reverse.  Butyoutold 
me  a  moment  since  you  had  settled  the 
whole  matter,  and  now  you  say  it  is  to 
come  off  with  mine.  Somehow  I  do  not 
understand  it.  Either  you  or  I  must  have 
made  a  great  mistake.  When  you  said  it 
was  all  settled,  I  supposed  you  to  mean 
amicably  settled;  but  I  see  now  you  sim- 
ply referred  to  manner,  time  and  place. — 
Well,  at  all  events,  I  will  stand  by  you  to 
the  last,  though  I  sincerely  regret  the  af- 
fair could  not  have  ended  without  a  meet- 
ing.    Pistols  or  rifles,  Charles]" 

"  Pistols  or  rifles!"  he  repeated,  gazing 
at  me  with  a  peculiar  expression.  "  Why, 
Frank,  what  do  you  mean  by  this  strange 
language]  or  are  you  still  asleep]  In  the 
name  of  all  that  is  curious,  pray  tell  me  if 
you  know  yourself  what  you  are  talking 
about!" 

"  Why,  fighting,  of  course." 

"  Fighting]" 

"  Ay,  you  were  speaking  of  a  duel,  were 
you  not!" 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


97 


For  a  brief  moment  Huntly  looked  at 
me  seriously,  and  then  broke  forth  in  a 
roar  of  laughter  that  fairly  made  the  cabin 
tremble.  It  was  some  time  ere  he  could 
command  his  voice  sufficiently  to  make 
himself  intelligible. 

"  Go  to  bed,  Frank!"  were  his  first 
words,  as,  half  bent  over,  his  hands  clasp- 
ing his  ribs,  he  stood  gazing  at  me  with  a 
comical  look.  "  Go  to  bed,  Frank,  and 
dream  yourself  into  a  sensible  fellow — for 
just  now  you  are  as  wild  as  a  night-hawk." 

"  But  if  you  did  not  allude  to  a  duel, 
Charles,  pray  tell  me  to  what  you  did  al- 
lude!" 

•'  To  matrimony — neither  more  nor  less," 
he  answered,  laughing. 

"Ha!  I  see  it  all  now.  Why, how  stu- 
pid I  must  have  heen!  But  I  was  dream- 
ing of  a  duel  last  night,  and  being  awaken- 
ed so  suddenly,  and  seeing  you  so  excited, 
got  completely  bewildered.  And  so  you 
have  been  tete-a-tete  with  Evaline,  found 
your  tongue  at  last,  and  said  the  sensible 
thing,  eh]" 

"Ay!  and  am  now  the  happiest  fellow 
living." 

"  You  found  it  all  right,  did  you,  just  as 
I  said  you  would!" 

"  So  far  that  I  found  she  loved  me,  and 
had  from  the  date  of  our  first  meeting;  but 
that,  believing  herself  a  poor,  nameless 
girl,  she  had  avoided  me,  and  striven  in 
vain  to  crush  her  passion  in  the  bud. — 
Though  she  would  have  loved  me,  she  said, 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  others,  even  to  the 
day  of  her  death,  yet  had  matters  not  turn- 
ed out  as  they  have,  she  would  most  as- 
suredly have  refused  my  hand,  though  back- 
ed by  all  the  eloquent  pleadings  of  which 
the  human  tongue  is  master." 

"  Ay,  and  indeed  would  she!"  I  rejoined, 
'•  for  such  is  her  proud,  noble  nature.  You 
remember  our  conversation  years  ago  re- 
specting her.  My  remark  then  was,  if  I 
mistake  not,  that  though  she  might 
love,  she  would  reject  you;  and  gave,  as 
one  reason  therefor,  that  she  was  too  no- 
ble minded  towed  above  herself.  Strange! 
what  has  since  transpired,  and  for  which 
you  may  thank  your  stars!  You  and  I  lit- 
tle dreamed  then  what  the  future  had  in 
store— that  mighty  future,  which   to   all 


mortal  eyes  is  a  sealed  book,  on  whose 
pages  are.  impressed  the  destinies  alike  of 
worlds,  of  nations,  and  of  individuals, 
which  none  may  read  but  as  its  pages  are 
o'erturned  by  the  wizzard  fingers  of  old 
Time.  Well,  well,  thank  God  all  has 
turned  out  for  the  best!" 

"  Ay,  Frank,"  returned  my  friend,  sol- 
emnly, "  we  may  well  thank  God,  and  con- 
gratulate each  other  that  we  are  kere  alive, 
after  the  thousand  dangers  to  which  we 
have  been  expoised." 

"  And  she  accepted  your  hand!"  I  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"  She  did,  though  not  without  much  ur- 
ging; for  she  contended  that  even  now  she 
was  but  a  simple  forest  maiden,  unused  to 
the  ways  of  civilization,  and  far  my  inferior 
in  education,  and  said  that  I  might  aspire 
higher  and  be  successful.  But  she  loved 
— that  was  enough  for  me — and  love  and 
my  pleadings  at  last  overcame  her  scruples, 
and  I  left  her  with  a  lighter  heart  than  I 
have  known  for  many  a  long  year." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  I  sincerely  congratu- 
late you  on  the  happy  termination.  And 
so,  to  speak  plainly,  your  wedding  is  to 
come  off  with  mine!" 

"  Even  so." 

"  Mine  was  to  have  come  off  on  the  day 
you  returned;  such  were  the  conditions; 
but  the  day  passed  as  you  know  how,  and 
as  we  are  determined  on  going  east  in  the 
spring,  Lilian  and  I  have  thought  best  to  de- 
fer it  till  we  arrive  at  home.  Ah!  Charles, 
how  that  word  thrills  me!  Home!  Ah, 
me!  how  long  since  I  have  seen  it!  and 
who  knows  what  disappointment  and  sor- 
row may  be  there  in  store  for  me!  And  how 
must  my  doting  parents  have  mourned  my 
long  absence!  Perchance  they  think  me 
dead!  Merciful  Heaven!  perchance  they 
may  be  dead  themselves!     Oh  God!  should 

such  be  the  case But,  no!  I  will  not, 

dare  not,  think  so.  I  will  hope  for  the 
best,  and  strive  not  to  borrow  trouble.  It 
is  enough  to  bear  it  when  it  comes.  Come, 
my  friend,  to  bed!  for  the  thought  of  home 
has  driven  all  others  from  my  mind,  and  I 
can  talk  no  more  to-night." 


93 


LENI-LEOTI: 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

HAPPY   MOMENTS AVINTER    AMUSEMENTS — 

PREPAKATIONS     TO     DEPART — THE     WAH- 
SOCHEES  — teddy's     IDEA    OF    DOUBLING 

OR   QUITTING     MY    SERVICE HOMEWARD 

BOUND — ARRIVE   AT    PORT    LARAMIE. 

How  sweetly  time  passes  when  Vv'ith 
those  we  love.  Moment  then  fjllows  mo- 
ment in  unbroken  succession,  and  com- 
mingling like  drops  of  water,  f jrms  the 
great  stream  of  Time,  which, flowing  past 
flowery  banks  and  lulling  us  with  its  gen- 
tle murmur,  glides  swiftly  and  evenly 
away,  bearing  us  on  its  broad  bosom  to  the 
boundless  and  fathomless  ocean  of  Eter- 
nity. It  is  when  in  sweet  and  constant 
communion  with  those  we  love,  we  forget 
the  jars  and  discords  of  our  past  life,  in 
the  enrapturing  harmony  of  the  present. 
We  then  lose  sight  of  the  world  as  it  is, 
and  only  behold  it  through  that  magic  glass 
of  inner  joy,  which  shows  all  its  beauties, 
but  conceals  its  defects.  These  moments 
of  earthly  beautitude  are  most  precious 
and  evanescent.  They  are  as  so  many  of 
golden  sunshine,  streaming  upon  the  other- 
wise gloomy  path  of  the  traveller,  and 
showing  him  a  thousand  beauties,  of  whose 
existence  so  near  him  he  had  previously 
no  conception. 

Thus  it  was  with  myself  and  friends. — 
Time  rolled  away  almost  unnoted,  and  ere 
we  had  prepared  ourselves  to  hid  old  hoary- 
headed  Winter  adieu,  we  found,  to  our  sur- 
prise, he  had  gone,  and  that  light-footed 
Spring  was  gaily  tripping  and  smiling  in 
his  place. 

Although  far  in  the  wilderness,  Oregon 
City  was  not  without  its  attractions.  Of 
the  settlers,  many  were  young  people,  who 
had  been  well  brought  up  in  the  east,  and 
had  come  hither  to  try  their  fortunes. — 
They  did  not  believe  in  renouncing  all 
their  former  amusements:  and  in  conse- 
quence, gay  parties,  festivities  and  balls 
succeeded  one  another  in  rapid  succession. 
To  these  myself  and  friends  were  always 
invited,  and  a  number  of  them  we  attend- 
ed. They  were  rude  in  comparison  to 
some  in  older  settlements  it  is  true;  but 
being  in   general   conducted  with   great 


propriety,  often  proved  very  agreeable  pas- 
times, and  enlivened  the  otherwise  rather 
dull  monotony  of  the  village. 

As  spring  advanced,  we  began  gradually 
to  prepare  for  our  journey.  The  real  es- 
tate previously  purchased  by  Mrs.  Huntly, 
was  readily  sold  for  cash,  and  the  receipts 
doubled  the  purchase  money.  As  we  de- 
signed taking  nothing  with  us  but  what 
was  absolutely  necessary,  the  furniture  of 
both  Mrs.  Huntly  and  Madame  Mortimer 
was  also  disposed  of — possession  to  be 
given  so  soon  as  the  premises  should  be 
vacated. 

As  our  party  of  itself  was  not  strong, 
and  as  there  were  many  here  who  design- 
ed going  east — some  to  procure  goods, 
some  to  remain,  and  others,  who  had  come 
here  in  advance,  to  bring  on  their  families 
— we  decided  to  join  them,  and  thus  jour- 
ney in  comparative  security. 

Great  was  the  delight  of  Lilian  and  Eva, 
as  the  time  drew  near  for  our  departure. 
In  fact,  towards  the  last,  they  could  think 
of  nothing,  talk  of  nothing,  but  the  plea- 
sure of  quitting  their  present  abode,  and 
what  they  would  do  when  they  should  safe- 
ly arrive  at  their  destination. 

With  Evaline  it  was  different.  In  this 
journey  she  only  saw  a  change  of  life  and 
scene — which,  if  tri.th  must  be  told,  she 
rather  regretted  than  rejoiced  at — and  a 
sad  parting  from  her  Indian  friends.  Where 
Lilian  and  Eva  saw  welcome  faces  and  a 
thousand  fascinations  in  the  haunts  of  civ- 
ilization, she  beheld  nothing  but  the  cold 
gaze  of  strangers  and  the  gossipping  specu- 
lations of  the  worldly-minded.  She  was 
beautiful  and  fascinating  in  her  personal 
appearance — refined,  polished  and  graceful 
in  her  manners — but  withal,  so  excessive- 
ly modest  as  to  underrate  her  own  powers, 
and  fancy  herself  an  awkward  forest  maid- 
en, unfitted  for  the  society  in  which  she 
was  destined  more  or  less  to  mingle.  Both 
Charles  and  I,  as  also  the  others,  ever 
strove  to  eradicate  this  unpleasant  impres- 
sion, and  we  in  part  succeeded.  But  still 
she  was  diffident,  sober  minded,  and  with- 
out a  particle  of  that  enthusiasm  so  strong- 
ly manifested  by  her  sister  and  Lilian. 

The  Indian  companions  of  Evaline  had 
remained  in  the  village  through  the  win- 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


99 


ter,  and  by  their  quiet,  unobtrusive  man- 
ners, their  steady,  upright  mode  of  life — 
so  different  from  the  drunken,  brawling 
natives  of  the  neighboring  tribes,  who  oc- 
casionally visited  the  village — had  won  the 
respect  and  regard  of  the  citizens,  and,  in 
fact,  become  decided  favorites  with  all. — 
While  the  former  were  sought  for,  the  lat- 
ter were  shunned;  and  the  widest  distinc- 
tion in  all  cases  was  ever  drawn  between 
the  Wahsochees  and  their  red  brethren  of 
other  nations.  But  notwithstanding  this 
partiality,  the  Wahsochees  were  evidently 
not  contented  in  their  present  situation. 
To  them,  civilized  customs  had  less  attrac- 
tion than  the  more  rude  and  simple  ones 
of  their  own  tribe;  and  they  were  now 
anxious  to  depart  and  join  their  friends.  It 
was  arranged  that  all  should  proceed  in 
company  as  far  as  Fort  Laramie,  whence 
Evaline  could  either  accompany  the  In- 
dians home,  or  let  them  go  in  advance  to 
herald  her  approach,  as  circumstances 
might  determine. 

In  enumerating  the  different  personages 
who  ha\e  figured  in  this  narrative,  I  must 
not  forget  Teddy.  For  the  last  five  or  six 
months  he  had  been  in  his  glory;  and 
between  taking  care  of  our  horses,  spin- 
ning long  yarns  to  the  villagers,  (whom, 
by  the  way,  he  ever  succeeded  in  aston- 
ishing,) and  making  love  to  Molly  Stubbs, 
he  had,  as  the  phrase  goes,  had  "  his  hands 
full."  Of  his  success  in  the  last,  I  must 
let  the  reader  judge  by  the  foUewing  col- 
loquy, which  took  place  between  us  a  v/eek 
or  so  previous  to  the  time  fixed  on  for  our 
departure. 

Approaching  me  with  a  rather  timid 
step,  hat  in  hand,  and  making  a  low  obei- 
sence,  he  said: 

"  The  top  of  the  morning  to  your  hon- 
or." 

"  The  same  to  you,  Teddy." 
"  Sure,  your  honor — (a  pause  and  rapid 
twirl  of  the  hat) — sure,  and  is  it  thrue 
ye're  afther  taking  yoursilf  and  frinds 
from  these  diggins  (as  the  spalpeens  call 
the  likes)  in  a  week  for  that  mather!" 

"  All  true,  Teddy,  nothing  unforeseen 
preventing." 

"  Troth!  nnd  ye'll  be  missed  from  this 
counthry  whin  the  likes  of  that  happens." 


"  I  trust  so,  Teddy." 

Another  pause,  another  twirl  of  the  hat, 
and  a  scratching  of  the  head.  After  some 
hesitation — 

"  Sure,  and  it's  me  own  mother's  son, 
Teddy  O'Lagherty,  as  'ud  like  to  be  axing 
yees  a  question'?" 

"Well,  Teddy,  say  on!" 

"  Faith!  and  it's  mesilf  as  has  been  long 
in  your  honor's  sarvice,  now." 

"  Some  three  or  four  years,  I  believe,  off 
and  on." 

'■'  And  it's  not  a  bether  masther  I'd  iver 
want,  no  it  isn't." 

"  Well?" 

"  But  ye's  a-going  home,  now,  and  may- 
be doesn't  care  for  the  likes  of  me  inny 
longer?" 

"I  see:  you  wish  to  be  discharged]" 

Another  twirl  of  the  hat  and  scratch  of 
the  head. 

"  Why,  now,  your  honor — no  offince  at 
all — but — but  to  spaak  the  thruth,  and 
make  a  claan  breast  of  it,  it's  that  same 
I'd  ayther  be  axing  for,  or  doubling  the  sar- 
vice, jist." 

"  Doubling  the  service,  Teddy]  I  do 
not  understand  you.  You  mean  I  must 
double  your  wages,  eh]" 

"Will,  it's  not  exactly  that — but — but 
ye  sae — (Here  the  hat  fell  to  the  ground, 
and  Teddy  made  an  unsuccessful  effort  to 
recover  it,) — "Murther  take  the  luck,  but 
I'll  say  it  now  if  I  dies  for  it  betimes!  Ye 
sae,  your  honor,  I've  axed  Molly,  and  it's 
all  settled,  and  there's  a-going  to  be  the 
pair  of  us,  barring  that  the  two  counts  one 
Scripter-wise." 

"  So,  so — I  understand  now — you  are 
about  to  be  married  to  Molly]" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  may  say  that's  the  short 
way  of  saying  the  likes,  your  honor." 

"  Exactly;  and  unless  I  wish  to  employ 
you  both,  you  desire  to  quit  my  service]" 

"Troth!  and  your  honor's  a  gintleman 
at  guessing." 

"  Well,  Teddy,  as  I  have  no  use  for  Mol- 
ly at  this  time,  I  will  give  you  an  honor- 
able discharge,  and  a  handsome  wedding 
present  for  your  valuable  services  besides." 

"  God  bless  ye  for  a  gintleman,  ivery 
inch  of  yees!  and  it's  mesilf  as'll  niver 
forgit  ye  in  me  prayers,"  was  the  warm- 


100 


LENI-LEOTI: 


hearted  response,  as,  grasping  my  hand,  he 
fihook  it  heartily,  while  his  eyes  tilled  with 
joyful  tears.  "God  bless  ye  for  a  noble 
heart!"  lie  added,  as  he  turned  away  to  com- 
municate his  success  to  her  with  whom  his 
fortune  was  about  to  be  linked. 

Suffice  it  here,  that  I  kept  my  word  with 
Teddy,  who  had  no  reason  to  regret  having 
entered  my  service  and  secured  my  esteem. 

The  long  vvi.shed  for  day  of  our  depar- 
ture came  at  last,  and  being  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  pleasant  of  the  season, 
was  hailed  with  delight  as  an  omen  of 
prosperity.  Every  thing  having  been  pre- 
viously arranged,  there  was  little  to  do  but 
take  leave  of  those  who  remained  ;  and 
this  being  soon  over,  we  were  on  the  move 
at  an  early  hour,  a  goodly  company  of 
thirty  souls,  two-thirds  of  whom  were  of 
the  sterner  sex. 

As  much  of  importance  is  yet  to  be  told, 
and  as  the  reader  has  once  or  twice  follow- 
ed me  over  the  ground  now  traversed,  I  will 
not  trouble  him  with  a  detail  of  our  jour- 
ney from  Oregon  City  to  Fort  Laramie. 
Suffice,  that  we  reached  the  latter  place  in 
safety,  though  much  fatigued,  about  the 
middle  of  July,  Anno  Domini  1844,  and 
some  four  years  subsequent  to  my  former 
visit  here,  when  I  first  beheld  the  beauti- 
ful Prairie  Flower,  otherwise  Leni-Leoti, 

now  Evaline  Mortimer,  and  soon  to  be 

But  let  me  not  anticipate. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  BLACK  HILLS — CAMP — 
SLIGHT  ALARM  —  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT  — 
MEETING  WITH  THE  TRIBE — JOY  AND  SOR- 
ROW— THE  FINAL  FAREWELL — A  BEAUTI- 
FUL LANDSCAPE — THE  PROPOSED  RIDE — 
A  NEW  CHARACTER  INTRODUCED — UN- 
HEEDED FOREBODINGS. 

To  the  great  delight  of  Evaline,  as  well 
as  those  who  sympathised  with  her,  it  was 
ascertained  soon  af^er  our  arrival  at  the 
fort,  that  some  of  the  Mysterious  Tribe 
had  been  seen  quite  recently  in  the  vicini- 
ty; from  which  we  drew  the  conclusion, 
that  they  were  still  at  their  winter  quar- 


ters on  the  Black  Hills.  It  being  Evaline'a 
desire  to  see  them  as  soon  as  possible,  it 
was  finally  agreed  that  her  sister,  Lilian, 
Charles  and  myself  should  bear  her  com- 
pany, along  with  her  Indian  friends,  while 
her  mother  and  Mrs.  Huntly  should  await 
our  return  at  the  fort.  On  learning  our 
determination,  some  five  or  six  of  the  par- 
ty with  whom  we  had  crossed  the  moun- 
tains, volunteered  to  go  with  us — a  favor 
which  we  gladly  accepted,  as  this  would 
strengthen  our  party,  and  render  us  less 
liable  to  attack,  should  we  chance  upon 
hostile  savages.  The  rest  of  the  compa- 
ny, after  remaining  over  night  at  the  fort, 
being  anxious  to  proceed,  bade  us  adieu, 
and  resumed  their  journey  on  the  morning 
following. 

Before  starting  for  the  Black  Hills,  we 
procured  a  couple  of  tents  for  the  females, 
which  we  packed  on  mules,  and  then 
mounting  each  on  a  good  horse,  with  all 
the  necessary  equipments  for  defence,  we 
set  forth  on  the  second  day  at  an  early 
hour.  For  a  number  of  miles  we  made 
rapid  progress,  but  at  length  came  to  a 
stream,  whose  current  being  swift  and 
banks  precipitous,  delayed  us  some  time  in 
seeking  a  place  to  ford.  This  crossed,  we 
soon  came  to  another  where  a  similar  de- 
lay awaited  us.  In  short,  our  progress 
was  so  many  times  checked  through  the 
day,  that  when  night  at  last  began  to  draw 
her  sable  curtains,  we  found,  to  the  best  of 
our  judgment,  that  hardly  two-thirds  of  our 
journey  had  been  gone  over. 

Selecting  a  pleasant  spot,  we  pitched 
our  tents,  liberated  our  animals  and  en- 
camped. An  hour  or  two  was  passed  in  a 
very  agreeable  manner,  when  the  females, 
who  appeared  more  fatigued  than  we  of 
the  sterner  sex,  withdrew  to  their  quarters, 
leaving  the  rest  of  us  squatted  around  a 
large  fire,  which  we  had  started,  not  to 
warm  ourselves  by,  for  it  was  a  sultry  July 
night,  but  to  keep  off  the  wild  animals,  of 
whose  proximity  we  were  several  times  re- 
minded by  dismal  howls. 

A  couple  of  hours  preceding  midnight, 
our  animals  were  driven  in  and  picketed, 
and  a  guard  set,  more  from  caution  than 
iipprehension  of  danger.  This  done,  the 
remainder  of   the  party  stretched  thera« 


OR,  ADVENTURES  m  THE  FAR  WEST, 


101 


selves  around  the  fire,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  my  friend  and  I,  were  soon  in  the 
enjoyment  of  that  sweetest  of  all  bless- 
ings, a  sound  and  healthful  sleep.  For 
some  time  t  lay  musing  on  the  singular 
events  of  my  life,  and  then  turned  to 
Huntly. 

"  Well,  Charley,"  said  I,  "  this  seems 
like  old  times." 

"  So  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  rejoined, 
"with  one  exception,  Frank." 

"  The  ladies,  ehV 

"  Exactly.  I  trust  nothing  may  occur 
to  make  us  regret  their  presence,"  he  add- 
ed, seriously.  "  You  and  I  have  faced  dan- 
ger too  often  to  fear  it  for  our  own  sakes 
— but  if  any  thing  should  happen  now " 

"  Surely  you  do  not  dream  of  danger 
hereV'l  interrupted. 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Frank," 
he  replied,  "  I  have  my  misgivings  that  we 
shall  see  trouble  ere  we  again  reach  the 
fort." 

"  God  forbid!  What  makes  you  think 
sol" 

"  I  can  give  no  reason.  It  is  simply  a 
presentiment  of  evil." 

"  But  from  what  source  do  you  appre- 
hend danger?" 

"  From  no  particular  one,  Frank." 

"  Merely  a  fancy  of  yours,  probably, 
springing  from  your  intense  interest  in 
those  more  dear  to  you  than  life." 

"  God  send  it  be  only  fancy!"  he  rejoin- 
ed, gloomily. 

His  words  made  me  sad,  and,  added  to 
the  restlessness  I  had  previously  felt,  kept 
me  awake  a  long  time.  At  last  I  fell  into 
a  feverish  slumber,  and  was  gradually  pro- 
gressing toward  a  state  of  utter  forgetful- 
noss.wlien  a  snorting  and  stamping  of  the 
animals  aroused  me,  and  together  with 
Huntly  I  sprang  to  my  feet  in  alarm. 

"  What  is  it]"  I  cried  to  the  guard, 
whom  I  found  standing  near  me,  pale  as 
death,  with  his  rifle  pointed  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  came  the  disturbance. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered;  "  this  is 
the  first  I  have  heard.  Shall  I  give  the 
alarm"!" 

"  No!  remain  quiet  a  moment  where 
you  are,  and  I  will  steal  in  among  the  ani- 
mals and  ascertain  the  cause.     I  do  not 


think   it  proceeds  from  savages,  or  we 
should  have  had  on  onset  ere  this." 

"What  then,  Frank]"  asked  Huntly, 
taking  his  position  by  the  tents,  rifle  in 
hand. 

"  Most  likely  some  wild  beast,  which, 
urged  on  by  hunger,  has  ventured  a  little 
nearer  than  usual." 

My  conjecture  this  time  proved  correct; 
for  on  cautiously  approaching  the  fright- 
ened animals,  1  discovered  a  small  wolf  in 
the  act  of  gnawing  a  tether  rope  of  buffa- 
lo hide.  I  could  have  shot  him  from  where 
I  stood;  but  this  I  did  not  care  to  do,  as  it 
would  only  create  unnecessary  alarm. — 
Retreating  a  few  paces  and  selecting  a 
good  sized  club,  I  informed  the  guard  and 
Huntly  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm,  and 
returning  with  a  stealthy  pace,  got  close 
to  the  hungry  beast  without  making  him 
aware  of  my  presence.  His  head  was 
from  me,  and  he  was  eagerly  engaged  in 
getting  a  morsel  to  eke  out  a  half-famish- 
ed existence.  I  believe  I  could  have  kill- 
ed the  poor  creature  with  a  single  blow, 
and  raised  my  club  for  the  purpose;  but 
pity  gained  power  over  my  resolution,  and 
I  gave  him  only  a  gentle  tap,  which  rather 
scared  than  hurt  him,  and  he  ran  away 
howling. 

This  little  incident,  though  nothing  in 
itself,  tended  so  to  increase  the  nervous- 
ness of  both  Huntly  and  myself,  that  we 
did  not  fall  soundly  asleep  till  the  first 
sign  of  day-break  streamed  up  golden  in 
the  east.  An  hour  later  we  were  all  on 
our  feet,  and  having  partaken  a  slight  re- 
past, and  laughed  over  our  fears  of  the  de- 
parted night,  we  mounted  our  horses  and 
again  proceeded  on  our  journey. 

No  more  delays  occurred,  and  ere  the 
sun  gained  the  meridian,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  village,  when  our  Indian  compan- 
ions, unable  to  restrain  themselves  longer, 
uttered  shouts  of  delight  and  darted  away 
in  advance  of  us.  I  turned  to  Evaline, 
and  beheld  her  seated  quietly  on  her  little 
pony,  her  gaze  rivetted  upon  the  village, 
but  apparently  laboring  under  no  excite- 
ment. A  closer  scrutiny  convinced  me  I 
was  mistaken.  There  was  little  outward 
display  of  her  feelings:  but  I  perceived  in 
her  ashen  cheeks  and  absent  stare,  that 


102 


LENI-LEOTI: 


thoughts,   mighty   in   their   power,   were 
stirring  the  soul  witliin.     For  a  short  time 
she   seemed    unconscious    of    any   thing 
around  her,  and  it  was  not  until  Eva  had 
addressed  her  thrice  that  she  received  an 
answer  to  her  question: 
"  Is  this  the  spot,  sisterl" 
On  the  second  repetition,  Evaline  start- 
ed, turned  to  the  fair  querist  and  sighed: 
"This  is  the  spot." 

Then  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
she  remained  silent  until  addressed  again. 
"  Why  are  you  so  sadjEvalineV  inquir- 
ed Lilian. 
•'  Ay,  sister,  tell  us!"  added  Eva. 
"I  am  thinking  of  the  past  and  the  fu- 
ture," was  the  answer,  in  a  low,  tremulous 
tone.  "  Oh,  my  friends!"  she  continued, 
"  you  cannot  know  my  feelings.  I  am 
about  to  bid  farewell  to  those  who  have 
been  to  me  as  brothers  and  sisters.  I  am 
about  to  leave — to  see  them  no  more — to 
go  far  away  to  the  land  of  the  stranger. — 
True,  you  will  say,  I  go  not  alone;  I  shall 
have  with  me  a  kind  mother  and  sister,  and 
other  dear  friends;  but  still  you  know  not 
what  it  is  to  suddenly  and  utterly  tear 
yourself  away  from  old  ties  and  old  asso- 
ciations. You  know  not  the  fascinations 
of  the  wilderness,  to  one  who,  like  myself, 
has  never  known  aught  else.  Even  dan- 
ger has  a  charm  to  those  who  are  bred  to 
it;  and  it  is  hard,  with  all  the  inducements 
before  me,  to  break  the  spell  of  unlimited 
freedom  with  which  I  have  roamed  over 
thousands  of  miles  of  uncultivated  terri- 
tory. But  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  go  with 
you.  I  can  not  think  of  parting  from  my 
dear  mother  again  in  life.  As  she  has 
suggested,  the  tie  binding  me  to  her  I  ac- 
knowledge to  be  stronger  than  that  of 
mere  association." 

"  And  have  you  no  other  inducement  to 
part  from  the  Mysterious  Tribe!"  asked 
Huntly,  a  little  reproachfully. 

Evaline  looked  up,  her  eye  met  his,  a 
slight  flush  colored  her  pale  features,  and 
frankly  taking  his  hand,  she  replied,  in  a 
sweet,  timid  voice: 

"  Yes,  dear  Charles,  there  is  more  than 
one." 

"God  bless  you,  Evaline!"   was   the 


to  make  you  happy ;  and  in  the  joy  of 
the  future,  you  will  ere  long  forget  the 
past." 

"  Forget,  say  you?"  she  repeated,  look- 
ing earnestly  in  his  face.  "  Forget  the 
past] — forget  my  old  friends'!  Nay,"  she 
continued,  "you  know  not  yet  the  heart  of 
Prairie  Flower,  if  you  think  she  can  ever 
forget." 

"  No,  no,  not  exactly  forget,"  returned 
Huntly,  endeavoring  to  recover  from  his 
mistake:  "  Not  exactly  forget:  I  do  not 
mean  that,  Evaline — but  rather  that  you 
will  cease  to  regret  this  change  of  life." 
"  Perhaps  so,"  she  sighed. 
"  See!"  I  exclaimed,  "the  Indians  have 
nearly  gained  the  village,  and  the  inhabit- 
ants are  already  flocking  down  the  hill  to 
meet  them.  Let  us  quicken  our  pace;" 
and  galloping  forward,  we  soon  drew  rein 
in  the  center  of  the  crowd. 

"  Leni-Leoti!"  "Prairie  Flower!"  was 
the  universal  cry  on  every  hand,  as  Eva- 
line leaped  from  her  saddle  and  sprang  to 
the  embrace  of  her  Indian  friends,  who 
pressed  around  her  as  children  around  a 
parent — old  and  young — men,  women  and 
children — each  eager  to  be  first  to  greet 
her  with  a  hearty  welcome.  For  some 
time  the  rest  of  us  remained  wholly  un- 
noticed. At  length,  the  first  joyful  excite- 
ment over, Evaline  pointed  tons,  and  bade 
the  Indians  give  us  welcome,  which  they 
did  in  a  hearty  manner. 

Approaching  Eva,  Evaline  took  her  by 
the  hand  and  said: 

"  In  this  lady,  my  friends,  you  behold 
the  sister  of  Prairie  Flower." 

"  Another  Prairie  Flower!"  "Another 
Leni-Leoti!"  was  the  almost  simultaneous 
exclamation  ;  and  instantly  collecting 
around,  they  gazed  upon  her  in  surprise, 
and  began  talking  to  each  other  in  their 
own  dialect.  Then,  one  after  another, 
they  approached  and  took  her  hand,  and 
said,  in  broken  English,  thai  they  were 
most  happy  to  see  her,  and  that  she  was 
welcome,  as  the  sister  of  Prairie  Flower, 
to  a  share  in  all  they  possessed.  This  re- 
ception over,  they  invited  us  to  the  village, 
where  every  thing  in  their  power  was  done 
to  make  us  comfortable  and  contented. — 


boarty   reeponse.     "  We   will   all   strive    Our  animals  were  taken  in  charge  and 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


103 


liberated,  and  three  or  four  lodges  assign- 
ed us  during  our  stay  among  them. 

On  learning  that.Evaline  had  only  re- 
turned to  bid  them  a  final  farewell,  the 
Wahsochees  one  and  all  became  very  sad, 
and  a  gloom  pervaded  the  village,  as  on  the 
funeral  day  of  one  universally  beloved. — 
The  women  and  children  wept  at  the 
thought,  and  some  of  them  begged  of  her 
in  piteous  tones  not  to  leave  them.  Eva- 
line  could  not  witness  these  sincere  mani- 
festations of  lasting  affection  unmoved, 
and  in  consequence  her  eyes  were  con- 
tinually filled  with  tears.  As  it  had  been 
arranged  that  we  should  leave  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  she  was  kept  busy  through 
the  day  in  making  preparations  therefor. 
Her  costume  for  different  occasions,  which 
had  been  procured  for  her  by  Great  Medi- 
cine, and  which  she  had  preserved  with 
great  care,  together  with  sundry  other  ar- 
ticles and  trinkets,  some  of  which  she  had 
purchased  in  Oregon  City  and  brought 
with  her,  she  now  proceeded  to  distribute 
one  by  one,  giving  something  to  each  as  a 
remembrance.  This  occupied  her  time 
and  attention  till  night,  when  a  conference 
of  the  nation  was  called,  to  which  none  of 
our  party  save  Evaline  was  admitted.  This 
conference  lasted  till  midnight,  and  long 
before  it  broke  up,  I,  as  well  as  most  of 
my  companions,  was  sound  asleep. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  our 
horses  were  caught  and  saddled,  our  two 
mules  packed,  and  every  thing  prepared 
for  our  immediate  departure.  Evaline  was 
silent  and  sad,  and  her  features  showed 
traces  of  having  passed  a  feverish,  restless 
night.  Thinking  she  might  feel  a  diffi- 
dence in  having  us  present  at  her  last  in- 
terview. I  approached  her  and  said: 

"  Evaline,  the  time  has  come  to  take  our 
final  leave." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  faltered. 

"  As  there  are  some  strangers  in  our 
party,  perhaps  it  were  better,  all  things 
considered,  that  we  should  go  on  before, 
and  await  your  coming  at  a  proper  dis- 
tance?" 

"  Thaq^  you!"  she  replied;  "the  very 
favor  I  would  have  asked,  had  I  dared." 

"  It  shall  be  so.  There  is  a  little  hill 
you  see  yonder,  somewhat  out  of  the  di- 


rect course  to  the  fort,  whither  we  will 
ride,  merely  for  the  view  it  affords  of  the 
prairie  beyond,  and  there  remain  till  you 
join  us." 

She  again  expressed  her  thanks,  and  I 
returned  to  the  others  and  informed  them 
of  the  new  arrangement.  We  then  pro- 
ceeded to  shake  hands  with  each  of  the 
tribe,  which  occupied  us  some  ten  minutes, 
and  mounting  our  horses,  rode  slowly 
away  down  the  mountain,  crossed  the  lit- 
tle streamlet,  and  galloped  over  a  short 
level  to  the  hill  in  question,  on  whose 
summit  we  came  to  a  halt  as  preconcert- 
ed. 

It  was  a  warm  day,  and  the  sun,  about 
an  hour  above  the  horizon,  streamed  down 
his  golden,  mellow  rays,  beautifying  each 
object,  by  giving  it  that  soft  and  dreamy 
appearance,  which,  in  the  poetic  mind, 
awakens  those  sweet  fancies  that  fill  the 
soul  with  holy  meditation  and  make  earth 
seem  a  paradise.  A  heavy  dew  had  fallen 
during  the  night,  and  its  crystalline  drops, 
still  hanging  on  leaf,  blade  and  flower, 
sparkled  in  the  morning  sunbeams  like  so 
many  diamonds.  Above  us  gay  plumaged 
birds  flittered  from  branch  to  branch,  and 
poured  forth  their  morning  carrols  in  a  va- 
riety of  strains,  or,  flapping  their  wings, 
darted  up  and  away  through  the  deep  blue 
ether.  Around  and  about  us,  bees,  beetles 
and  insects  of  divers  kinds  were  buzzing 
or  basking  in  the  sunlight,  now  dipping 
into  the  flower  to  sip  its  sweets,  now  alight- 
ing on  the  leaf  to  take  a  dainty  morsel, 
now  plunging  to  the  ground  with  no  ap- 
parent design,  and  then  each  and  all  up 
and  away,  filling  the  air  with  a  drowsy, 
pleasing  hum. 

Not  the  least  enchanting  of  all  was  the 
beai'tiful  landscape  that  here  lay  spread  to 
our  view.  Behind  us  was  the  little  valley 
we  had  just  crossed  over,  carpeted  with 
green  and  variegated  with  bright  flowers, 
through  which  wound  a  silvery  streamlet, 
and  beyond  which,  like  some  mighty  bar- 
rier, the  Black  Hills  lifted  their  heads  far 
heavenward.  To  the  right  and  left,  at 
some  little  distance,  was  a  wood,  over  the 
top  of  which  loomed  hills  one  above  an- 
other, but  gradually  retreating,  till  the  last 
one,  far,  far  in  the  distance,  either  showed 


104 


LENI-LEOTI: 


the  fleecy  like  palace  of  eternal  enow,  or 
gently  blended  with  the  cerulean  blue. 

But  before  us  was  the  scene  which  fixed 
our  whole  attention.  Here,  for  miles  upon 
miles,  stretched  away  avast  prairie,  whose 
tall,  rank  grass,  gently  touched  by  a  light 
breeze,  undulated  like  the  swelling  of  the 
sea  in  a  calm,ovfr  which  fluttered  and  ho- 
vered myriads  of  birds  and  insects,  now 
dipping  down,  skimming  along  the  surface 
and  disappearing  altogether,  or  soaring  up- 
ward, cleaving  the  balmy  air,  and  display- 
ing their  little  bodies  as  mere  specks  upon 
the  blue  background.  To  relieve  the  mo- 
notony otherwise  attendant,  here  and  there, 
at  long  intervals,  rose  little  knolls,  cluster- 
ed with  trees,  reaembling  islands  pushing 
up  from  the  glassy  surface  of  a  tranquil 
ocean.  And  away,  and  away,  and  away  to 
the  dim  distance  stretched  this  same  sea- 
like prairie,  till  the  eye,  unable  to  trace  it 
farther,  saw  nothing  but  the  soft  blending 
of  earth  and  sky. 

For  some  moments  we  all  remained  si- 
lent, gazing  upon  the  scene  with  feelings 
peculiar  to  each.  Lilian  was  the  first  to 
speak: 

"  O,  how  beautiful!"  she  exclaimed, rap- 
turously. "  How  beamiful  and  how  sub- 
lime is  this  great  ocean  of  earth!" 

"  Ay,  sublime  indeed!"  rejoined  Eva. — 
"  It  is  just  such  a  scene  as  ever  fills  me 
with  rapture — inspires  me  with  the  sacred 
feeling  of  poesy.  0,that  like  one  of  those 
gay  birds,  I  could  wing  my  way  above  it! 
Would  it  not  be  delightful,  Lilian?" 

"  Charming!"  answered  the  other. 

"  But  can  we  not  skim  its  surface  on  our 
fleet  steeds'!  Come!  for  a  ride!  a  ride! 
What  say  you,  gentlemen'}"  she  added,  ap- 
pealing to  us. 

"  So  pleasant  a  request,  from  so  fair  a 
petitioner,  must  needs  be  complied  with," 
returned  one  of  the  party,  gallantly,  bow- 
ing gracefully  to  Eva. 

The  speaker  was  a  young  man,  some 
twenty-five  years  of  age,  of  fine  person 
and  good  address,  with  a  handsome  and 
prepossessing  countenance,  whereon  was 
legibly  stamped  frankness,  generosity  and 
nobleness  of  soul.  There  was  an  elo- 
quence in  his  soft,  dark  eye,  and  a  loftiness 
of  purpose  on  hia  clear,  open  brow,  which 


would  have  ranked  him  far  above  the  herd, 
had  even  a  finished  education,  of  which  he 
was  possessed,  been  wanting.  To  be 
brief  in  my  remarks,  he  was  the  only  son 
of  one  of  the  merchants  who  had  emigra- 
ted from  the  State  of  New  York  to  Ore- 
gon City  during  the  previous  summer,  and 
one  of  the  party  who  had  so  far  been  our 
companions  of  the  long  journey.  He  was 
now  on  his  way  east,  to  arrange  some  un- 
settled afi'airs  and  purchase  more  goods  for 
his  father,  with  the  design  of  returning  to 
Oregon  the  following  season.  During  the 
past  winter,  Elmer  Fitzgerald  (so  he  was 
named)  had  once  or  twice  met  with  Eva 
Mortimer;  but  no  acquaintance  had  been 
formed  with  each  other  previous  to  both 
parties  setting  forth  on  the  present  jour- 
ney, where,  being  daily  and  hourly  thrown 
together,  sharing  alike  the  hardships  and 
perils  of  the  wilderness,  it  was  but  natural, 
that,  between  two  such  individuals  of  re- 
fined manners  and  cultivated  tastes,  there 
should  gradually  spring  up  an  intimacy, 
which  time  and  circumstances  might  ripen 
to  something  more.  But,  as  I  have  said 
before,  let  me  not  anticipate. 

As  Elmer  spoke,  I  noted  that  both  his 
own  and  the  countenance  of  Eva  slightly 
flushed,  and  quickly  turning  to  me,  the  lat- 
ter said: 

"  And  what  say  you,  Francis!" 

"  I  shall  echo  the  words  of  Mr.  Fitzger- 
ald." 

"  Then  we  will  go!"  said  Lilian,  joyful- 
ly. "  But  brother,"  she  added,  turning  to 
Charles,  "  you  appear  gloomy  and  deject- 
ed.    Do  you  object  to  this  arrangement!" 

"  Why,  to  speak  candidly,"  he  answer- 
ed seriously,  "  I  do." 

"  For  what  reason'!"  I  inquired. 

"  I  can  give  you  no  other  than  what  I 
told  you  last  night — a  presentiment  of 
danger." 

"Pshaw!  Charley,"  I  rejoined,  "there 
is  no  danger  here.  The  sadness  of  Eva- 
line  has  made  you  gloomy,  and  a  brisk 
ride  over  this  prairie  will  set  you  right 
again." 

"  And  it  will  be  beneficial  to  ^ear  sister 
Evaline  also,"  chimed  in  Eva,  "  by  divert- 
ing her  thoughts  from  her  present  cause  of: 
grief." 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


105 


"Suit  yourselves  in  ihe  matter,"  rejoin- 1  more  delightful  than  from  that  of  the  one 
ed  Huntly.     "  I  shall  of  course  do  as  the    we   had   left  hehind  us.     Then  we  were 


rest.  I  merely  spoke  my  apprehensions, 
which,  after  all,  may  only  be  foolish  fan- 
cies." 

"  Lo!  yonder  Evaline  comes!'*  cried  Li- 
lian; and  looking  toward  the  village,  a  part 
of  which  was  visible  from  where  we  stood, 
we  beheld  her  rapidly  descending  the 
mountain  on  her  little  pony. 

Charles  instantly  wheeled  his  horse  and 
rode  away  to  meet  her,  and  presently  re- 


locking  on  the  prairie  only  in  one  or  two 
directions — now  we  stood  above  and  sur- 
veyed it  on  all  sides.  To  the  north  of  ue 
was  a  small  ridge,  in  shape  resembling  an 
ox-bow,  the  southern  bend  of  which  was 
about  five  miles  distant.  This,  after  run 
ning  dve  north  for  a  considerable  distance, 
appeared  to  take  a  zig-zag  course  and  unite 
with  the  Black  Hills,  which,  sublime  in 
their  erandeur,  bounded  the  view  to  the 


turned  in  her  company.  She  was  sad,  and  |  west.  To  the  south  and  east,  as  far  as 
silent,  and  her  eyes  were  red  with  weep- 1  the  eye  could  penetrate,  stretched  away 
ing,  while  her  features  generally,  showed  |  and  away  the  beautiful  prairie,  with  noth- 
traces  of  having  recently  passed  through  I  ing  to  relieve  its  monotony  but  an  occa- 
a  very  trying  scene.  j  sional  knoll  like  the  one  whereon  we  stood, 

On  being  informed  of  our  present  de-   and  which  forcibly  reminded  me  of  the 
sign,  she  silently  acquiesced;  and  libera-   oases  I  had  seen  in  the  great  desert. 
ting  our  mules,  that  they  might  not  sufier        "  O,  this   is   delightful — enchanting!" 


in  our  absence,  we  rode  slowly  down  to  the 
prairie,  and  set  off  at  a  gallop,  most  of  us 
in  gay  spirits,  with  the  understanding  that, 
in  case  we  became  separated,  we  should 
all  meet  again  at  the  starting  point. 

Man  plans  and  God  performs.  That 
meeting,  for  some  of  the  party,  was  des- 
tined never  to  take  place. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


exclaimed  Eva,  with  a  flush  of  animation. 
"  This  is  what  I  love.  It  expands  the  soul, 
and  bears  one  above  the  grovelling  thoughts 
of  every  day  life.  Nature!"  she  added, 
apostrophizing,  "  1  love  thee  in  thy  gran- 
deur and  thy  simplicity!  and  know,  aa  I 
gaze  upon  thee,  that  I  behold  the  handi- 
work of  that  Great  Power  above,  which  re- 
gulates alike  the  mighty  systems  of  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  worlds,  and 
the  most  trifling  event  that  takes  place 
upon  them.  All  alike  move  by  a  univer- 
sal and  immutable  law;  and  each,  as  it 
A  MERRY  RIDE — ANOTHER  BEAUTIFUL  VIEW  were  Complete  in  itself,  is  but  a  minor 
— AN  EXCITING  RACE — SEPARATION — THE  |  branch  of  that  great  machine  v\  hich  works 
CONTEST  DECIDED — ALARM — THE  PRAIRIE  '  for  oue  almighty  and  incomprehensible  de- 
ON  FIRE  —  FLIGHT  —  TERRIBLE  coNfLA-  Sign.  Were  la  poet  that  could  pen  my 
GRATioN  —  APPALLING  STRUGGLE  —  HOR-  j  thoughts,  I  would  seek-such  a  place  as  thid, 
RiBLE  SCENE — LIFE  AND  DEATH.  and  alone,  awayfrom  the  discords  of  my 

fellow  beings,- write  such  inspiring  words,  . 
For  an  hour  or  two  we  spurred  on  to  the  |  that  ages  yet  to  come  should  read    and 


eastward,  in  company,through  the  tall  grass 
which  brushed  our  feet  at  every  step,  and 
made  our  horses -labor  exceedingly,  when 
we  came  to  one  of  the  small,  hills  or  knolls 
previously  mentioned,  where  we  halted  to 
give  eur  panting  and  foaming  steeds  a  few 
minntes' rest.  This  knoll  was  clustered 
with  beautiful  trees,  under  whose  refresh- 


wonder  over  my  pages,  and  call  them  the 
result  of  a  holy  inspiration." 

"  Ay,  sister,"  cried  Evaline,  "  thus  have 
I  felt  a  thousand  times;  and  thus  it  is  it 
comes  so  hard  for  me  to  part  from  these 
enrapturing  scenes.  Now  can  you  blame 
me  for  my  regrets?" 

"  No,  sweet  sister,"  answered  the  other, 


ing  shade  bubbled  up  a  spring  of  clear,  "  I  do  not  blame  you — far  from  it.     I  only 
cold  water,  wherewith  we  first  refreshed  '  feel  you  are  a  gem  too  rare  to  part  with." 


ourselves  and  then  our  horses.     From  the 
brow  of  this,  the  view  of  every  thing  was 

7. 


"  And  so  think  we  all,"  I  rejoined;  "  and 
one  of  us  at  least,  if  I  may  be  permitted 


106 


LENl-LEOTI: 


the  expression,  thinks  doubly  so;"  and  T 
glanced  at  my  friend. 

"  Ay,  Frank,"  he  answered,"  treble  thai 
if  you  like.  But  come,  my  friends,  the 
day  is  advancing — had  we  not  better  re- 
turn? They  will  look  anxiously  for  us  at 
the  fort." 

"  One  ride  more  first,"  said  Eva,  quick 
ly.  "I  cannot  bear  to  quit  this  scene  for- 
ever, without  one  more  glorious  ride." 

"  Whither  shall  ii  be,  then?"  asked  Li- 
lian. 

"  To  yonder  knoll;"  and  she  pointed 
away  to  the  eastward. 

"That  is  far,"  rejoined  Huntly,  "  and  I 
few  we  shall  not  get  back  till  night,  and 
the  day  will  be  lost." 

"  Lost?"  echoed  Eva,  her  eyes  sparkling 
with  animation.  *'  Call  you  such  a  day  as 
this  lost?  Come,  gentlemen,"  she  added, 
turning  to  the  rest  of  us,  "  you  do  not  think 
so,  I'll  wager!  On!  let  us  on!  I  dare 
you  to  a  race!  and  my  glove  to  him  who 
first  puts  foot  on  yonder  hill  in  advance  of 
me." 

So  saying,  slie  gracefully  waved  her 
hand,  and  tightening  her  rein,  pressed  her 
fiery  steed  down  the  declivity  and  over  the 
prairie  at  headlong  speed. 

^' A  race!  a  race!  The  glove!  the  glove!" 
cried  some  half  a  dozen  voices,  and  in- 
stantly the  v/hole  party  was  in  commo- 
tion. 

Those  who  chanced  to  be  dismounted, 
at  once  sprang  to  their  saddles,  and  all 
dashed  away  after  their  fair  champion, 
who,  sitting  erect,  with  the  air  of  a  queen, 
was  now  urging  her  gallant  beast  to  do  his 
utmost. 

Next  behind  Eva  rode  Elmer  Fitzgerald, 
striving  hard  to  overtake  her,  followed  by 
Lilian,  myself  and  the  rest  of  the  party. 
some  in  couples  and  others  alone,  each 
and  all  contending  to  be  first  at  the  far  off 
goal.  I  say  all,  but  I  must  except  Charles 
and  Evaline,  who  brought  up  the  rear  at  a 
tardy  pace,  and  seemed  rather  deliberately 
following  «8  without  excitement  and  inter- 
est, than  taking  any  part  in  the  race. 

With  the  balance  of  us,  for  the  first  five 
minutes,  the  contest  appeared  equal — 
neither  gaining  ground  on  the  party,  nor 
falUag  away  from  the  position  be  bad  ta- 


ken at  the  settin^-out.  All  was  life  and 
excitement;  and  merry  shouts  and  gay  jests 
rang  out,  as  on  we  pressed  our  panting 
-teeda  through  the  tall  grass,  startling 
thousands  of  small  animals  from  their  quiet 
retreats,  and  scaring  up  flocks  of  birds, 
which,  as  they  soared  away,  twittered  their 
discontent,  and  looked  down  upon  us  with 
wonder  and  fear.  On,  on  we  rushed, com- 
pletely lost  in  the  enlivening  chase,  and 
heeding  nought  but  the  still  distant  goal 
we  were  strivinof  to  gain.  On,  on!  still 
on!  with  the  fire  of  youthful  ambition  urg- 
ing us  to  renewed  exertions. 

At  length  the  difference  in  the  speed  of 
our  horses  began  to  be  seen.  Eva  yet 
kept  her  position  in  advance,  but  was  gra- 
dually losing  ground  before  the  fleeter 
steed  of  Elmer  Fitzgerald.  Lilian  and  I, 
side  by  side,  still  managed  to  hold  our  own, 
and  were  gaining  on  all  the  others,  who 
were  now  strung  out  in  a  long  single  line 
behind. 

Half  an  hour  pasi5ed,  and  the  change  in 
our  previous  positions  became  more  dis- 
tinctly marked.  Elmer  now  rode  head-to- 
head  with  our  fair  leader,  but  both  had  in- 
creased the  distance  betwen  themselves  and 
us  materially.  I  looked  back,  and  beheld 
the  line  stretched  out  for  more  than  a  mile, 
far  beyond  which  I  could  dimly  discern  my 
friend  and  Evaline  slowly  bringing  up  the 
rear.  Most  of  the  party  had  by  this  time 
despaired  of  winning  the  race,  had  even 
withdrawn  from  the  contest,  and  were  now 
following  at  a  leisure  pace.  A  few  yet 
held  on,  but  only  for  a  few  minutes,  when 
they  took  pattern  by  the  others,  and  we 
were  left  masters  of  the  field. 

For  another  quarter  of  an  hour  we  push- 
ed on  with  vigor,  when  the  panting  of  our 
foaming  steeds  warned  us  to  check  them. 
E  mer  and  Eva  were  the  first  to  take  this 
precaution,  and  on  our  coming  up  to  them, 
the  latter  said: 

"  I  suppose  as  we  have  distanced  all  the 
others,  there  will  not  be  much  strife  be- 
tween us.  At  all  events,  we  must  not  kill 
our  horses,  and  they  are  already  pretty 
well  blown.  How  much  was  I  deceived  in 
the  distance!  When  I  proposed  this  race, 
I  had  no  idea  there  were  more  than  five 
miles  between  point  and  point;  and  yet 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


107 


some  eight  or  ten  miles,  if  I  greatly  err 
not  in  judgment,  have  been  gone  over,  and 
yonder  hill  is  still  miles  ahead." 

"  Distance  on  level  ground,  from  an  ele- 
vated point,  is  always  deceiving,"  I  an- 
swered. "  But  come!  I  do  not  see  the  ne- 
cessity of  going  farther.  Give  your  com- 
panion the  glove,  for  I  acknowledge  him 
winner,  and  let  us  return." 

"  Pray,  take  Mr.  Leighton's  advice.  Miss 
Mortimer!"  urged  Fitzgerald;  "  for  it  is  a 
long  distance  to  where  we  left  our  mules, 
and  our  horses  will  suffer  enough  at  the 
best." 

"  Ay,  ay,  modest  sir!"  exclaimed  Eva, 
with  a  ringing  laugh.  "  I  understand.  You 
wish  to  be  acknowledged  victor,  before 
you  have  won.  By  my  faith,  sir,  I  had 
thought  you  possessed  of  more  spirit  than 
that.  I  am  willing  to  return,  for  that  mat- 
ter; but  I  cannot  yield  the  glove  until  the 
conditions  on  which  it  was  offered  are 
complied  with." 

"  Then  the  glove  shall  be  mine,  If  I  have 
to  make  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
alone!"  cried  Elmer.  "Do  not  flatter 
yourself.  Miss  Mortimer,  that  I  have  ex- 
erted myself  thus  far  for  nothing.  The 
prize  I  must  have;  1  insist  upon  it;  and  it 
remains  for  you  to  say " 

•'  Good  heavens!  what  is  that!"  exclaim- 
ed Lilian,  interrupting  the  other, and  point- 
ing toward  the  south. 

We  all  turned  our  eyes  in  the  direction 
indicated,  and  beheld,  stretching  along  the 
horizon,  what  appeared  to  be  a  dense, 
black,  rolling  cloud. 

"  A  heavy  thunder  storm  is  approach- 
ing," said  Fitzgerald  in  reply,  "  and  we 
stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  thoroughly 
drenched." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  rejoined  I; 
"  for  I  have  never  seen  a  cloud  of  such 
singular  appe^ance.  See!  how  it  gradu- 
ally creeps  away  to  the  right  and  left!" 

"And  there  are  bright  flashes,  too!"  ex- 
claimed Eva,  breathless  with  intense  ex- 
citement. 

"  What  is  it?  what  is  iti"  cried  Lilian 
grasping  my  arm  with  a  trembling  hand, 
and  gazing  upon  the  scene  with  a  pale,  ter- 
rified look.  "  It  is  not  a  cloud — it  cannot 
be  a  cloud^t  is  something  more  awful. — 


See!  see!  how  fast  it  spreads!  And  there! 
there!  mark  you  those  flashes'?" 

Suddenly  the  whole  hcrrible  truth  flash- 
ed upon  me,  and  for  the  moment  held  me 
dumb  with  terror. 

"  You  are  pale  with  alarm!"  pursued 
Lilian,  turning  to  rae  and  notipg  the  agon- 
ized expression  of  my  countenance. 

"  Speak,  Francis!  what  is  it]"  screamefi 
Eva. 

"  Merciful  God!"  I  gasped,  "  the  prairie 
is  on  fire!  We  are  lost! — our  doom  is  seal- 
ed!" 

"  Lost!"  shrieked  Lilian  and  Eva. 

"Oh,  God!  is  there  no  escape!"  added 
the  latter,  wildly.  "  We  must — we  must 
escape!" 

"  Flight — flight  alone  can  save  us!" 
shouted  Fitzgerald.  "  Perchance  we  may 
reach  yonder  hill.     It  is  our  only  hope." 

As  he  spoke,  he  spurred  his  steed,  struck 
Eva's  with  his  bridle  rein,  and  away  bound- 
ed both  with  all  the  speed  in  their  power. 

"  Follow!"  cried  I  to  LiUan.  imitating 
the  example  of  the  other,  and  in  the  wild 
excitement  of  the  moment  completely  los- 
ing all  my  wonted  presence  of  mind. — 
"  Follow  hard — strain  every  nerve — and 
God  vouchsafe  us  victory!" 

It  was  no  longer  a  race  of  pleasure,  but 
one  of  fearful  agony — our  lives  the  stake, 
and  heavy  odds  against  us.  Can  I  describe 
it,  readerl — describe  our  feelings  in  those 
awful  moments  of  horrible  suspense]  No! 
it  is  beyond  the  strength  of  the  pen — the 
power  of  language — and  must  be  left  to 
your  imagination. 

Four  miles,  at  the  least — four  long  and 
seemingly  interminable  miles — intervene 
between  us  and  our  destination.  Can  we 
reach  it?  We  have  but  little  hope.  On, 
on  we  urge,  with  whip  and  spur,  our  al- 
ready drooping  horses — and  on,  on  comes 
the  mighty  destroyer,  as  if  sent  to  execute 
the  long  pent  up  vengeance  of  an  oSend* 
ed  God. 

Away  to  the  east,  and  away  to  the  west, 
and  rushing  toward  the  north,  with  the 
fury  of  the  devastating  tornado,  comes  this 
terrific  Avenger,  sweeping  all  in  his  course* 
making  all  black  and  desolate  which  a  few  ' 
minutes  since  had  seemed  bo  lovely,  roll- 
ing up  to  the  very  dom©  of  Heaven  his 


108 


LENI-LEOTI: 


huge  volumes  of  smoke,  of  gigantic  and 
hideous  shapes,  with  red  sheets  of  flame  is- 
suing from  its  appalling  blackness,  as  they 
were  the  burning  tongues  and  eyes  ot 
hell's  unchained  demons,  so  shaped  by  our 
wild  and  distorted  imaginations.  On,  on! 
— how  our  horses  snort,  and  foam,  and 
tremble!  They  have  caught  our  fears,  and 
are  doing  their  utmost  to  save  us  and 
themselves.  On,  on,  on! — two  miles, 
thank  Gpd!  are  passed — but,  alas!  there 
are  two  more  before  us,  and  our  gallant 
beasts  are  already  beginning  to  falter  with 
fatigue.  On,  on! — behold  our  terrible 
foe  advance!  his  fiery  banners  stream- 
ing up  brighter,  redder  and  mure  brigiit  as 
he  nears  us — his  ten  thousand  scorching 
and  blasting  tongues,  hissing,  roaring  and 
destroying  every  living  thing  that  comes 
within  their  reach. 

Oh!  how  sublime — how  awfully  sublime 
this  spectacle!  on  which  we  rivet  our  fas- 
cinated eyes,  while  our  hearts  leap  to  our 
throats,  and  our  lips  are  compressed  with 
an  indescribable  fear. 

Now  listen  to  these  apparently  unearth- 
ly sounds!  The  prairie  is  alive  with  mil- 
lions of  voices,  which  fancy  would  give  to 
the  fiery  tongues  of  this  rushing  Mons- 
ter, as  the  cheering  song  of  his  death-deal 
ing  advance — but  which  stern  reality  tells 
U3  are  the  frantic  cries  of  droves  and  herds 
of  wild  animals,  of  all  species,  mad  with 
affright,  all  pressing  forward  together,  pell- 
mell,  to  escape  one  common,  but  ever  con- 
qaering  enemy. 

Look  yonder!  There  goes  a  stampede 
of  buffalo.  Yonder!  Another  of  wild 
horses.  How  they  tear  ahead,  with  foam- 
ing mouths,  expanded  nostrils,  dilated  eyes, 
and  a  tread  that  makes  the  very  earth  trem- 
ble beneath  them! 

Look  closer — nearer!  Here — here  they 
come! — above  us,  before  us,  behind  us,  be- 
neath us — on  all  and  every  side — birds, 
beasts,  reptiles  and  insects.  How  they 
dart  past  us  now  with  lolling  tongues,  and 
fiery  eyes  half  starting  from  their  sockets, 
entangling  the  very  legs  of  our  horses,  and 
causing  them  to  rear,  and  plunge,  and 
saort,  and  shriek  with  appalling  terror! 
Here  are  wolves,  and  wolverines,  and  ra- 
bita,  aad  boars,  and  serpents — each  and  all 


howling,    shrieking,    and    hissing    their 

fears. 

God  of  Heaven!  what  a  scene! 
On,  on,  for  our  only  hope!  Another 
mile  is  passed:  oh!  that  it  were  another — 
the  last!  We  near  the  haven  of  our  safe- 
ty. Can  we — shall  we  ever  reach  it!  Be- 
hold the  Destroyer,  where  he  comes!  Up, 
up  to  the  mid-heaven  now  rolls  the  smoke 
of  his  conquest!  and  the  sun  grows  dark 
behind  it,  as  he  were  mourning  for  the  de- 
struction he  is  forced  to  look  upon. 

Hark!  what  sound  is  that! — that  roaring 
sound!  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Fire-Spirit, 
as  he  were  mocking  our  hopes.  Must  we 
die  now,  with  safety  almost  within  our 
grasp!  Why  do  our  horses  stagger  and 
reel!  Have  they  not  strength  for  this  last 
effort!  See!  we  are  almost  saved.  Yon 
hill  looms  up  invitingly  before  us.  Oh! 
for  strength  of  another  five  minutes'  dura- 
tion! Five  minutes — only  five — an  eter- 
nity to  us! 

Ha!  the  dense  smoke  is  lowering  upon 
us,  and  we  shall  be  suffocated!  No!  that 
breeze  drives  it  back.  All  thanks  to  God 
for  that!     There  is  still  hope. 

On,  on!  still  on!  How  swift  is  the 
flame,  and  how  tardy  our  horses!  They 
have  no  spirit,  seemingly.  They  only 
creep  and  crawl  like  snails.  My  fortune 
all,  to  hold  out  another  two  minutes. 

Ha!  God  help  us  now!  Lilian's  steed 
reels — totters™stumbles — falls!  She  ia 
down.  I  hear  her  shriek  for  help.  How 
.strangely  that  shriek  mingles  with  the 
roaring  and  crackling  of  this  great  prairie 
fire!  Now  on  my  feet  I  seize  her  hand. 
Now  my  horse  staggers  under  a  double 
weight.  But  he  is  a  gallant  beast;  and 
plunging  forward,  with  a  dying  effort,  falls 
at  the  base  of  the  knoll,  which  Elmer  and 
Rva  have  gained  in  advance  of  us.  One 
desperate  effort  more,  and  Lilian,  all  un- 
conscious of  fear  or  danger,  is  borne  in  my 
arms  into  a  dense  thicket,  where  I  sink  up- 
on the  earth,  and,  half  stifled  with  smoke, 
amid  the  roaring  of  a  mighty  conflagra- 
tion, thank  God  its  flames  can  neither  reach 
me  nor  the  being  1  love. 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  PAR  WEST. 


ii09 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  MEETING ALARM  FOR   OUR    FRIENDS — 

A  SCENE  OF  PESOLATION — TERRIBLE  SUS- 
PENSE— REGRETS — PRISONERS  FOR  A  PAV 

A  NIGHT  OF  HORROR — A    GOLDEN  HORN 

OUR  STEPS  RETRACED — HIDEOUS  SPEC- 
TACLES— OUR  WORST  FEARS  SEEMINGLY 
CONFIRMED — JOT  AT  LAST. 


No  tongue  can  portray  my  feelings,  my 
deep  emotions  of  gratitude  to  the  All-wise 
Preserver,  as,  with  the  still  unconscious 
Lilian  reposing  in  my  arms,  I  remained 
motionless  a  minute,  enveloped  in  a  pall 
of  smoky  darkness,  listening  to  the  roar  of 
the  awful  flames,  that  surged  around  and 
onward,  scorching  the  green  leaves  and 
grass  within  a  few  feet,  but  leaving  me 
unharmed.  Once,  for  a  moment,  when 
the  smoke  settled  in  so  thick  that  day  be- 
came night,  and  the  air  too  much  heated 
for  respiration,  I  fancied  we  might  die  of 
suffocation.  Rut  it  was  only  for  a  mo- 
ment. A  draught  of  wind  revived  me,  and 
lifted  the  smoke,  which  rolled  away  in 
mighty  masses  after  its  master  spirit,  the 
devouring  element;  while  day-light  again 
streaming  in  through  the  interwoven 
branches  of  this  beautiful  retrecft,  made 
my  heart  bound  with  rapture  at  our  safe 
deliverance. 

Lilian  now  opened  her  eyes,  and  for  an 
instant  gazed  upon  me  with  a  bewildered 
expression.  I  strained  "her  to  my  heart, 
pressed  my  lips  to  hers,  and  whispered: 

"  We  are  saved,  dearest." 

"  Saved!"  she  echoed:  "Saved?  Then 
it  was  not  a  horrible  dream ,  but  a  frightful- 
ly hideous  reality,  at  the  thought  of  which 
the  soul  sickens  and  grows  fainf!" 

"  All  that  language  has  power  to  depict 
of  the  awful,  it  was,-and  ten  times  more." 

"Lilian!  Francis!"  now  called  the  voice 


them  indeed!"  for  in  the  frantic  bewilder- 
ment of  the  last  few  minutes,  all  thought 
of  every  thing  but  escape  from  death,  had 
been  driven  from  my  mind.  "Perchance 
they  have  perished!  Great  God!  what  a 
thought!  To  the  brow  of  the  hill  let  ue 
speed  at  once!" 

As  I  spoke,  we  all  rushed  up  the  aclivi- 
ty,  and  soon  gained  a  point  whence  we 
could  gaze  upon  the  desolated  scene.— 
What  a  fearful  change  a  few  minutes  had 
wrought!  Where,  a  short  time  since,  all 
was  life  and  beauty — the  tall  grass  softly 
undulating  to  the  light-winged  zephyr — 
we  now  beheld  only  a  black,  smoking,  dis- 
mal waste,  without  a  sign  of  living  thinp 
to  relieve  its  gloora.  The  fire  had  passed 
us  entirely;  but  away  to  the  east,  to  the 
north  and  the  west,  spread  a  dense  cloud 
of  rolling  smoke,  amid  which  we  could 
perceive  the  lurid  flashes  of  the  Death- 
dealing  Victor,  as  on,  on  he  sped,  seeking 
new  victims  to  feed  his  insatiable  maw. 
Here  and  there,  in  every  direction  on  his 
smoking  trail,  were  strewn  the  blackened 
carcasses  of  such  animals  as  had  been 
overtaken  in  their  flight.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill  whereon  we  stood,  in  the  exact 
spot  where  he  had  fallen,  lay  the  remains 
of  the  gallant  beast  which  had  borne  me 
through  so  many  perils,  and  which,  at  the 
very  last,  had  saved  my  life  at  the  expense 
of  his  own.  A  few  rods  farther  on  was 
the  one  Lilian  had  ridden,  now  an  ungain- 
ly mass  of  charred  flesh.  Altogether,  it 
was  an  appalling  scene  of  desolation,  thai 
made  the  heart  sick  to  look  upon. 

All  these  things  I  took  in  at  a  glance, 
but  without  dwelling  upon  them  for  a  mo- 
ment. One  wild,  maddening  thought  alone 
occupied  my  brain.  My  friend  and  Eva- 
line — were  they  lost  or  saved?  What  a 
torturinguncertainty,  where  nothingcould 
be  known!     I  strained  my  eyes,  and  vaiii- 


of  Eva;  and  springing  through  the  bushes,  I  ly  strove  to  penetrate  the  sable  veil  whicii 

curtained  the  view  to  the  west.  All  there 
was  wrapped  in  the  frightful  gloom  of  im- 
penetrable darkness.  Perchance  they 
might  be  living,  but  even  now  in  the  ago- 
nies of  a  most  terr1b*l'e death! — and!  groan- 
ed, and  shuddered,  and  felt  my  brain  grow 
dizzy  and  my  heart  sicken  at  the  bare  pos- 
sibility. 


accompanied  by  Elmer,  she  rushed  up  to 
the  former,  threw  her  arms  around  her 
neck,  and  each  wept  tears  of  joy  in  the 
other's  embrace. 

"But  Evaline   and    Charles — what  of 
them?"  cried  Eva,  looking  up,  pale  with 
alarm. 
"Gracious  God!"  shouted  I,  "what  of 


110 


LENI-LEOTI: 


For  somo  minutes  we  all  stood  and  star- 
ed as  if  rooted  to  tlic  spot,  pule  and  speech- 
less with  the  agony  of  suspense.  At 
length  the  smoke  began  to  clear  away  be- 
tween us  and  the  point  from  whence  we 
had  set  out  for  the  race.  Alas!  it  brought 
no  hope,  but  rather  despair.  All,  as  else- 
where, was  black  and  lifeless,  and  we  felt 
our  doubts  removed  by  the  worst  of  cer- 
tainties. 

"Oh,  fatal  day!"  cried  Eva,  wringing 
her  hands;  "  and  most  fatal  adventure! — 
Oh.  God!  my  sister  and  friend  lost!  and 
all  through  my  rashness.  Srong  headed 
and  giddy,  I  would  not  heed  his  foreboding 
counsels,  but  madly  rushed  away,  dragging 
him  to  his  own  death.  Blay  Cod  in  his 
mercy  forgive  me!  for  I  can  never  forgive 
myself.  Never — no,  never — shall  I  be 
happy  again." 

"  Nay,  dearest  Eva,"  said  Lilian  consol- 
ingly, twining  her  arms  around  the  other's 
neck:  "  Nay,  my  dear  sister — for  a  sister 
to  me  you  seem — do  not  reproach  yourself 
thus!  You  were  to  blame  in  this  no  more 
tlian  I,  or  the  rest.  You  knew  not,  dream- 
ed not,  there  was  danger — neither  did  any 
of  us — and  the  forebodings  of  Charles  were 
merely  vague  fancies  without  even  a  foun- 
dation. Had  he  warned  us  of  certain  dan- 
ger known  to  himself,  then  we  might  have 
been  considered  rash  in  disregarding  his 
counsel.     As  it  is,  I  feel  we  have  been 


that  made  light  of  the  presentiment  of 
Huntly,  and  scofTed  at  his  idea  of  danger. 
So  blame  not  yourself,  Eva!  Heaven 
knows,  the  blow  falls  heavy  enough  upon 
us  all,  without  the  additional  weight  of 
either  one  thinking  it  the  result  of  his  or 
her  individual  misdoing." 

"  Ay,"  rejoined  Elmer,  "so  think  I.  If 
one  is  to  blame,  all  are — but  in  my  opin- 
ion, none  are  at  fault;  and  certainly  not 
you.  Miss  Mortimer." 

But  I  will  not  follow  in  detail  our  gloomy 
conversation,  nor  longer  dwell  upon  our 
feelings.  Suffice,  that  for  something  like 
an  hour  we  stood  watching  the  lire,  as  on 
it  rushed,  away  and  away  to  the  dim  dis- 
tance, until  it  became  lost  to  our  vision, 
leaving  behind  it  the  most  dismal  scene  I 
had  ever  beheld. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  still  we  stood 
in  the  self-same  spot,  uncertain  what  course 
to  pursue.  We  had  eagerly  scanned  every 
object,  and  strained  our  eyes  in  every  di- 
rection, in  the  hope  of  being  rejoiced  by 
the  sight  of  one  living  thing.  But  the 
hope  proved  fallacious.  All  was  silent, 
and  black,  and  motionless,  on  this  great 
field  of  death  and  desolation. 

But  what  should  be  done,  was  now  the 
all  important  question.  The  earth  was 
still  smoking  with  heat,  and  the  sun,  in 
mid-heaven,  pouring  down  his  scorching 
rays,  with  scarcely  a  reviving  breath  of 
only  the  blind  instruments  in  the  hands  of  I  air;   so  that  we  could  not  venture  from 


the  Almighty,  for  working  out  one  of  His 
mysterious  designs.  But  do  not  let  us  de- 
spair. I  still  have  hope  that  Charles  and 
Evaline  are  safe.  They  were  far  behind 
us,  and  it  is  possible  may  have  turned 
back  and  gained  yonder  hill  in  safety." 

"God  send  it  be  so!"  ejaculated  I — 
"  though  I  have  my  fears.  But,  Eva,"  I 
added,  "  be  the  consequences  what  they 
may,  I  insist  you  do  not  blame  yourself. 
If  any  one  is  to  blame,  it  is  I." 

"  You,  Francis]  But  you  merely  say 
this  to  console  me." 

"  Nay,  I  will  prove  it.  But  for  my  plan, 
we  had  all  ere  this  been  far  on  our  way  to 
Fort  Laramie.  It  was  I  proposed  to  Eva- 
line  we  should  leave  her  alone  with  her 
friends,  and  designated  the  spot  whither 
wo  would  ride  and  await  her.     It  was  I 


our  shady  retreat  with  any  safety.  Be- 
sides, but  two  of  our  horses  had  been 
spared,  and  these  were  so  exhausted  as  to 
be  of  no  service  to  us  for  the  day  at  least. 

How  long  the  earth  would  remain  heat- 
ed, we  could  not  tell;  but  in  all  probabili- 
ty till  the  day  should  become  too  far  ad- 
vanced for  us  to  gain  another  safe  point 
ere  nightfall — in  which  event,  we  would 
again  be  in  imminent  danger  from  the  ra- 
venous beasts,  that  would  come  with  the 
darkness  to  prey  upon  the  half-burnt  car- 
casses of  their  fellows.  In  view  of  all 
this,  there  appeared  no  alternative  but  to 
remain  where  we  were  over  night,  and 
make  the  best  of  the  circumstances  we 
could  not  alter. 

This,  after  the  proposal,  discission  and 
final  rejection  of  several  plans,  was  at  last 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


Ill 


reluctantly  consented  to,  when  Elmer  and 
myself  immediately  set  about  constructing 
a  rude  lodge  for  Lilian  and  Eva,  who,  to 
their  praise  be  it  said,  bure  their  misfor- 
tunes with  a  firm,  patient  and  heroic  re- 
signation, that  would  have  won  our  admi- 
ration, even  had  we,  in  every  other  respect, 
been  wholly  indifferent  to  their  many  no- 
ble charms. 

Our  present  asylum  was  a  beautiful  and 
romantic  spot,  of  some  half  a  dozen  acres 
in  extent,  watered  by  a  fine  spring,  shaded 
with  trees,  and  carpeted  with  a  velvet-like 
sward  of  sweet,  green  grass,  interspersed 
with  white,  red,   purple,  yellow   and   gold 
colored   flowtrs.      In  short,  it  seemed   a 
Garden  of  Eden  on   an   arid  waste;  and! 
had  our  friends  been  with  us,  or  even  had  I 
we  been  assured  of  their  safety,  wc  could  ^ 
have  spent  the  night  here  with  pleasure.    I 

With  our  hunting-knives  we  cut  several  j 
withes,  and  bending  over  a  few  saplings,  i 
bound  them  together  so  as  to  form  a  regu- 1 
lar  arbor,  which   we  roofed   with   bushes,  j 
leaves  and  turf,  sufficiently  to  keep  off  the! 
dew  at  least.     With  our  rifles,  which  wej 
fortunately  had  with  us,  we  next  ransack- 
ed the  bushes,  and  were  successful  in  sca- 
ring up  and  shooting  some  two  or  three 
hares,  which  we  dressed  and  cooked,  and 
found  very    palatable — the  more  so,  per- 
haps, that  we  had  eaten  nothing   since 
morning — our  provisions  for  the  journey 
having  been  left  with  our  mules. 

During  the  day  we  saw  nothing  of  our 
companions,  and  as  night  slowly  shut  in 
the  scene,  we  gradually  began  to  lose  the 
faint  hope  that  had  thus  far  been  our  con- 
eolation.  True,  if  saved,  the  same  couse 
which  prevented  us,  might  also  them,  from 
venturing  forth  upon  what  seemed  almost 
certain  destruction.  But  there  was  no 
certainty — no,  scarcely  a  possibility — they 
had  escaped;  and  this  torturing  thought, 
added  to  our  lonely  situation  and  the  sur- 
rounding gloom,  made  us  wretched  with 
despair. 

Oh!  what  an  awful  night  was  this  we 
passed  in  the  wilderness!  One  which, 
were  we  to  live  a  thousand  years,  would 
ever  be  a  yesterday  to  us,  so  deeply  and 
painfully  was  it  engraven  upon  the  outer 
tablets  of  our  memories.     To  add  gloom, 


as  it  were,  to  accumulated  horrors,  a  dark, 
angry  cloud  began  to  spread  along  the 
western  horizon,  from  which  shot  vivid 
flashes  of  liirhtning,  followed  by  the  boom- 
ing roar  of  heavy  thunder,  as  if  the  spirits 
of  the  air,  bent  on  making  "  assurance 
doubly  sure,"  were  now  marshaling  their 
grand  reserve-forces  to  triumph  over  a 
vanquished  foe. 

On.  on  ctiire  the  Storm-King,  flinging 
out  his  bhick  Lamers  in  advance,  and  veil- 
ing the  light  of  Heaven's  starry  host,  as 
if  unwilling  one  single  thing  should  be 
left  undone  to  make  his  triumph  most  dis- 
mally, impressively  terrible.  On,  on  he 
came,  amid  the  almost  incessant  flashes 
and  thunders  of  his  mighty  artillery! 

Huddlpd  together  in  our  rude  arbor,  be- 
fore which  blazed  a  lurid,  flickering  flame, 
that  gave  our  pale  features  an  unearthly 
appearance,  and  made  our  grim  shadows 
dance  fantastically  behind  us,  like  dark 
spirits  in  a  hellish  revel,  wc  sat  and  gazed 
upon  vacancy,  silent  with  emotions  too 
deep  for  utterance. 

Now  the  storm  was  at  its  height.  Sheet 
upon  sheet  of  the  hot  lightning,  flashing 
in  our  faces,  blinded  our  eyes;  peal  upon 
peal  of  crashing  thunder,  shaking  the 
earth  beneath,  almost  deafened  us  with  its 
roar;  while  the  rain,  pouring  down  in  tor- 
rents, thoroughly  drenche,d  and  stiffened 
our  cramped  up  bodies  and  limbs. 

For  two  hours  thus  we  remained  in 
breathless  awe,  motionless  and  silent,  ere 
the  storm  abated  its  fury;  and  then  only, 
as  it  were,  that  wc  might  hear  the  bowl- 
ings of  surrounding  wolves,  which,  to  our 
distorted  fancies,  seemed  the  loud  wail- 
ings  of  the  damned  over  the  final  wreck 
of  Nature. 

Serenely  the  morning  broke  upon  the 
night,  and  the  sun  again  rose  as  bright 
and  golden  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Never  was  a  day  hailed  with  more  joy. — 
With  the  first  streak  of  light,  we  caught 
our  two  overridden  horses,  and  found,  to 
our  great  delight,  that  they  were  still  cap- 
able of  performing  a  heavy  task.  Mount- 
in?  two  en  each,  we  set  cut  over  the  black- 
ened plain  to  retrace  our  steps,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, gain  some  tidings  of  our  friends. 

For  an  hour  or  more  we  saw  nothing  to 


112 


LENI-LROTI: 


attract  particular  attention,  when  sudden- 
ly Eva  uttered  a  fearful  shriek,  and  poiiit- 
injj  to  an  object  before  us,  cried: 

"My  God!  look  on  that!" 

We  did  look,  with  dilated  eyes,  and  felt 
our  blood  freeze  with  horror.  It  was  tlie 
blackened  and  mangled  corse  of  a  human 
being — probably  the  remains  of  one  of  our 
companions  of  the  previous  day.  A  few 
feet  from  it  lay  the  half-eaten  carcass  of  a 
horse,  too  fatally  confirming  our  suspi- 
cions. 

Elmer  and  I  dismounted  and  examined 
the  body  of  the  unfortunate  young  man; 
but  all  trace  by  which  we  might  identify 
it  waa  lost;  and  with  a  sickening  shudder 
and  trembling  steps,  we  passed  on,  with 
euch  feelings  as  none  can  ever  more  than 
faintly  imagine. 

About  a  mile  from  this,  we  came  upon 
the  carcass  of  a  horse,  beside  which  lay 
the  stirrups  of  a  saddle,  several  scraps  of 
burnt  leather,  and,  oh  God!  another  hu- 
man body! 

"  Another  victim!"  groaned  Fitzgerald, 
covering  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  hideous 
spectacle.    "  Who  next!" 

"Great  God!"  gasped  T,  "should  the 
next  be  Charles  and  Evaline!  But  come, 
Fitzgerald!  tliis  is  a  trial  unfitted  for  la- 
dies. See!  both  Lilian  and  Eva  seem 
ready  to  fall  from  their  horses!  Let  us 
mount  and  away,  and  take  them  from  this 
awful  scene.  If  we  gain  no  tidings  of 
our  friends  when  we  reach  the  Wahsochees, 
we  will  at  least  get  some  of  them  to  as- 
sist us  in  the  painful  task  of  searching  for 
their  remains. 

Shaping  our  course  more  to  the  right, 
we  rode  away  over  the  plain,  fearful  to 
look  beneath  our  feet,  lest  our  eyes  might 
chance  upon  another  revolting  spectacle. 
In  the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours,  we  had 
passed  the  first  hill,  leaving  it  away  to  our 
left,  and  were  fast  nearing  the  second,  the 
point  from  whence  we  had  first  viewed  the 
beautiful  prairie,  in  all  the  enchantment 
of  its  loveliness  only  the  morning  pre- 
vious, and  v/hich  we  had  fixed  on  for  our 
rendezvous,  in  case,  we  became  separated, 
little  dreaming,  in  our  merry  thoughtlesF- 
ness.of  the  mighty  calamity  hanging  over 
ua,  and  that  grim  Death  was  even  then 


invisibly  stalking  in  our  midst  to  select 
his  victims.     Suddenly  Lilian  exclaimed: 

"  God  be  thanked!  they  live!"  and  over- 
come with  joyful  emotions,  she  could  only 
point  her  finger  and  faintly  add:  "  See! 
see!" 

"Ay,  thank  God!"  cried  I,  "they  are 
saved!"  and  I  pointed  to  Charles  and  Eva- 
line,  whom  we  now  descried  rushing  down 
the  hill  before  us,  followed  by  some  fifteen 
or  twenty  of  the  Mysterious  Tribe. 

Five  minutes  later,  we  stood  clasping 
each  other,  weeping  and  speechless  with 

joy. 


.  CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  ESCAPE — RETURN  TO  THE  FORT — JOY — 

THE     DEAD   ALIVE — HOMEWARD   BOUND 

THE  ROUTE — REFLECTIONS — DESTINATIOH 
GAINED — HAFPT  MEETING. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  dwell  upon 
this  rapturous  meeting,  one  of  the  most 
joyful  I  had  ever  experienced.  No  one 
can  conceive  our  feelings,  but  such  as  have 
been  placed  in  like  situations.  Each  par- 
ty had  looked  upon  the  other  as  dead,  and 
mourned  their  loss  accordingly;  and  it  waa 
with  tears  of  gratitude  for  our  deliverance 
from  an  awful  fate,  that  we  narrated  to 
each  other  the  manner  of  escape.  That 
of  Charles  and  Evaline  was  briefly  as  fol- 
lows. 

At  the  time  they  discovered  the  fire,  they 
were  some  four  miles  in  our  rear,  and  at 
least  two  behind  the  hindmost  of  the  par- 
ty. Made  aware  of  their  danger,  they 
sought  to  avert  it  by  flight;  and  as  the  hill 
behind  them  was  the  nearest  elevated 
point,  they  had  striven  to  gain  it  in  ad- 
vance of  the  flames.  In  this  they  had 
been  disappointed.  The  fire,  driven  by  a 
strong  breeze  of  its  own  creating,  rushed 
forward  with  such  frightful  velocity,  that 
when  within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  desirable 
point,  they  found,  to  their  dismay  and  hor- 
ror, all  hope  of  escape  in  that  quarter  cut 
oflf. 

"  Imagine  my  feelings,"  said  Huntly,  as 
he  told  me  the  tale,  "  when,  all  hope  of 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


lis 


escape  over,  I  threw  my  arm  around  the 
waist  of  Evaline,  and  pointing  to  the 
flames,  which,  driven  forward  by  a  strong 
breeze,  had  already  passed  the  hill  to  the 
westward  and  were  fast  sweeping  around 
to  enclose  it  with  a  fiery  wall — when,  I 
say,  viewing  all  this,  with  the  calmness  of 
utter  despair,  I  whispered: 

" '  At  least,  dear  Evaline,  we  will  die  to- 
gether.' 

" '  Rather  say  live  together,'  she  ex- 
claimed, '  if  you  have  any  means  of  strik- 
ing fire.' 

'•'  Only  a  pistol,'  I  replied. 

"'That  will  do,' she  answered.  'Quick! 
let  us  dismount,  tear  up  the  grass  around 
us,  and  fire  it.' 

"  In  an  instant,"  pursued  Huntly,  "  I 
comprehended  all;  and  springing  from  my 
horse,  with  hope  renewed,  labored  as 
a  man  may,  when  his  own  life  and  that  of 
another  more  valuable  are  depending  on 
his  exertions.  In  two  minutes  a  small 
Bpot  was  cleared,  and  placing  my  pistol 
within  a  bunch  of  torn  up  grass,  I  fired. 
The  flash  ignited  it,  and  a  bright  flame 
shooting  upward,  caught  on  all  sides,  and 
sped  away  on  its  work  of  death,  leaving 
a  blackened  circle,  within  which  we  step- 
ped and  remained  unharmed.  As  soon  as 
the  fire  had  passed,  we  remounted  and 
dashed  over  the  heated  earth  to  the  hill 
before  us,  where,  like  yourselves,  we  pass- 
ed a  terrible  night  of  agonized  suspense. 
Not  having  seen  any  signs  of  you  or  the 
rest  of  the  party  during  the  day,  we  final- 
ly came  to  the  melancholy  conclusion  that 
all  were  lost,  and  at  day-break  this  morn- 
ing set  off  for  the  Indian  village  with  the 
heart-rending  intelligence.  Some  twenty 
of  the  tribe  at  once  volunteered  to  go 
back  with  us;  and  on  this  sad  journey  we 
had  already  set  out,  when,  to  our  unspeak- 
able joy,  we  espied  you  galloping  over  the 
plain,  and  hastened  to  meet  you." 

"Slrange!"  said  I,  in  reply,  "that  I 


"  Not  one,"  he  answered,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Then  I  fear  all  have  perished!" 

"  What  are  we  to  do  under  the  circum- 
stances!" he  inquired. 

"  Why,  I  think  we  had  better  set  out 
for  Fort  Laramie  at  once;  for  our  friends 
there,  even  now,  are  doubtless  becoming 
exceedingly  uneasy  at  our  long  absence." 

"And  leave  the  bones  of  our  late  com- 
panions to  bleach  on  the  open  prairie, 
Frank!" 

"  No!  We  must  get  the  Indians  to 
hunt  up  their  bodies  and  give  them  decent 
bKrial." 

This  plan  was  finally  adopted;  and  in 
the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours,  we  had 
again  parted  with  the  Wahsochees,  and 
were  on  our  return  to  the  fort. 

The  journey  proved  a  tedious  one,  for 
all  were  sad  and  silent  with  gloomy 
thoughts.  Travelling  some  thirty  miles, 
we  encamped,  and  resuming  our  route  the 
next  morning,  reached  the  fort  in  the  af- 
ternoon of  the  same  day. 

As  we  rode  into  the  area,  the  inmates 
all  rushed  out  to  greet  ami  welcome  us, 
and  among  them  came  Mrs.  Huntly  and 
Madame  Mortimer,  almost  frantic  with 
joy.  At  first,  we  were  at  a  loss  to  com- 
prehend the  cause  of  this  strong  ebullition 
of  feeling;  but  did  not  long  remain  in  ig- 
norance; for  the  next  moment,  descrying 
two  of  our  late  companions  in  the  crowd, 
the  whole  truth  flashed  upon  us. 

"  Oh,  my  children!  my  children!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Huntly;  and  overcome  with 
her  feelii  gs,  she-could  only  first  clasp  one 
and  then  the  other  to  her  heart  in  silence. 

"  My  daughters!  and  do  I  indeed  see  you 
alive  again!"  cried  Madame  ]\Iortimer, 
pressing  Eva  and  Evaline  to  her  panting 
breast.  "  Oh!  could  you  but  know  a  mo- 
ther's agony  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
during  which  she  has  mourned  you  as  dead, 
you  would  never  leave  her  again." 

But  not  to  dwell  upon  this  affectionate 


should  have  overlooked  a  means  of  escape  I  meeting,  it  will  only  be  necessary  to  state, 


so  simple  as  firing  the  prairie!  It  would 
have  saved  us  a  world  of  trouble;  but  from 
the  first  I  lost  my  presence  of  mind,  and 
thought  of  nothing  but  escape  by  flight. 
Alas!  for  our  companions!  Have  you 
Been  any  of  them,  Charles?" 


that  two  of  the  party  vvhoui  we  supposed 
dead,  had  escaped,  by  flying  from  the  field 
and  taking  refuge  on  the  ridge  to  the  north. 
Here  they  had  paused  for  a  few  minutes, 
to  gaze  upon  the  sublime  scene  of  the 
burning  plain;  and  then,  believing  all  save 


114 


LENI-LEOTI: 


themselves  had  perished,  had  made  the 
beet  of  their  way  batJk  to  the  fort  and  to 
reported.  No  wonder,  then,  there  was 
surprise,  and  joy,  and  unusual  commotion, 
on  beholding  in  us  the  dead  alive,  the  lost 
ones  found. 

The  second  day  following  our  return, 
we  again  set  out  on  our  homeward  jour- 
ney, in  company  with  a  small  party  of  emi- 
grants who  iiad  recently  crossed  over  the 
mountains  from  California.  For  several 
days  my  friends  and  myself  were  unusual- 
ly thoughtful  and  serious;  but  as  we  near- 
ed  the  confines  of  civilization,  and  felt  we 
were  about  to  quit  the  wilderness,  with  all 
its  hardships  and  perils,  to  mingle  with 
scenes  more  suited  to  our  tastes,  our  spir- 
its gradually  grew  buoyant  with  the  seem- 
ingly unalloyed  happiness  of  youthful  days. 

Never  shall  I  forgat  the  singular  feel- 
ings we  experienced — I  speak  of  Huntly 
and  myself — as  we  rode  into  the  small 
town  of  Independence,  Missouri,  and  re- 
called the  many  striking  events  of  the 
long  period  which  had  intervened  since 
last  we  beheld  the  place.  Then,  giddy 
with  the  wildness  of  youth — alone — free 
from  restraint — with  no  tie  stronger  than 
the  filial,  binding  us  to  any  one  particular 
spot — we  were  just  setting  forth  upon  a 
new  world  of  adventure! — Now,  sobered 
by  painful  experience,  and  in  company 
with  those  we  loved,  we  were  retracing 
our  steps,  perfectly  satisfied  there  was  "  no 
place  like  home,"  and  no  scenes  so  dear 
to  U3  as  those  of  our  native  land.  We 
had  seen  danger  in  every  form,  suff'ered 
all  that  we  could  suffer  and  live,  had  had 
our  souls  tried  by  the  sternest  tests,  been 
miraculously  preserved  through  all,  bless- 
ed beyond  our  deserts,  and  now  felt  con- 
tented to  leuve  the  field  forever  to  such  as 
might  fancy  it,  and  retire  to  the  sweet  se- 
clusion of  domestic  life. 

The  countenance  of  Evaline,  as  day  by 
day  we  progressed  toward  the  east,  gradu- 
ally brightened  with  a  sweeter  happiness 
than  she  had  ever  known — the  happiness 
of  being  with  her  mother  and  j'ister — of 
knowing  she  was  not  a  nameless  being, 
cast  astray  by  some  untoward  freak  of  for- 
tune— of  feeling  she  loved  and  was  in 
turn  beloved.     She  was  now  catering  a 


world  where  every  thing,  opening  up  new 
and  strange,  filled  her  with  wonder,  exci- 
ted her  curiosity,  and  kept  her  in  a  con- 
tinual slate  of  pleased  excitement.  Eva 
was  happy  in  the  company  of  one  who 
could  appreciate  her  no')le  qualities,  and 
lend  her  those  affectionate  and  tender  sym- 
pathies which  the  ardent  soul  ever  craves, 
and  without  which  it  languishes,  and  droops, 
and  feels  there  is  a  mighty  void  within. — 
Lilian  was  happy,  and  my  vanity  some- 
limes  whispered  me  a  reason  therefor.  In 
sooth,  by  the  time  we  reached  St.  Louis, 
there  was  not  a  sad  heart  in  the  party — 
unless,  in  a  reflective  mood,  a  dark  shadow 
from  the  past  might  chance  to  sv;eep  across 
it  for  a  moment — only,  as  it  were,  to  make 
it  seem  more  bright  in  the  glorious  sun- 
shine of  the  present. 

With  what  emotions  of  wonder  and  joy 
did  Evaline  view  those  mighty  leviathians, 
that,  by  the  genius  and  mechanism  of  man, 
are  made  to  play  upon  the  mighty  rivers 
of  the  Great  West,  and  bear  him  on  his 
journey  as  he  passes  to  and  fro  to  all  por- 
tions of  the  habitable  globe!  And  then 
the  delight  we  all  felt,  as  we  glided  down 
the  turbid  waters  of  the  great  Mississippi, 
and  steered  up  the  beautiful  Ohio,  past 
villages,  and  towns,  and  cities,  where  the 
pleasing  hum  of  civilization,  in  every  breast 
save  one,  awoke  sweet  memories  of  form- 
er days,  and  made  our  hearts  bound  with 
pleasing  anticipations  of  what  was  yet  to 
come. 

On,  on  we  swept  up  the  Ohio,  past  the 
flourishing  cities  of  Louisville  and  Cincin- 
nati, (making  only  a  short  stay  at  each)  to 
that  of  Pittsburgh,  where  our  steamer  was 
exchanged  for  another,  that  for  the  stage, 
to  bear  us  over  the  romantic  Alleghanies, 
and  that  in  turn  for  the  rushinir  car,  to 
land  us  in  Baltimore,  again  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  lastly  in  that  great  emporium  of 
the  western  continent,  New  York.  And 
so  on,  on — ever  changing,  continually  pro- 
gressing— toward  the  golden  haven  of  our 
desires — which.  Heaven  be  praised!  we  at 
last  reached  in  safety. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  journey, 
my  feelings  beer  me  very  sad.  Iwasnear- 
ing  the  home  of  my  youth, — the  abode  of 
my  dearly  loved  parents — after  many  long 


OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WESTi 


115 


years  of  painful  and  eventful  separation. 
What  changes  might  not  have  occurred 
in  the  interval!  Changes,  peradventure, 
to  rend  my  heart  with  anguish.  My  par- 
ents— my  affectionate  mother — my  kind 
and  indulgent  father — how  I  trembled  to 
think  of  them!  What  if,  as  in  the  case 
of  my  friends,  one  or  both  had  been  call- 
ed from  the  scenes  of  earth,  and  were  now 
sleeping  their  last  sleep  in  the  mouldering 
church-yard — never  to  bless  me  more  with 
the  soft  light  of  their  benign  eyes!  Oh! 
what  a  heart  sickening  feeling,  of  almost 
utter  desolation,  the  very  thought  of  it 
produced!  until  I  forced  myself  to  think 
no  more,  lest  I  should  lack  physical 
strength  to  bear  me  on  to  the  knowledge 
I  longed  yet  dreaded  to  gain. 

Pressing  invitations  from  us,  and  I 
scarcely  need  add  a  more  eloquent  persua- 
sion from  the  soft,  dark  eyes  of  another, 
had  induced  Elmer  Fitzgerald  to  extend 
his  journey  a  few  hundred  miles  beyond 
his  original  intention.  Arrived  in  the  city, 
we  all  took  rooms  at  a  hotel,  until  such 
time  as  we  could  notify  our  friends  of  our 
presence — or  rather,  until  I  could  see  my 
parents,  if  living,  in  advance  of  the  others. 

With  a  heart  palpitating  with  hope  and 
fear,  I  hurried  into  a  carriage,  and  order- 
ing the  driver  not  to  spare  his  horses,  lean- 
ed back  on  my  seat,  and  gave  myself  up 
to  the  most  intense  and  painful  medita- 
tions— occasionally  listening  to  the  rum- 
bling of  the  swift  whirling  wheels,  and 
wondering  when  they  would  cease  their 
motion  at  their  present  destination — or 
gazing  from  the  window  at  the  thousand 
objects  flitting  past  me,  with  that  vague 
look  of  the  occupied  mind,  which  takes  in 
each  thing  distinctly,  and  yet  seems  to  see 
nothing  whatever. 

"  Crack  went  the  whip,  round  went  the 
wheels,"  and  on  we  sped  at  the  same  rapid 
pace.  At  length  my  attention  was  arrest- 
ed by  objects  familiar  from  my  boyhood, 
and  my  heart  seemed  to  creep  to  my  throat, 
for  I  knew  I  was  close  upon  the  mansion 
of  my  father.  A  few  moments  of  breath- 
less suspense,  and  the  carriage  stopped 
suddenly,  the  door  swung  open,  and,  leap- 
ing out,  I  rushed  up  the  steps  and  into  the 
dwelling  of  my  parents, 


Two  minutes  later,  unannounced,  I  stood 
in  the  presence  of  both,  but  saw  I  was 
not  recognized. 

"Mother!  father!"  I  cried,  "have  you 
forgotten  your  long  absent  son?" 

There  was  a  brief  moment  of  Bpeech- 
less,  joyful  amazement,  and  the  next  I  was 
in  my  mother's  arms,  while  my  father 
stood  by,  pressing  my  hand  and  weeping 
as  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A   GORGEOUS  SCENE — THE  MYSTERY   SOLVED 

FORTUNE      PROPITIOUS — HAPPINESS  — 

THE   FINALE. 

Reader!  I  am  about  to  close — about  to 
present  to  you  the  last  scene  of  scenes  I 
shall  ever  give  of  this  my  drama  of  life. 
I  am  about  to  bid  you  farewell,  perchance 
forever.  May  I  not  trust  we  part  as 
friends? — as  boon  companions,  who  have 
together  made  a  long  pilgrimage,  with  an 
ever  cordial  attachment  and  friendly  un- 
derstanding] From  the  land  of  my  na- 
tivity, you  have  followed  me  through  a  pe- 
riod of  years,  over  the  wilderness  of  the 
far.  Far  West,  back  again  to  my  native 
land.  You  have  seen  me  in  prosperity 
and  adversity — in  sickness  and  health — in 
moments  of  ease  and  safety — in  moments 
of  hardship  and  peril — in  the  calmness 
of  quiet  meditation,  and  amid  the  turmoil, 
and  strife,  and  din  of  battle.  From  first 
to  last,  I  have  been  ever  present  to  you — 
made  you  my  confident — laid  bare  to  your 
gaze  the  secret  workings  of  my  ardent 
spirit.  May  I  not  trust  I  have  had  your 
sympathy!  that  you  have  felt  an  interest 
in  my  fate,  and  also  in  the  fate  of  those 
with  whom  my  fortune  has  been  so  close- 
ly connected?  Yes!  I  will  trust  we  part 
as  friends — that  when  you  have  perused 
the  last  page  of  this,  my  humble  scroll, 
you  will  not  cast  it  aside  as  altogether 
worthless — that  you  will  long  after  spare 
me  and  my  friends  a  single  thought  of 
pleasing  remembrance.  I  cannot  see  you 
— cannot  hear  your  answer — and  yet  some- 
thing whispers  me  it  is  as  I  desire — that 


116 


LENI-LEOTI: 


we  shall  not  eeparate  but  with  mutual  re- 
grets. Bo  this  as  it  may,  the  farewell 
must  be  said — the  solemn  farewell — 

"  That  word  which  must  be  and  hath  been— 
That  sound  which  make?  us  linger." 


It  was  a  brilliant  scene.  In  a  large  sa- 
loon, made  gorgeous  with  all  the  luxuries 
wealth  could  procure  from  all  parts  of  the 
habitable  globe — with  soft  carpets  from 
Turkey,  antique  vases  from  China,  old 
paintings  from  Germany,  and  statues  from 
Florence — with  long  hanging  mirrors,  that 
doubled  the  splendors  of  the  scene — with 
chairs,  and  sofas,  and  ottomans,  cushion- 
ed with  the  softest  and  most  costly  of  vel- 
vets— with  every  thing,  in  short,  to  please, 
dazzle,  and  fascinate  the  eye — over  which 
streamed  a  soft,  bewitching,  alabaster 
light — where  strains  of  melodious  music 
stole  sweetly  upon  the  enraptured  sense 
of  the  hearer; — in  such  a  gorgeous  apart- 
ment as  this,  I  say,  were  collected  bright 
faces,  sparkling  eyes,  snowy  arms,  and 
lovely  forms— set  off  with  vestures  of 
broadcloths,  and  silks,  and  satins,  and  or- 
namented with  chains  of  gold,  and  jewels 
of  diamond,  and  ruby,  and  pearl,  and  sap- 
phire. Ay!  in  such  a  place  as  this— in 
the  mansion  of  my  father — were  assem- 
bled the  elite  of  Boston,  to  witness  the 
nuptials  of  Evaline  and  Charles,  Eva  and 
Elmer,  Lilian  and  myself. 

Need  I  dwell  upon  the  sceneT  Need  I 
8ay  it  was  as  happy  as  gorgeous^  Need 
I  add,  that  the  fair  maidens,  led  to  the  al- 
tar, looked  more  sweet  and  lovely  than 
any  had  ever  before  seen  them?  No!  it 
is  unnecessary  for  me  to  enter  into  detail 
here,  for  the  quick  perception  of  the  rea- 
der will  divine  all  I  would  say.  Enough, 
that  the  rough  scenes  of  the  wilderness, 
through  which  we  had  passed,  could  not 
be  more  strongly  contrasted  than  on  this 
never-to-be-forgotten  occasion  of  unalloy- 
ed happiness. 

The  solemn  nuptial  rite  was  followed 
with  congratulations — with  music,  and 
dancing,  and  festivities — and  it  was  long 
past  the  noon  of  night,  ere  the  well  plea- 
sed gues.ts  departed,  and  a  small  circle  of 
happy  friends  were  left  to  themselves. 


When  all  had  at  last  become  quiet,  and 
none  were  present  but  the  newly  married 
and  their  ntarest  and  dearest  relatives: 

"  Now,"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  with  a 
bland  smile,  "  to  add  pleasure  to  pleasure 
— to  make  the  happy  happier — I  have  a 
joyful  surprise  for  you  all." 

"  Permit  me  to  doubt,"  said  I,  "  if  aught 
any  one  can  say,  can  in  any  degree  add  to 
the  happiness  of  those  here  present.  I 
look  upon  the  thing  as  impossible.  How- 
ever, I  may  be  too  confident;  but,  at  least, 
I  speak  for  myself." 

"  And  yet,"  pursued  the  other,  smiling 
archly,  "  would  it  not  add  pleasure  even  to 
you,  Francis,  were  I  to  tell  you  a  dark 
mystery  has  been  cleared  up,  and  a  wrong 
matter  set  right]" 

"  What  mean  you7"  asked  I,  while  the 
rest  turned  to  her  with  eager  curiosity. 

"  What  would  you  think,  should  J  now 
proceed  to  prove  to  you,  my  friends,  that 
the  person  you  have  long  known  as  Mad- 
ame Mortimer,  is  from  this  time  forth  to 
be  known  as  Marchioness  of  Lombardyl" 
"  Howl  what]  speak!"  exclaimed  one 
and  all  in  a  breath. 

"Ay,  such  is  the  fact.  Since  my  re- 
turn, I  have  received  letters  from  England 
and  France,  stating  that  my  late  husband 
— for  he  is  now  dead — was  none  other 
than  the  Marquis  of  Lombardy,  who  was 
banished  from  France  for  some  state  in- 
trigue, and  afterwards  restored  to  favor. 
Fearing,  before  his  death,  that  some  future 
revolution  might  again  endanger  his  prop- 
erty, he  managed  to  dispose  of  sufficient 
to  purchase  a  large  estate  in  England, 
which  he  has  generously  bequeathed  to 
me  and  my  heirs  forever.  Accompanying 
his  will,  which  I  have  now  in  my  posses- 
sion, is  a  long  letter,  in  which  he  asks  for- 
giveness for  the  wrong  he  had  formerly 
done  me  in  separation,  and  wherein  he 
states  as  a  reason  for  never  mentioning 
his  title,  that  at  some  future  time  he  had 
designed  taking  me  by  surprise;  but  that 
the  news  of  the  restoration  of  himself 
and  fortune,  coming  at  a  moment  when 
his  worst  passions  were  excited,  he  had 
left  me  in  an  abrupt  manner,  taking  Eva- 
line  with  him,  whom,  he  sorrowfully  adds, 
waa  afterwards  lost  or  murdered;  that  of 


>>,.' 


OR.  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST. 


117 


thia  foul  deed  he  had  always  suspected  a 
near  relation  of  his — a  villain  who  brought 
him  the  intelligence  of  his  fortune  being 
restored — and  that  in  consequence  he  had 
taken  what  precautions  he  could,  to  put 
his  property,  in  case  of  his  sudden  decease, 
entirely  beyond  the  other's  reach.  This, 
my  friends,  is  all  I  will  tell  you  to  night; 
but  to-morrow  you  shall  have  proofp  of  all 
I  have  said.  And  now,  my  daughters, 
that  you  are  happily  wedded,  I  give  you 
this  estate  as  a  marriage  portion." 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  emotions  of 
joyful  surprise  which  this  revelation  exci- 
ted in  the  hearts  of  those  who  heard  it. 
Suffice,  that  it  did  add  pleasure  to  plea- 
&uie,  aad  made  the  happy  happier. 


A  sentence  more,  and  I  have  done. 
The  words  of  the  Marchioness  of  Lombar- 
dy  were  subsequently  verified  in  every 
particular,  and  Charles  Huntly,  and  Elmer 
Fitzgerald,  have  had  no  cause,  thus  far, 
even  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  to  re- 
gret the  choice  they  made  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  Far  West.  Propitious  fortune 
now  smiles  upon  all,  and  all  are  happy. 

Thus  is  it  ever.  To-day  we  rise — to- 
morrow fall — to  rise  again  perchance  the 
next.  Prosperity  and  adversity  are  ever  so 
closely  linked,  that  the  most  trivial  event 
may  make  or  mar  our  happiness.  The 
Past  we  know — the  Present  we  see — but 
who  shall  say  aught  of  the  Future. 

So  ends  the  scene. 


THE  END. 


^  - 


rf. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA-BERKELEY 


14    DAY    USE 
RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY — TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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